Leisure Suit Switcharoo

In the late 60s I started sewing, using my mother’s old, but electric, Singer sewing machine. I would go to the cloth store and buy a pattern and then the cloth and whatever else I needed to make a particular outfit. I began by making play clothes for my two young girls, Toni and Sandi; you know, shorts and pants. But after I purchased a book on sewing, I began to venture out into more complicated patterns like dresses for us girls.

Not wanting to leave out my husband, Bill, I bought a pattern for a casual shirt, some great linen blend material, and darn if it didn’t turn out really well. He wore it with pride to many weekend parties we attended in those days. After I had made myself a couple of pair of dress slacks learned how to put in a decent zipper, I figured what the heck, I’d make Bill a leisure suit as a surprise.

Now remember the time folks. We’re talking pastels, flared bell bottom pants and contrasting stitching. That’s right; the material I bought him was Robin’s egg blue because I knew it would complement his gorgeous hazel eyes. And I bought a much darker blue for the contrasting stitching that would sort of… well… outline everything. It’s called top stitching.

If my memory serves me correctly, it took me about a month to make this leisure suit because I could only work on it secretly when Bill wasn‘t around. But it was going well and I was getting more and more excited as it all came together. The girls were excited too because I had sworn them to secrecy; sometimes if we were all having dinner together, they’d look at their dad and burst into giggles. All so that when he asked them what they were laughing about, they could say in unison. “Nothing!”

When I finished the suit, I put it away until the following Saturday when I knew we would be going to have dinner with some friends at their house. But as the girls and I were so eager, I presented it to him that Saturday after lunch. I wish you could have seen him: his eyes lit up and his smile couldn’t get any wider. This is what was said:

Bill: (Holding the jacket up and looking it over)“You made this?”

Me: (Beaming) “Yep, all by myself.”

Bill: (Now holding up the pants) “I just can’t believe what a fantastic job you did babe.”

Me: (Still smiling and feeling rather proud of myself).

Bill: (Putting the jacket on) “I’m going to be the envy of everyone at our next party!”

Me: (Looking closely at the jacket; smile fading as realization dawns). “Oh my God!”

Bill: (A confused look on his face) “What? What’s the matter, it fits great.”

Me: “Yeah, it fits great… but I switched the sleeves.”

Bill: (Holding his arms out). “I don’t see anything wrong, they’re the perfect length.”

Me: (Sadly peeved) “Yes but look at the cuffs, see how the left one buttons over and not under? I switched the sleeves!…take it off, I’ll have to rip them out and redo them.”

Bill: (Pulling the jacket front together around him with both hands) “Nope, I love it just the way you did it.”

And you know what friends? He wore that darn Robin’s egg blue leisure suit to our friends’ house that evening and to every party we went to for the next several week. “Look what my wife made me!” He’d say, as he strutted, proud as a peacock.

As for the discovery of the switched sleeves by others, I only remember one guy saying anything about them and Bill told him flat out: “Doesn’t make any difference to me… she made this with her own two hands, just for me and it fits perfectly.”

My best friend, Betty, was an incredible seamstress and when I told her what I had done, she laughed so hard she almost peed her pants. But she admired Bill’s attitude and told him so. Me? I never switched sleeves again on anything I made… ever.

Jane