Updated 1/19/18
Isn’t that name just too cute? It was my first needlepoint shop and I started going there in 1970, shortly before I turned 14. The shop was in Wexford, PA (Pine Township), right next to Wexford Antiques. Looking like a little 40’s cottage on the outside, it had 4 rooms and was, I think, the Wexford Post Office. The last time I was by there, decades ago, it was a deli. The antique store is still there I think, although Wexford is firmly in suburbia now and no longer the “ruburb” (rural suburb) of my childhood and youth.
The front room had kits on tables. The room behind it had the best display/storage for threads EVER! The other two rooms had books, canvas, and probably things I couldn’t afford in high school and college, like painted canvases.
I loved that thread display! It was one of those old-fashioned brass front post office box units. The Persian Wool was put in one color per box. The color number was the box number, To get threads, the employees would go behind the boxes and pull out the thread.
I bought my first kit there. They taught me how to make my first textured stitch (Encroached Gobelin) and encouraged my designing efforts. I also bought my first Bargello book there. Long after I left Pittsburgh, I would visit the shop whenever I went home. It’s long gone, but it will always be dear to me.
Even though needlepoint was booming in the 70’s young people doing needlepoint was considered very odd. As a result the ladies who worked there loved it when I came in and really encouraged my creativity.
Thinking back on it I’m certain that they created an environment that made needlepoint very approachable, creative, and fun. The store wasn’t fancy but practical. Except for the amazing display of Paternayan, there were linoleum floors and stuff displayed on folding tables. Many of the things we love to see in stores, such as cozy stitching places and classrooms, weren’t there. Instead you found encouragement and friendship. There wouldn’t have been wall space for a trunk show, even if they had been around then.
It could be because of those ladies that needlepoint being a “rich lady’s hobby” never occurred to me. The Pine Needle wasn’t a store for the rich. It was in farm country and was created for practicality and for stitchers. Because of my mom being an artist I was used to hanging out in studios with creative people and so The Pine Needle looked correct to me. It looked like, and indeed was, a place to be creative.
I think about The Pine Needle often and how visiting it changed my life. As I got older I visited other shops, but rarely would I find such a great combination and such encouragement. It’s something that I think we lose sight of these days. In a world where canvas can cost hundreds of dollars and shops vie to have very expensive classes with nationally-known teacher, how often do we find these kinds of stores?
How many stores these days are that welcoming? How many stores say that you can pursue this art even if you have little money and are an awkward teen? How often do we welcome people into our stores and our guilds even if they aren’t the usual type of needlepointer?
Other stores in the area I visited turned me off with snobbish attitudes, restrictive hours, or strange ideas, but The Pine Needle had my love until it closed. It’s still close to ideal in my mind.
About Janet M Perry
Janet Perry is the Internet's leading authority on needlepoint. She designs, teaches and writes, getting raves from her fans for her innovative techniques, extensive knowledge and generous teaching style. A leading writer of stitch guides, she blogs here and lives on an island in the northeast corner of the SF Bay with her family
Hi,
I was so excited to read your article. My mom, Marty Welch, was one of the owners of
The Pine Needle! I worked there through college and taught needlepoint classes to kids. I believe I left before you became a
customer.
Your article brought tears to my eyes. My mother was an avid crewel and neelepointer
and would have been so thrilled to hear
of your love of needlework, inspired by the
shop. My father was the artist who painted
all the canvases. I still have a photo album of his work.
I found your article one day just playing on the computer and entering the shop’s
name. I never believed it would lead to such a warm memory.
Thank you!
Nan Arotsky
Thanks so much for the comment, I’m glad it brought back happy memories.
Keep Stitching,
Janet
My ‘first’ needleshop with Featheridge in Greenwich, CT, however, the one your post reminded me most of was the one I would frequent whenever I visited my folks in Salem, SC – ‘The Cat’s Meow’ located on Ram Cat Alley. It, too, was warm and inviting and laid out to make customers feel welcome. It’s been closed now for several years, but I still have several patterns I bought there before they closed.
Hi, Janet! I hope this finds you feeling better. I love the memories above, from both you and Nan. I was introduced to needlepoint back in the 70s. Then, our local shop was actually in a woman’s home where she had miles and miles of flat-ish drawers, from floor to ceiling, filled with amazing canvas designs. Her in-house painter would put together a personally designed canvas of whatever your interest was, never inexpensive but somehow affordable. Those were the days. Then the owner retired and we all had to find local needlepoint shops but they left much to be desired with little custom work and a comparatively paltry selection of canvases. But the worst of it was the prevailing snobby attitude. I eventually gave up my beloved needlepointing, only to return nearly 40 years later after seeing something on ebay that caught my eye and the insistence of an addicted quilter who felt I was really missing out on something I could enjoy again. Boy, was she right. I’m as happy as a clam now:-) If the hands are able, it’s never too late to pick it up again. But, here’s a kicker: the old designs from that woman’s house are now owned by the woman who was her painter and I can’t get her to let loose of them so the world can enjoy those exquisite designs. They sit in her attic in a trunk. What’s your advice? The original designer was Lydia Lee. I have seen few designs today to match hers. How can I pry these loose? They’re probably worth a small fortune and I know many stitichers would love to purchase them through the appropriate vendor.
I worked in a shop many years ago and tried very hard to keep a welcoming attitude – No project was too small or unimportant – Just loved it so much – Stitchers are great people!!
Janet,
Like Joanne, I also hope you are feeling better and getting the rest you need. I read your post about cutting back and thought – You Haven’t Stopped in Forever. This Should be Interesting!
The Needlepoint Universe Owes a Huge Debt of Gratitude to Nan’s Mother and Father and Everyone at the the Pine Needle Shop for all their nurturing, encouragement and guidance. Their selfless, loving efforts has resulted in giving all of us an invaluable, creative, knowledgeable, passionate individual, who willingly shares her expertise and skills, and secrets of discovery with the rest of us.
I will be forever grateful for the wonderful experiences you had at the Pine Needle – because you continue to pass them on to everyone everyday! Thank You!!!! Kathi Healey
Such a nice article! I wish I even had an opportunity to critique (kindly) my local needle shop but unfortunately our city does not have one. The cities surrounding me do not either. I miss the advice I received from the local shop. So sweet stitching sisters enjoy the brick and mortar you may have that is only 1 hop, skip, and jump and away.
I know what you mean. When I moved up this way there were two in town: one wonderful, pone not-so-good. Both are gone. My closest shop that I can get into is 45 minutes away. So I do almost everything by phone & Internet.
It’s not the same but it works.
Keep stitching,
Janet