I’m ready to talk about it.
It happened a week and a half ago over the course of 2 days and probably took 2 years off my life. But I’m ready to talk about it.
Truthfully, it all started about 3 months ago when I purchased a bag of silver snap buttons from Lonsdale Leather, with whom I’ve done successful business before, to put on the Seymour coat:
I knew I wanted silver snaps and I knew that Lonsdale had the best ones. Way better than the garbage ones at Dressew, the usual go-to for buttons, zippers, fabric, etc. So I bought them long before I needed to put them on the coat, one of the final steps in its construction, so that when the time came to put it all together, I would have everything I need.
So. It’s Wednesday evening. The final line-up is on Friday. This means that all my garments have to be basically done, aside from hems and last-minute details, for Friday morning, 8:30am. This means that the snaps have to be on and the coat finished.
Everything is pressed, topstitched, fabulous. Time for snaps.
I open the little bag of snaps to organize the 4 separate pieces needed to make each single snap into groups before assembling.
But what’s this? Something is missing! There are only three of the four pieces required to make a whole snap. I’m missing a crucial piece of each button, rendering them useless. Curses.
But, it is only Wednesday. I have Thursday afternoon to go back to Lonsdale, who have always been so helpful, to correct their error and get the missing pieces. I won’t sleep well tonight.
Thursday. 12:30pm. On a bus with my incomplete bag of snaps. Down Pender, up Main to 5th. Ding, off the bus, into a downpour. Lonsdale is only a block or so away. Through drops falling off the front of my hood, I scan for the entrance, a glass door and small staircase up to the store room.
It should be right here.
I’ve been here many times, it should be right here.
It should be right here.
There is a door but it is locked.
There is a staircase but it is dark and empty.
There is a sign in the window above, “For Lease.”
It should be right here.
It has moved. It is not here. My incomplete bag of snaps might as well be empty. It might as well be full of snakes. My coat hangs on a hanger some thirty blocks away, incomplete.
I panic.
Thankfully, across the street is Johnsons Wholesale, a cave of a warehouse that sells buttons, zippers, pins, needles, snaps. I hope.
I run across the street, dripping with rain and dread, into the entrance. Ding, the doorbell chimes when I open the door.
There is no one around. Of course. I scan the aisles until I see either a person or snaps. I see a person.
“Snaps! Do you have snaps? I need silver snaps for an overcoat, anorak style,” I manage to ask. The politeness I meant was implied.
“Aisle ten,” he says. His politeness was also, I’m assuming, implied.
Aisle ten. Lots of snaps. In lots of old boxes. I don’t know which ones to get because they all look like the garbage ones at Dressew. I panic and grab two boxes each of two kinds of snaps. I need twelve. I have fifty snaps in my hand when I get to the till. I put it under the account my teacher has for her business and pay the $11.00 or so in cash. Take a deep breath.
Back on the bus, down Main, up Pender. Ding, off at the school, into the downpour.
Ding, up the elevator, 9th floor, the coat is hanging, waiting.
I need to test the snaps to see if they are garbage. I cut out, fuse, and double layer the three fabrics I will need the snaps for to test exactly how they will work.
Hallelujah, they aren’t garbage.
Is it lunch time? Probably. Can’t stop though, I am on a panic-driven roll.
1:35pm, measuring tape out, purple water-soluble pen out, coat laying flat, prepped for surgery. Each button placement is measured and marked with a purple dot. Pins through each dot line up on the opposite side so the buttons will match, ready to snap.
With hesitation and determination, a hole is punched into the fabric of the coat. There is no going back. Bang bang bang bang, one side in; bang bang bang bang, other side in. They snap together. I take a deep breath and plunge onward, eleven more times. Bang bang, snap snap, repeat.
3:30, maybe 4:00pm, I put the coat on and snap the snaps together in front of the mirror.
Egad, there is a problem. I should have stopped for lunch.
The lines do not line up. The right side is overlapping when it should be underlapping. The snaps are on the wrong side of the coat front and thus do not line up. My carefully measured horizon line across the front of the coat is uneven by a noticeable centimetre and a half. I have done it backwards.
I throw myself out the 9th storey window.
No I don’t, but I want to.
I don’t know what to do. There are holes in the fabric. There are holes through the coat. They are permanent. To fix it is to remake two thirds of the coat. By Friday morning, 8:30am. It is not an option.
I throw myself out the 9th storey window.
No I don’t, but I want to.
I take a deep breath and scarf down a wunderbar, snack of the gods. Rummaging around in my toolbox, I find a multi-tool with a screwdriver attachment. I pry each snap off each side of the coat by, at times, tearing the metal away from itself. I didn’t know this was even possible. I have superhuman strength. There are twelve holes in the coat. It is bleeding threads and metal bits from each hole.
I throw myself out the 9th storey window.
No I don’t, but I want to.
Thankfully, I bought one thousand snaps in case they turned out to be garbage so I have enough to re-do each one. My only option is to use the same holes as before and hope it will line up better when the correct side is on the top. It’s 5:30pm or so.
So bang bang, snap snap, I put the buttons in again, the right way this time, along the front of the coat, twelve times.
It does not line up perfectly but there is nothing I can do. It is 7:00pm or so, not that it matters. The holes are filled. The right side overlaps the right way. I didn’t throw myself out the window even though I wanted to.
All I see is that giant mistake so I put the coat away without looking at it and go home. It is done and there is nothing I can do. The snaps snap and the coat is a coat and it is done. I don’t sleep well.
At the line-up on Friday morning, I am asked about the front of the coat that does not line up exactly. I give the panel the Readers Digest version of what happened and tell them how lucky I am to be alive today. They say nothing. I am fine with it.
All in all, it goes well and I move on with my life. In the photoshoot, the model moves in such a way that the giant mistake is hardly noticeable. I am glad of it because it allows me to put my feelings about this catastrophe back into the box where they now reside so I can move on with my life. It’s going to be okay.
It’s going to be okay.
Cheers.
red bird suite 