You'd think there weren't any sweatshops left the Garment District, but not so.
Buried on various floors of older high rise buildings are work rooms, filled with sewing machines and thread. There, samples are made for fashion designers for fittings and photoshoots.
One of my hobbies is sewing, and I was looking for a fabric store on Monday. Only I had wandered onto the wrong floor of the wrong building.
But for a split second after getting of the elevator, I looked through an open door. There was a treadle-operated sewing machine straight ahead (that black thing on the table) - a sewing machine run by a peddle that an operator pumps up and down with her foot.
Spools of different colored thread dangled precariously. A general mess. A fire waiting to happen. A step backwards in time.
Related posts: Tailor Made, in the Garment District, Over the Shoulder in the Garment District, and Fashionably Late.
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