The Visiting Needlewoman

An extract from my new book - "English Sewing in the 20th Century- A History of the English Sewing Cotton Company and the Way We Used to Sew" by Sarah Miller Walters. 

At the bottom end of the scale of sewing careers was the visiting needlewoman. In 1939, Home Chat magazine announced to their domestically minded female readers that 

"There's a career in needlework".

The full page article began by describing how to become a qualified teacher in the subject and described the surprisingly wide variation of places where training could be accessed including county council training centres, correspondence course providers, polytechnics or even (presumably for the better off) the Royal School in Kensington. Employment suggestions included masonic or military embroidery. Upper class households might also be in need of a resident needlewoman to take care of the household clothing and linen. But the final suggestion was that of the visiting needlewoman - those who went into family homes and helped out with the household sewing needs as and when required. Home Chat advises readers to start this kind of business by printing small cards and distributing these around the neighborhood. Another common method of advertising was to place a classified advert in local newspapers and journals. 

The visiting needlewoman was extolled as a wise work choice in the Stratford-Upon-Avon Herald in June 1927:

"One occupation certainly not overcrowded is that of the visiting sewing-maid. In vast numbers of servantless homes, where housewives wrestle with the general work...the competent needlewoman is heartily welcomed. Half a crown is the fee usually asked for three hours' mending and plain sewing..."

The benefits listed included no outlay or capital required, and that one job would lead to another through personal recommendations. It was assumed that the customer would supply the materials needed, but the needlewoman should always have her own toolkit of thimble, needlecase, scissors and tape measure.

As late as 1969, columnist Mary L Stollard, who was writing women's columns for regional newspapers, cited the visiting needlewoman as a way of supplementing income.

"Who does not know the overworked mother or hurried businesswoman, who would gladly welcome anyone who could come in and help her to mend and make."

She suggests 3 shillings an hour as the going rate by then - and quite often a meal and cups of tea if working in one house for the whole day. Another advantage pointed out is that while working in other people's homes, the heating and lighting of your own place is saved. This comment suggests that the role was a suitable one for widows or spinsters who lived alone in straitened circumstances. The earlier comment that this occupation was not a crowded one also hints that the visiting needlewoman was not a high status role. In fact, reports from a murder case in the Victorian period mentions that the accused woman was "in the habit" of going around local homes to do the sewing - as if this suggests someone of low morals. By the mid 20th century, attitudes towards this kind of work may have altered to some extent, but could easily have retained a hint of it being an occupation turned to out of necessity rather than choice.

The one downside of this kind of work not mentioned in any articles was having to face the vagaries of human nature. We all know the picky type, never satisfied with the quality of workmanship; the liberty-taker, who would expect too much in too short a timespan; the indecisive type who wouldn't be able to make up their mind what they wanted resulting in wasted time. I'm also convinced that there would be the mean employers, who would be stingy with the cups of tea and food. And at least one visiting needlewoman was accused of theft by an employer. A visiting needlewoman would have to be continuously on her guard - and hope to reach a position where she could pick and choose her clientele

Download a pdf of the book from my Etsy shop