Sewing Away

While the pot simmered and the steam hung above it like a gray spirit, she took out a needle and thread and mended a hole in her old mitten. Julie of the Wolves

To give myself something to do while I was thinking through my situation, I brought out my cloak along with needle and thread. The Name of the Wind

Every day our floor was carpeted with colorful rolls of fabric, yarn, sewing patterns, and issues of Burda, a fashion magazine. Tasting the Sky

“My husband works as a women’s clothier, and we employ several local women to make garments to order. We are looking for a girl who is good with a needle.” Orphan Train

I had sat mesmerized in the almost holy silence in which she worked, as she wove the needle in and out of stitches, forming pictures with thread. When I Was Puerto Rican

She studied his old coat with the padding hanging out of the torn sleeve seam. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn

"I remember you sewing my buttons, Mom," Uncle Lou says, making her smile again. You Bring the Distant Near

“They should have given you your mother’s name,” she said, taking the pouch of needles, thread, and thimbles from me. Krik? Krak!

She was bending over her old treadle Singer sewing machine, threading a bobbin. A Long Way from Chicago

“I can’t. I’m also in dance ministry, and we have a performance. We’ve been practicing for weeks. Ma already hemmed my costume and everything.” Monday's Not Coming

She wore a long black skirt that spread like a stiff tent to the floor, and a starched white shirt edged with ruffles at the throat and cuffs. Interpreter of Maladies

Sometimes she would pick fabrics of bright colors and patterns and take them to the tailor to have traditional cotton dresses made for me. How Dare the Sun Rise

She was a seamstress on Second Avenue and made Klondike coats at piece rate. Snow Falling on Cedars: A Novel

Sonia wears a sari, too, fuchsia with silver embroidery, a red rose stuck into her hair. The Namesake

The Olinka men make beautiful quilts which are full of animals and birds and people. The Color Purple

They wore uniforms, but they fit no better than our clothes—no high boots, no silver eagles. Milkweed

I learned stitches sitting in our apartment on Elizabeth Street, helping Mam when she took in extra work darning and mending and the occasional full dress from a bolt of cloth. Orphan Train

Mr. Fenchel sat all day on his table and he didn’t have anything to do, so he basted and ripped and sewed and ripped on the same piece of cloth over and over. East of Eden

His mother worked at what was called piecework—doing applique at home. Outliers

A sofa and a chair covered in a faded floral pattern sagged where people had sat. In the Year of the Boar and Jackie Robinson