Wanted to make something fun for the girls and my nephews, so I made four Halloween bags: Frankenstein, ghost, shadow, and pumpkin! All made from 420D Robic with ripstop and packcloth linings. Getting the gusset measurements right took some trial and error, but digitizing the pattern and following Ryan’s advice to sew with the gusset underneath and the panel on top helped a lot.

My nephews were so pumped—their smiles made all the hard work worth it!

It’s been a little while since I’ve posted anything, so here’s a small weekend project.

My wife asked me to make her a tote, with her only real request being: something green.

I went with 12 oz sage green waxed duck canvas for the body, paired with some generic khaki 600D I had laying around for the bottom and straps. I reinforced the bottom with another layer of PU-coated fabric for some extra structure and durability, then used a fun printed ripstop for the interior.

I have to say, I really love the look of waxed canvas. The texture, creases, and character it picks up while you work with it just make the finished bag look that much better. Definitely a material I want to use more often.

Nothing overly complicated with this one—just a simple, useful tote that was fun to put together.

Most importantly, she loves it, so I’ll call it a win!

Just wanted to share since it’s been a bit. What do you all think?

TL;DR: Drove 3 hours to buy a LU-563 only to have the seller cancel while I was on the way. Ended up finding this neglected LU-562 in PA for $300 instead. Tore it down, cleaned decades of grime and dried oil, restored the stand, wrapped the tabletop, installed a servo motor with a needle positioner, and brought it back to life. Still need a few presser feet and accessories, but it’s sewing beautifully now—and I’m officially hooked on industrial machines.

What a rollercoaster this machine turned out to be.

Two weeks ago I was all set to buy a Juki LU-563 in Maryland. I had already driven almost 3 hours when the seller messaged me saying he had an “emergency” and couldn’t meet. Needless to say, I wasn’t thrilled.

Since I was already halfway there, I started searching Marketplace again and found this LU-562 in Pennsylvania. Considering the condition, I offered $300, and they accepted. I rushed over before anything else could happen. When I got it home… it was rough.

It looked like it had spent years sitting in a basement. It was covered in grime, dog hair, old oil, and had that unmistakable musty basement smell. Judging by the condition, I don’t think it had seen fresh oil in many years.

I decided to give it a second life.
Disassembled the stand
Removed the rust and repainted the legs
Wrapped the tabletop in vinyl
Cleaned years of oil sludge from the machine
Flushed and re-oiled every lubrication point
Cleaned the hook race and hook drive
Replaced the clutch motor with a servo
Added a needle positioner (which has been an absolute game changer!)

The machine fought me a little along the way. I spent far more time than I expected chasing what I believe is some bevel gear noise in the hook drive. After a lot of troubleshooting, cleaning, oiling, and testing, I decided to stop overthinking it. The machine sews beautifully, the noise has actually started getting quieter as everything has been cleaned, lubricated, and run in, and I’m just going to enjoy using it.

It’s not completely finished yet. I still need to:
Dial in the stitch length a little more.
Pick up a few presser feet (zipper, piping, and a standard smooth set).
Order some larger cones of bonded polyester thread and more bobbins.
Install a binder attachment.

Even so, it’s already sewing far better than I expected for a machine that had clearly been neglected for years.

Coming from vintage domestic Singers, the servo motor with a needle positioner is incredible. I honestly don’t think I could go back. Having slow-speed control and the needle automatically stopping exactly where I want it has made sewing so much easier.

Here are some before and after photos. I’m really happy with how this old LU-562 cleaned up, and considering this was my first time working on an industrial machine, I’m even happier that I didn’t mess anything up. I think it has many more decades of life left in it.

I always enjoy seeing old machines brought back instead of being scrapped, so I figured I’d share this one.

If anyone has favorite presser feet, binder setups, or other must-have accessories for the LU-562, I’d love to hear your recommendations.

I’ve finally narrowed my search down to two machines, and I’d really appreciate input from anyone who’s actually owned or sewn on both.

For context, I’m strictly a hobbyist. I mostly make MYOG gear—backpacks, slings, organizers, pouches, etc. Materials are mostly Cordura, 420D Robic, X-Pac, Hex70 lining, webbing, foam, spacer mesh, and the occasional vinyl project. I don’t sew leather beyond maybe a patch or light trim.

I recently bought a Sailrite LS-1 and, while I understand why people like them, it just wasn’t for me. It felt clunky and unrefined compared to what I’m looking for, so I’m selling it and moving to a full-size industrial.

Here are my current options:

Juki LU-563

• $850 asking (hoping to negotiate a little)
• Includes several extra presser feet and a bunch of M bobbins
• Clutch motor
• About 3 hours away

Consew 206RB-5

• $1,000 asking (also hoping to negotiate)
• Servo motor already installed
• Looks to be in excellent condition
• About 2 hours away

Posted are pictures of both machines.

I know the 206 is newer and already has the servo, but I also know the LU-563 has an excellent reputation and, if I’m honest, it’s the machine I’m naturally drawn toward. That said, I’m trying to make an informed decision instead of buying with my heart.

For those of you who have actually used one or both:

• Which machine did you prefer?
• Does the Juki really feel noticeably smoother or more refined?
• Is the top-loading bobbin on the LU-563 something you end up appreciating?
• Is there anything about the 206RB-5 that you liked better in everyday use?
• If the prices end up around $750–800 for the Juki and $900–950 for the Consew, which would you buy? Note: my area sucks and things are always at a premium.

Again, this is purely for a hobby. I’m not running a business or sewing 8 hours a day. What’s most important to me is simply owning a machine that’s enjoyable to sit down and use for years.

I’d love to hear from people with real hands-on experience rather than spec sheet comparisons. Thanks!

I’ve been looking to upgrade from a Sailrite LS-1 to a true industrial compound-feed walking foot machine, mainly for MYOG projects (Cordura, Robic, X-Pac/Ecopak, webbing, spacer mesh, vinyl, etc.).

I found a Pfaff 545-H3 with a servo motor for $700. From the photos it looks complete and in good cosmetic condition.
The catch is that the seller messaged me saying:

“I tried to demonstrate it last night and it wouldn’t sew. It needs cleaned and serviced. It has been in my garage for almost 2 years.”

He said he’s planning to have it serviced, but it’s about a 3+ hour drive for me, so I’m trying to decide whether it’s worth pursuing or if I should just wait for another machine.

I’ve gotten fairly comfortable working on sewing machines (timing, tension, walking foot adjustments, etc.), but I don’t want to drive several hours only to discover it has a damaged hook or some expensive internal issue.

What would you do?
Would you wait until it’s serviced?
Would you consider buying it as-is at a lower price?
Is there anything specific I should ask the seller to check before making the trip?
I’m trying to be patient, but good industrial walking-foot machines don’t come up very often in my area.

Just finished this bag for my wife’s everyday carry. The goal was to make something compact that could keep all of her diabetes supplies organized while still functioning as a purse.

It’s based on the LearnMYOG Tech Pouch, but I modified the pattern by adding a second zippered compartment with a gusset to separate her medication and supplies from everything else. I also added a zippered pocket on the back that’s just the right size for her phone.

Materials are 420D Robic for the exterior, 70D ripstop for the lining, EVA foam for a bit of structure, and sewable interfacing to help the bag hold its shape and give the lining a little more support.

This was also my first real attempt at using my Sailrite LS-1, I first tried the binding attachment. Did not work well, so ended up placing binding by hand then sew it. It definitely made the job easier, but I’m still not completely happy with the results—I think I just need more practice.

One funny thing… I made matching zipper pulls, but my wife insisted she didn’t want them. We’ll see if she changes her mind. 😄

Most importantly, she’s really happy with it, and I’m glad I was able to make something tailored to her needs. I’d love to hear what you all think or what you’d do differently.

My wife and daughters were gifted a few of these Mini Trader Joe’s tote bags, and I thought it would be a nice touch to add a lining. But instead of stopping there, I decided to make them a little more functional.

Each bag got a zippered top closure, an interior zippered pocket, and a slip pocket. A couple are lined with custom-printed ripstop, while the others use a generic 70D ripstop. I was surprised by how straightforward the project was, and it made these little totes much more practical for everyday use.

As a bonus, it gave me another excuse to sew on my recently restored Singer 201-2. I own several other vintage machines, but this one has quickly become my favorite. It’s smooth, quiet, and somehow always ends up being the machine I reach for first.

What do you all think?

Just saw this on FB marketplace and looks like a good deal. I would absolutely grab if I had space. Posting here in case anyone looking…

Finished restoring these two little Singer 20 toy sewing machines and had an absolute blast working on them.

Based on the handwheel style and other features, they appear to date somewhere between 1914 and 1926. The transformation compared to how they arrived is pretty dramatic.

I used essentially the same process as I did on my recent Singer 201 restoration. All of the nickel-plated parts were cleaned up with a wire wheel and then polished on a bench buffer. The bed plates were a whole different story—I progressively sanded them from 80 grit all the way to 10,000 grit before polishing.

Unfortunately, I got a little too aggressive while sanding and actually rounded off part of one corner of a bed plate. I also chased some of the pitting more than I probably should have. In the end, I decided to leave some of the remaining imperfections alone. They’re over 100 years old, and a little character isn’t the end of the world.

After polishing, I applied a light coat of TR-3 to the bare metal parts to help slow oxidation.

One machine is complete, while the other is still missing the handwheel handle, handle screw, and spool pin. It was also missing the screw that secures the needle bar, but I discovered that an M3 screw fits perfectly. I’m still debating whether to fabricate the missing parts, hunt down originals, or simply leave it as a display piece.

One of the machines also arrived with a bent handwheel stud. I was able to carefully straighten it without breaking it, which felt like a minor miracle considering its age.

And before anyone points it out—yes, the needle is taped together. I’m still waiting for some 24x1 needles to arrive and used a broken needle to get both machines timed and functioning.

What started as a quick cleanup turned into another full teardown, polishing, and reassembly project.

Next up are a Singer 20-10 and a 301.

This hobby is becoming a serious addiction.

Here is a link with more photos:
https://imgur.com/a/phPmTie

TL;DR: Bought a rough 1936 Singer 201-2 a few weeks ago intending to simply clean and service it. Instead, I ended up completely disassembling it, building an electrolysis tank, learning paint correction from YouTube, repairing casting defects, repainting it in midnight blue, applying decals, clear coating, wet sanding, polishing, restoring the original cabinet, breaking a few parts, buying far more tools than planned, and somehow ending up with a machine I'm incredibly proud of.

A few weeks ago I picked up this 1936 Singer 201-2.

My original plan was simple: clean it, service it, and put it back into use.

That plan lasted about a day.

The more I cleaned and inspected the machine, the more obvious it became that the finish was in rough shape. I spent quite a bit of time trying to convince myself not to repaint it because I knew what kind of rabbit hole that could become. Unfortunately, the finish was just too far gone for me to ignore, so I decided to go all in and attempt a full restoration.

At the time, I had never fully disassembled a machine to this extent on my own. Mechanical work doesn't intimidate me much, but paint and body work were completely new territory. I didn't consult any professionals. Most of what I learned came from countless automotive restoration and detailing videos on YouTube and a lot of trial and error.

Disassembly and Stripping

The first challenge was figuring out how to strip the machine.

After a lot of reading and watching videos, I decided to build a homemade electrolysis tank to help remove rust and loosen the old finish. That meant buying a power supply, building the tank, mixing everything up, and hoping for the best.

While it definitely helped, it wasn't nearly as magical as I had hoped.

After the electrolysis bath I still spent countless hours with:

• Wire wheels
• Drill attachments
• Picks
• Scrapers
• Abrasives
• Hand tools

trying to remove every last bit of paint from all the casting recesses and corners.

At several points I questioned whether I should have just found someone to sandblast it.

Repairing the Casting

Once everything was stripped, I discovered something I hadn't expected.

The casting itself was pretty rough.

There were numerous:

• Casting pits
• Voids
• Surface imperfections

that had been hidden by decades of paint.

I used Bondo filler to repair the worst areas and quickly learned that every time I thought I was done, another defect would reveal itself after primer. What followed was an endless cycle of sanding, priming, finding flaws, sanding again, and repeating the process.

Paint System

For anyone curious, I used:

• Rust-Oleum Self-Etching Primer
• Rust-Oleum 2X Satin Midnight Blue
• SprayMax 2K Clear

I know there are better automotive systems available, but I wanted to use products that were reasonably accessible and affordable for a first attempt.

After multiple coats of primer and a lot of sanding, I applied the color coat in several light passes over multiple days.

Patience was by far the hardest part.

Every instinct wanted me to spray heavier coats to speed things up, but every video I watched emphasized building color gradually.

Clear Coat Attempt #1

Once the paint had cured, I applied my first round of SprayMax 2K clear.

This is where I learned that clear coat can be both amazing and incredibly frustrating.

I ended up with:

• Dust nibs
• Orange peel
• A few runs
• Random debris embedded in the finish

The finish wasn't terrible, but it wasn't good enough for me to leave alone.

So I wet sanded much of the machine and eventually applied another light coat of clear before moving on to decals.

Decals

The decals turned out to be one of the easier parts of the project.

Ironically, cutting them out accurately was harder than actually applying them.

I had expected the decal application itself to be the stressful part, but they went on surprisingly well.

After applying the decals, I waited several days before applying more clear.

Unfortunately, because I waited longer than planned, my original can of SprayMax 2K was no longer usable. That meant buying a second can just to finish the project.

Clear Coat Attempt #2

The second round of clear went much better.

Not perfectly, of course.

I still managed to collect:

• Dust
• Small runs
• A few imperfections

but by this point I had accepted that I was painting in a garage, not a professional paint booth.

I finally reached the point where I felt comfortable letting everything cure and moving on.

Polishing

After allowing the clear coat to cure for about a month, I started polishing.

Initially I thought I had ruined the finish.

I had wet sanded portions of the machine with 2000-3000 grit and was struggling to remove the sanding marks. The polishing compound I started with simply wasn't aggressive enough.

After a lot of frustration, I switched compounds and started working through the finish with a mini polisher and foam pads.

That was the moment everything finally came together.

The deep blue color started to come alive and the finish developed the depth and gloss I had been chasing for weeks.

After weeks of staring at a dull, sanded machine and wondering if I had made a huge mistake, finally seeing the color and gloss emerge was incredibly satisfying.

The Setbacks

No restoration project would be complete without a few disasters.

Along the way I managed to:

• Chip paint during assembly
• Damage the finish with pliers while installing hardware
• Break a hook retaining screw
• Spend way too much time searching for replacement hardware
• Learn that assembly can be just as dangerous to a finish as painting

Every time I thought I was finished, I found something else that needed attention.

The Cabinet

I also restored the original Cabinet #48 during this project.

Rather than making this post even longer, I already created a separate post covering that restoration in detail and will link it below.

The short version is that I originally planned to use chemical stripper, but after researching it for days I realized I had absolutely no idea what I was doing and was worried about making a mess indoors.

So I ended up stripping most of it manually, using scrapers, an orbital sander, and a lot of patience.

For the finish I used Tried & True hard wax oil and was extremely happy with the results.

Ironically, the cabinet restoration went much smoother than the machine restoration.

The Cost

One thing I completely underestimated was how much stuff I would end up buying along the way.

The machine itself wasn't particularly expensive, but the restoration certainly wasn't free.

I found myself constantly purchasing tools, supplies, and materials that I didn't own when I started, including:

• Power supply for the electrolysis tank
• Materials to build the electrolysis tank
• Wire wheels
• Abrasives and sandpaper
• Bondo and filler supplies
• Rust-Oleum primer and paint
• Multiple cans of SprayMax 2K clear
• Orbital sander
• Bench polisher for small parts
• Mini polisher for the machine
• Buffing compounds
• Polishing pads
• Electrical supplies
• Replacement wiring
• Miscellaneous hardware
• Parts that I broke and eventually replaced by purchasing an entire donor machine

At some point I stopped keeping track because I didn't really want to know the answer.

Let's just say the machine may have been the cheapest part of the project.

The funny thing is that many of those purchases weren't actually for this machine. They were investments in learning new skills and acquiring tools that I'll continue using on future projects.

If I had to do another machine tomorrow, I could probably complete it for significantly less money because I already own most of the equipment.

By the end of this project I had essentially built a small restoration shop around a Singer sewing machine.

What I Learned

A few lessons from this adventure:

• Patience matters more than skill.
• Most mistakes can be fixed.
• Dust will find its way into your paint no matter what.
• Runs are not the end of the world.
• Sanding and polishing are where the magic happens.
• Assembly can damage a finish just as quickly as painting.
• There is an unbelievable amount of knowledge available from people willing to share their experiences online.

Most importantly:

Don't be afraid to try.

When I started this project I had never fully disassembled a 201, never built an electrolysis tank, never done body filler work, never applied waterslide decals, and never cut and polished a 2K finish.

I made mistakes at nearly every stage of this project and still ended up with a machine I'm incredibly proud of.

Final Thoughts

Looking back at the photos of where this machine started, I'd do this project all over again in a heartbeat.

Would I repaint another machine?

Honestly, I'm not sure.

This project took far longer than I ever expected and tested my patience repeatedly.

That said, if I ever decide to tackle another one, I feel much more prepared than I did when I started.

For anyone considering restoring a vintage Singer: give it a shot. It may not be perfect, but bringing one of these incredible machines back to life is incredibly rewarding.

Thanks to my very patient and understanding wife and to everyone here who answered questions, shared advice, and helped me through the inevitable moments of self-inflicted panic.

For anyone interested, I've included links below to the cabinet restoration, my original "should I paint this thing?" post, and a larger album with additional photos from the process.

Cabinet restoration:
https://www.reddit.com/r/vintagesewing/comments/1s7e6j8/1936_singer_cabinet_48_restoration/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

Original post before painting:
https://www.reddit.com/r/vintagesewing/comments/1sa4kj2/painting_my_singer_201/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

Additional photos:
https://imgur.com/a/8J5mBkp

It's been a few weeks since I've sewn anything, mostly because I've been spending all my free time restoring a recently acquired Singer 201-2. The good news is that the machine turned out beautifully and sews like an absolute dream, so I figured it was time to make sure I hadn't forgotten how to use it.

First up is a padded desk mat for my wife's workspace. It's made from cotton with fusible fleece and a layer of quilting batting for extra cushioning. I added a grippy backing to help keep it from sliding around on the desk. Simple project, but it turned out really well and is already getting daily use.

The second project is a Kindle sleeve with a small front pocket. Overall, I'm happy with how it came out, but I completely forgot to add zipper tabs before sewing everything together, so the zipper ends look a little wonky. Lesson learned for next time.

The exterior is a custom-printed ripstop, lined with HyperD 300, and padded with foam for a bit of protection. Despite the zipper oversight, it does exactly what I wanted it to do.

Nothing groundbreaking here, but it felt good to get back behind the machine and make a couple of useful items.

Amazing how quickly you forget little details like zipper tabs after taking a few weeks off.

Hello everyone, I’m almost done with my restoration! I have a quick question. Does the 201-2 have this almost knocking sound when sewing? Is this considered normal?

I ask because this sound seems much more pronounced when compared to my 15-91.

Thank you!

Hit another snag while putting together my freshly painted and restored 201-2. I got carried away and applied way too much pressure and the screw for the hook assembly broke off. I managed to remove the screw but unfortunately this one has very little room for me to fix with jb weld.

Cant seem to find one online, so I might have to find a parts 201.

I was so excited to put everything together and start testing :(

I recently visited a Habitat for Humanity store for the first time and stumbled upon this 301A. It requires some oil, grease, and rust removal, but it appears to be in decent condition.

I believe it’s an excellent deal at $40. It also includes a stool.

Could you please identify the specific cabinet version? I noticed that the drawer for the Queen Anne cabinet looks different.

This 301A now makes up my fourth vintage cabinet (15-91, 237, 201-2).

Which would you pick and what would be a fair price? Currently relying on non-walking foot machines for my myog needs.