“What a gorgeous jacket,” I said when I saw the indigo silk Shantung jacket worn by a woman at a Finnish coffee party I attended in Orono one pleasant Sunday afternoon in April. Appliqu?d daisies made of various printed silk fabrics adorned the front, back and one sleeve of the jacket.

“Neckties,” the woman said. She had designed and made the jacket. She said that she had asked friends for their old ties, which she cut up to use for the flowers. A clever touch was a small yellow silk print pocket sewed to the bottom edge of the jacket lining – the perfect place to tuck away a handkerchief or a bit of “mad money.” The jacket had two tab closures, a simple round neckline and drop shoulder seams.

The party was the second annual get-together of a few women of Scandinavian heritage. I was at the party because my friend, whose father was a Finn, and I have known each other for 25 years. My only claim to Scandinavian connection is that my mother’s people, the Herricks, may be descended from Erik the Red of Denmark. But there’s no way to prove that.

The woman wearing the jacket wasn’t Scandinavian either, but she has cross-country skied and bicycled in several Scandinavian countries. The rest of the women at the party were another Finn, a Swede, a Norwegian and a Puerto Rican who was certain she had no Scandinavian heritage. Not that it mattered. For that afternoon, at least, we were all Finns at heart, especially after we had savored Alexander tarts and blueberry cake, and the fabulous cake my friend’s husband made, which can only be described as “delirium by chocolate.”

The indigo silk jacket turned out to be a pleasant link between its maker and myself. Women who sew understand one another instinctively. We know the allure of fabrics, their colors and textures. We have this thing for the architecture of clothing and enjoy building it, solving fitting and design problems as we stitch. We admire the skill and artistry of others who sew.

Although the occasion wasn’t the place to pursue a more detailed conversation about sewing, the mere sight of the jacket was enough to remind me all over again that beautiful things aren’t always made of new fabrics; artistic made-by-hand clothing doesn’t have to come from the hands of those trained in art; and a well-made, beautiful garment worn with pride is as much a social asset as a charming personality.

Another needlework conversation arose at the gathering. The woman of Finnish heritage from Norridgewock is a weaver, raises sheep and is interested in learning more about Finland’s knitting traditions.

I told her I’d send her an article from a back issue of Piecework, January-February 2004, about the knitting of Kornas, a village on the west coast of Finland.

If there are knitters in Monson or readers elsewhere who knit using traditional Finnish patterns, techniques and designs, who are willing to share, I’d like to hear your knitting stories, too.

Snippets

The Penobscot Marine Museum in Searsport has a special theme for the 2005 season, “Needle in My Hand: Stitching in the 19th Century.” The exhibit, curated by museum staff members Betty Schopmeyer and Edith Murphy, will be in place until Oct. 16, when the museum closes for the winter.

Quilts, elaborate gilded sewing baskets, ivory sewing implements, clothing and samplers are a few of the articles on display, organizers said. Because of Maine’s maritime heritage, many of the items are from China, Japan and India. One sampler was made by an 8-year-old girl as she sailed with her family from Java to China. A frilly lace dress in the exhibit was made by crew members for the captain’s daughter.

A centerpiece of the exhibit is a velvet crazy quilt made by the ladies of the Methodist Church in Searsport in 1908.

Admission to the museum is $8, $3 children age 7-15, free to children age 6 and under.

To learn more about the exhibit and the museum, call 548-2529, ext. 200.

Ardeana Hamlin may be reached at 990-8153, or e-mail ahamlin@bangordailynews.net.