1. Buttons from Random Shirts No One Remembered Owning
You’d open the sewing kit looking for thread, and instead, you’d find a tiny baggie of mismatched buttons that didn’t seem to go with any shirt currently in the house. Some were shiny, some dull, a few even had those pearlescent finishes like something from the ’60s. If you asked your mom where they came from, she’d shrug and say, “Just in case.” It was like a museum of past wardrobes—proof of blouses long gone and kids who grew faster than their closets could keep up says Homes and Gardens.
Even though they had nothing to do with your current life, she couldn’t bring herself to toss them. You never knew when you might need “a good button,” as she liked to say. Never mind that none of them matched. The buttons stayed, tucked into a recycled Altoids tin or tiny zipper pouch. And there they remained for decades, faithfully unused adds the Pioneer Woman.
2. Safety Pins for Fixing Everything Except Clothes
Safety pins were the MVPs of the sewing kit, but not for actual sewing. Moms used them for everything else—securing broken bra straps, holding a makeshift Halloween costume together, or even standing in for a missing zipper pull. There was always a weirdly large one, like something out of a punk rock concert, sitting beside the tiny ones that would barely hold a sock together shares Glamour.
Need to fix a curtain in a hurry? Safety pin. Lost a button on your pants? Safety pin. She had them in gold, silver, and sometimes a rusty one that looked like it had been in there since the Eisenhower era. They were like the duct tape of the sewing kit—overused, underappreciated, and often forgotten until you really needed one says VICE.
3. Birthday Candles—Usually Broken
You’d dig around for a needle and come across a few stubby, half-used birthday candles with the wax melted just enough to fuse them together. Why were they in the sewing kit? Because, according to Mom, “That’s where I put them so I’d remember where they are.” Logical? Not really. Effective? Debatable.
Sometimes they were those old-school striped ones, other times they were plain white emergency candles pretending to be festive. She didn’t want to throw them away because “you never know when someone’s going to need a candle.” And somehow, the sewing kit became the catch-all for that kind of logic. If you ever needed to celebrate a birthday on the fly, Mom had you covered… with three squished candles and a lighter that may or may not work.
4. Twist Ties from Bread Bags
Buried under spools of thread were always a few random twist ties, usually the kind from bread bags or produce. They weren’t there for sewing—unless you count temporarily fixing a broken zipper or holding a button in place until she “got around to it.” Moms saw potential in those little strips of wire and paper. They were too useful to throw away.
Need to keep a bag of rice shut? Twist tie. Wrapping up cords that had gotten tangled? Twist tie. They served a thousand purposes but were always stashed in the weirdest spot: right next to the thimble she never used. And when you asked why they were in there, she’d say something like, “Where else would I put them?” Fair enough.
5. A Tube of Lip Balm with No Label
There was always that one mysterious lip balm—missing its label, half-melted, and questionably clean—hiding in the bottom of the kit. Sometimes it was ChapStick, other times it was that strong-smelling stuff that doubled as a cure-all for colds, dry skin, and probably heartbreak. She kept it handy, “just in case someone needs it.” Spoiler alert: no one ever used it.
But she wasn’t about to toss it. It had likely been there for years, maybe even since before you were born. It had a certain nostalgic smell, like the past mixed with old thread. You’d open the kit, smell that faint medicinal mint, and know you were in the right place—even if you didn’t find what you were actually looking for.
6. Stamps That Were Probably Outdated
At some point, someone must’ve said, “Put them somewhere safe,” and the sewing kit became that place. Tucked beside the bobbins and tape measure, you’d find a few old postage stamps—some still attached to a sheet, others floating free. A couple might even have Elvis on them. They were usually slightly bent, with the corners curling, but they were there… just in case you needed to mail something in 1994.
Of course, by the time you rediscovered them, postage had gone up twice. But she’d insist they were still good—you just had to add a few more cents. It wasn’t about the practicality; it was about being prepared. Somehow, the sewing kit doubled as a backup mail station.
7. Tiny Notebooks Full of Mysterious Numbers
Inside many sewing kits lived a tiny notebook or scrap of paper with lists of phone numbers, grocery prices, or cryptic notes like “green one at 2.75.” Who was that about? No one knew. Maybe it was yarn, maybe it was green beans on sale, or maybe it was a reminder for a project that never got finished.
The pages were always creased, and the handwriting looked hurried. Occasionally, it had doodles or ink smudges from an old pen that bled. But it stayed in the sewing kit like a sacred scroll. She never looked at it, but she couldn’t toss it. You could feel the weight of a thousand forgotten errands in every line.
8. Batteries That Might Still Work (Probably Not)
A couple of AA or AAA batteries were almost always tossed in the sewing kit with no explanation. Usually they were loose and lightly corroded, rolling around with the spools and buttons. She didn’t want to waste them, so she saved them “just in case one more use was left.” And somehow, this became the battery drawer… disguised as a sewing kit.
If the remote died or the flashlight flickered, she’d dig through the kit and come out triumphantly with two mismatched batteries. Sometimes they worked. Sometimes they didn’t. But the effort was what counted—and she wasn’t about to waste a perfectly good maybe-battery.
9. Dried-Out Rubber Bands
There were always a few sad, brittle rubber bands clinging to life in the corner of the sewing kit. At one point, they had a job: holding something important together, probably a bag of rice or a deck of cards. But now they were just cracked, flaking little reminders that nothing lasts forever—not even stretchy things.
She wouldn’t throw them away though. One day, one of them might bounce back to life. Or at least that’s what she told herself. In the meantime, they just sat there quietly aging, nestled next to thread you never used and fabric scraps from projects she swore she’d finish.
10. Keys That Didn’t Belong to Anything
Old, mysterious keys were like buried treasure. No one could remember what they unlocked, but tossing them felt wrong. What if it was the key to that old suitcase in the attic? Or the garage padlock from three houses ago? So into the sewing kit it went.
Sometimes she’d rattle the kit and you’d hear that clink—just enough to make you ask what it belonged to. She’d shrug and say, “I don’t know, but I’m not getting rid of it.” There was a sense of legacy to those little metal question marks. Like part of family history had been locked away, waiting to be remembered.
11. Stray Earring Backs
Earring backs—usually those tiny, impossible-to-hold rubber or metal ones—were almost guaranteed to be in there. Never the actual earring, of course, just the back. They’d float around like lost confetti, sticking to thread and hiding in the corners. But they stayed, because someday they might save the day.
Moms had a sixth sense for knowing when something might be useful. Even if the matching earring was long gone, she kept the back. “They’re good to have,” she’d say. And you’d have to agree, because one day when you were late for a party, the sewing kit saved you.
12. A Matchbook from a Restaurant That Closed in the ’80s
There was almost always a matchbook, usually from a local restaurant or hotel that didn’t even exist anymore. Half the matches were used, and the rest were bent. Why was it in the sewing kit? “For candles,” she’d say, even though she hadn’t lit a candle in months.
It was part souvenir, part survival kit. Maybe it had sentimental value, or maybe it was just convenient to stash it there and forget about it. But it gave the sewing kit an extra layer of personality. A little flash of the past hidden among the needles and loose thread.