Beeswax used to be the gold standard in thread conditioning, both for seamstresses and for beaders like me. Just a few years ago, you could buy an ounce of beeswax (at least a year's supply) in any craft store for about $1.75 -- a simple, natural substance that keeps thread from tangling, makes it easier to hold onto, and stiffens it so you can handle intricate beadweaving constructions more easily.
But then somebody started marketing a slimy, gel-like substance called Thread Heaven, and beeswax has all but disappeared.
Thread Heaven reduces tangling, yes -- but in every other way, it works to the detriment of the kind of beading I do. Miserable stuff!
Fabric shops carry something that's billed as beeswax, a yellowish wafer in a plastic holder -- but it's oily and slick, not at all like the real thing. Can't abide it.
So today, when I realized my trusty little lump of beeswax was missing, I panicked. I know I can order beeswax online from at least one major bead supply place where they still recognize its value -- but that would take days, and I feel the need... the need to bead!
Inspiration finally struck, and I checked in the candlemaking department of a big craft store. Sure enough, they did have good old-fashioned natural beeswax -- just the thing I was looking for. Except they had it only by the pound! A great big slab of it -- the mother of all beeswax, the beeswax that ate Dallas, the Last. Beeswax. I'll Ever. Need.
And I bought it, by golly. Fifteen bucks and this monster hunk of beeswax was mine forever -- which is about how long it'll take me to use it all up.
But wait... maybe there's a career in this for me! I'm perfectly positioned to become the sole source of beeswax for beaders throughout the tri-county area! Heck, I've already got six months' worth of inventory!
I can hear the news report now: "A local woman was taken into custody today on charges of dealing beeswax. A search of her home uncovered an excessive amount of raw, uncut beeswax, a single-edged razor blade, and 100 tiny plastic baggies. A police spokesperson told reporters, 'Nobody needs that much beeswax for personal use. It's clearly possession with intent to distribute...'"
But then somebody started marketing a slimy, gel-like substance called Thread Heaven, and beeswax has all but disappeared.
Fabric shops carry something that's billed as beeswax, a yellowish wafer in a plastic holder -- but it's oily and slick, not at all like the real thing. Can't abide it.
So today, when I realized my trusty little lump of beeswax was missing, I panicked. I know I can order beeswax online from at least one major bead supply place where they still recognize its value -- but that would take days, and I feel the need... the need to bead!
Inspiration finally struck, and I checked in the candlemaking department of a big craft store. Sure enough, they did have good old-fashioned natural beeswax -- just the thing I was looking for. Except they had it only by the pound! A great big slab of it -- the mother of all beeswax, the beeswax that ate Dallas, the Last. Beeswax. I'll Ever. Need.
And I bought it, by golly. Fifteen bucks and this monster hunk of beeswax was mine forever -- which is about how long it'll take me to use it all up.
But wait... maybe there's a career in this for me! I'm perfectly positioned to become the sole source of beeswax for beaders throughout the tri-county area! Heck, I've already got six months' worth of inventory!
I can hear the news report now: "A local woman was taken into custody today on charges of dealing beeswax. A search of her home uncovered an excessive amount of raw, uncut beeswax, a single-edged razor blade, and 100 tiny plastic baggies. A police spokesperson told reporters, 'Nobody needs that much beeswax for personal use. It's clearly possession with intent to distribute...'"
