We’re not talking Jersey Tomatoes here – No sir, this is all about those red plump stuffed cloth tomatoes. My grandmother had one, my mother had one and I had one. It ends here no doubt. I know my daughter doesn’t have one and wonder how many of her friends do? Not likely! Wonder if any of them have the pins or needles or thread that also go into this homemaker’s essential salad?
Well be that as it may, I was surprised to receive an email extolling the virtues and the origin of this at-one-time-ubiquitious household tool. The Sourcerer strikes again – twice in one week!!! Thanks to Gail who tipped me off about my mentor Martha’s article about pin cushions, tomato pin cushions to be exact and her take on 21st century examples.
The following is excepted from Martha Stewart’s web site:
Pincushions come in all shapes and sizes, but the tomato is the design that prevails as the classic. But why a tomato of all things? Turns out it’s not random: There’s actually a reason for the tomato design, and it dates back to the Victorian era.
The first-ever documented mention of a generic pincushion dates back to the Middle Ages. Of course, in those days, they were more whimsically called “pimpilowes,” “pyn pillows,” and “pin-poppets.” The pincushion was invented as a practical aid for storing pins and needles, but it also showcased one’s collection of pins and needles. (Needles were costly, after all.) But the less-iconic shapes of dolls, birds, and prettily-packaged boxes left something to be desired.
Enter the time-honored tomato. According to tradition, placing a tomato on the mantel of a new home ensured prosperity by warding off evil spirits. When tomatoes were out of season, people weren’t totally out of luck: They simply improvised with red material, sawdust, and a little bit of ingenuity.
A lady of the Victorian era would take immense pride in a parlor room stocked with shelves upon shelves of pincushions, but the tomato was always the crowning acheivement of her collection. Since then, we’ve been piercing our pins into stuffed fabric tomatoes without question. But it’s “sew” much more fun to know where they come from, am I right?
In this case a picture is really worth 1000 words:
NOT YOUR GRANDMOTHER’S PIN CUSHION
Bill Ding and his band of clowns are the security patrol for this blog site. He is a favorite toy from the 50*s. By the way sometimes a blog is just an ego-maniacal stream of conscience.
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