Originally from gaytropolis
Not many things smell as manly as leather polish.
Originally from Pxlbyte
My cousin Helen, who is in her 90s now, was in the Warsaw ghetto during World War II. She and a bunch of the girls in the ghetto had to do sewing each day. And if you were found with a book, it was an automatic death penalty. She had gotten hold of a copy of ‘Gone With the Wind’, and she would take three or four hours out of her sleeping time each night to read. And then, during the hour or so when they were sewing the next day, she would tell them all the story. These girls were risking certain death for a story. And when she told me that story herself, it actually made what I do feel more important. Because giving people stories is not a luxury. It’s actually one of the things that you live and die for.
Neil Gaiman (via jaynestown)
Originally from helter skelter
I’m so proud of my sewing machine being able to handle leather. I’m so proud of it because if it had not, I would have spent endless weeks punching holes in the leather and hand sewing it. Jesus fuck that would be terrible.
It took me half of today to make Garrett’s hood, but fucking hell it is epic. And leather. Fucking leather. I’m learning quite a bit about leather. Like to press the seams open you pound it with a hammer. So there is a lot of banging in my apartment today (haha pun intended). And that needles designed for leather HATE heavy thread.