Time to get out the sewing machine was always a cry going up the minute the clothes chest came down from the attic when I was a nipper. There was a definite changeover at Easter and October. In spring the chest came down and out came the summer clothes – pretty little frocks, the much loved lighter vests and pants. We even had favourite socks, although I suspect we were bought new ones as well. The winter garb was wash, aired and back into the chest that went. Funny how this ritual was carried out in most homes across the country and probably amongst the very old community still today.
When clothes had been outgrown, then we were measured and miraculously a couple of days later, there would be a new version of the dress, skirt, whatever. Our grandmother was an absolute whizz at all things dressmaking, knitting, sewing in general. Her talents were sadly not inherited!