The light in August

I can barely get my head around the fact that this time next week we'll be on our yearly sojourn to Belgium's west country. There's still quite a few things to wrap up at work, for starters. And then there's my favourite pastime of packing to be done.

I'm starting to feel a bit faint when I'm thinking about the latter, so let's not get into that yet ... now where did I put those smelling salts?

I left you with a bit of a cliffhanger in my last post, so I'm making a brief return to Friday before last and show you those charity shop finds as promised.

In spite of shopping still being a solo activity (this will be changed again as from tomorrow!), we sneaked in together by taking separate trolleys and secretly meeting in the aisles! Naughty, naughty!

Then Jos grabbed a coffee at the cafeteria, while I browsed the well-stocked clothing department. With the heatwave on its last legs, but warmish weather still on the cards for the next week or so, I kept my eyes peeled for easy, breezy Summer tops.

I almost did a double take when I spotted the pink twin of my favourite green peasant style top, bought in the New Look sales two years ago. It goes without saying it couldn't make its way into my trolley fast enough. 

These two stretchy cap-sleeved pussy bow tops are of the wash 'n go variety and will be the perfect companions for a multitude of skirts. They are also very suitcase proof, as they can be rolled up and tucked away without the least bit of creasing. 

As always, I made a beeline for the rail of dresses, but in spite of being spoilt for choice, nothing I fancied was in my size. Until I pulled out this one for closer inspection! 

In 100% silk, it's from Essentiel Antwerp (look, Sheila!), whose flagship store is opposite the spot where Jos is picking me up after work on my office days. Their dresses start at € 195, so I think the € 13,50 I paid for it was money well spent. I'll have you know that this is expensive for this particular chain of charity shops, so somebody has clearly done their homework!

The background colour was very hard to photograph, as it is leaning more towards green in real life.

Our only non-clothing purchase was this reproduction Tala icing set. It was displayed on a shelf of tins and priced similarly as the empty ones (€ 1,30), so I'm guessing that this time somebody hasn't been doing their job properly and never thought of opening it. Admittedly, there was hardly any weight to it, plus the icing syringe and nozzles fit so snuggly into the packing that no movement could be detected at all.

A collection within our collection of kitchenalia, we already own several proper vintage Tala icing sets, including this one, which the reproduction set must have been based upon.

I'm swiftly skipping to Saturday before last now. 

With the temperature hovering around the mid-twenties, it was still more than warm enough to warrant the wearing of more of those lightweight Summer clothes.

The black cotton button-through skirt with its white daisy print and triple layer of rick-rack is vintage 1970s and from the Merry Finn label.  The blue based, multi-coloured pussy bow blouse, on the other hand, is a modern King Louie piece by way of the charity shops. 

As a nod to the skirt, I accessorized with a black and white beaded necklace and black-rimmed flower brooch. Tying in with the turquoise bits in the blouse, I added a turquoise textured belt at my waist.

Everything but the tan espadrille wedges - a sales bargain last Summer - was acquired second hand.

I planted up the pansies we'd brought home from the garden centre, one of which I gave a home in a leaky enamel coffee pot recently vacated by a Lobelia which hadn't survived the heatwave. 

Yellow Rudbeckia mingles happily with purple Verbena, while annuals such as candy striped Petunia, creamy yellow-hearted Lantana and Fuchsia are still blooming their hearts out.

A dome of perfect blue Summer sky watched over it all, dotted with the odd wispy cloud. It's August, that often bittersweet month, undeniably on the cusp of two seasons. 

For some inexplicable reason, this photo is making me both happy and sad in the same breath.

There's nothing like the sky in August and the languidness of her days, yet:

"Whilst August yet wears her golden crown,

    Ripening fields lush-bright with promise;

Summer waxes long, then wanes, quietly passing

    Her fading green glory on to riotous Autumn."

-  Michelle L. Thieme, August's Crown 

Now that it was starting to cool down inside the house, it was time for some long overdue housework.

My journal tells me that on Sunday, while Jos vacuumed and mopped the rooms downstairs, I dusted our bedroom and the landing. Then, before the mood escaped me, I cleaned the bathroom surfaces and part of the kitchen's. 

There was a storm brewing, so before all hell was let loose, we went outside for outfit photos.

You'll immediately recognize the top, which I'd plucked from the ironing pile where it had ended up after washing, so great was my desire to wear it. The skirt was another recent charity shop find, which I wore on the blog not all that long ago. Cool in double 100% cotton!

Both the pink, yellow and white woven belt and the wooden beaded necklace were old charity shop finds. Even the peep-toe slingbacks I'm wearing were charity shopped. They're Clarks and they were waiting for me in Bridgnorth in June 2019.

The storm finally arrived late afternoon with enough rain to forgo my watering duties that evening.

Nothing to report about Monday's moderately busy office day, so I'm skipping that and hopping over to Tuesday.

The vintage Shelton Stroller dress I was wearing never fails to make an appearance each Summer, so I was rather surprised it was still hanging unworn in my wardrobe this year.

With its fit and flare silhouette, wide, drapey tie collar and smooth satiny fabric in an abstract red, blue and black print on a white background, this late 1950s, early 1960s dress is a joy to wear.

I tamed its tie by pinning it with a Miracle brooch and accentuated the waist by adding a red vinyl belt.

I used plenty of red for the rest of my accessories as well, including a red plastic ring and red and white beaded necklace. A white and blue polka dot bangle kept my red one company.

We went on a veritable charity shop sprawl later that week and finds were plentiful, so I'm afraid I'll have to leave you with another cliffhanger.

Until then, do stay safe, sane and as fabulous as possible!

Back to the old house

This post has been living in my head for more than two years now. In fact, I had my first stab at writing it shortly after my Dad passed away, back in August 2016, knowing that sooner or later the time would come that I'd have to publish it. I deleted what I'd written and started from scratch several times over. For months at a time, I didn't want to look it in the eye, while all the time knowing that it was there, somewhere in the depths of my drafts folder.

The thing is, how exactly does one write about saying goodbye to the place which keeps so many memories within its walls: my childhood home? The house which has been woven into the tapestry of my childhood and adolescence, its very layout leaving a permanent imprint on my impressionable mind.

I did most of my growing up there. I ate, slept and played there. Spent hours curled up on the sofa with a book. Wasted  hours daydreaming in my bedroom. Where I hung posters of punk bands on the walls of my room when I was not-so-sweet sixteen and the future an unknown entity that both scared and excited me.

This is the place I was homesick for when I went abroad on a school trip for the first time. A safe haven to return to. Somewhere I could shed my chronic shyness and insecurity.

If you listen carefully, your ear pressed to its walls, my old bedroom still echoes with the music I listened to when I was a troubled teenager. There's still heartbreak lingering in the air from when I split up with my first boyfriend.

How does one write about all this indeed? I still haven't got a clue but the story begs to told.

Tomorrow, the house will no longer belong to us. We have closed its door for the very last time, and our memories will be the ghosts that haunt it.

As far as houses go, the old house isn't really that old. In fact, it is younger than me. My parents built it in the early 1960s, my Dad and grandfather doing most of the work single-handedly, and we - my Mum and Dad and a not quite 3-year-old me - moved into it in July 1964

It was one of the first houses to be built in a brand new street on a brand new estate where not all that long before there had been fields, meadows and the orchard our street was named after.

Whereas most of the estate's houses were fairly traditional, my parents clearly embraced the modernity of the late 1950s/early 1960s.  Our house was the only one with floor to ceiling windows at both ends of the living room. At the front, the windows were off-centre, with panels of pebble dash separating the downstairs and the upstairs windows, with a large expanse of red brick wall to their left.

There was a pebble dash awning above the front door which, being a semi-detached house, was at the side rather than at the front, and more pebble dash panels appeared in the wall next to it, which was interrupted by the odd glass brick. This is where our downstairs loo was.

Upon entering the front door, the first thing that struck you were the black and white tiled hall and immediately to the left, the stairs leading to the first floor. These were another tribute to the era, consisiting of white faux marble slabs which were cleverly built into the outside wall on one side.

The whole staircase seemed to float in mid air although, on the unsupported side, safety was provided by black iron rods in varying lengths, which acted as a banister.

Straight on was our living room, with a sitting area at the front and a dining area at the back near the kitchen.

The room had nice black and white marbled tiles, which would later, when I was in my early teens, be replaced by vile green-ish fitted carpet, which seemed the height of luxury at the time.

A suspended ceiling made from tongue and groove pine, with built-in spotlights, was added in the late 1960s, and my Dad designed some shelving for our growing collection of books, incorporating a state of the art pull-out shelf for our television.

Central heating was quite a new concept for my parents, but they even went one step further, as instead of regular radiators, our living room had heating elements sunk into the floor and covered with cast iron grilles, beneath each of the windows.

These grilles were to become the bane of our lives, as they gobbled up small things - think Barbie shoes, marbles, jigsaw pieces and Lego bricks. Luckily, the grilles could be removed, and my dad invented a clever piece of equipment for retrieving lost treasure which had ended up under the heating elements.

The living room's other outstanding feature was a large grey brick chimney breast. Allegedly these bricks were salvaged from an old barn which had been demolished near my grandparents' house. The chimney breast had a slightly protruding fireplace built from smooth, off-white stone, with an identical wood storage compartment next to it.  My favourite feature was the small panel of abstract tiles, providing a subtle element of colour in the sea of grey brick.

For the first few months after moving in, I shared my parents' bedroom, until my own bedroom next door was finally finished.

I still have fond memories of the wallpaper on the wall next to my bed, which featured kittens playing with balls of wool among houses of cards. This remained in place until in the early 1970s I insisted on having orange wallpaper. I really was a child of my time!

My father, who was a joiner, designed and made the huge built-in cupboard in my room, which incorporated a night table, a spacious wardrobe, book shelves and plenty of storage space for toys.

Understandably proud of his achievement, my Dad insisted that I posed for a photograph, while sitting on my bed. As I was happily playing in the garden at the time, I wasn't too pleased at having my game interrupted. Hence the tear stained, thundercloud face!

Our back garden had some shrubs and trees at its tapered end.

Initially, it had a swing dangling from a sturdy branch of a tree, which would later be replaced by a proper swing set, containing one single swing. Immediately in front of it was a circular sandpit, where I built sandcastles and made mud-pies. I loved messing about with the fine sand, which ultimately led to the demise of my curls.

The house itself has long ceased to be my home, as I left it for good in 1980. I didn't go home much in the first few years after I left, and it is strange to think that life at home just went on without me. My siblings, who are much younger than me, were only 9 and 11 going on twelve when I left home and, looking at photographs and film footage (my Dad had switched to a Super 8 camera at some point), it now strikes me that for most of their adolescent years, they were part of a family unit of four, with me the absent ghost sister.

After I left home, the house was redecorated several times, a new kitchen and bathroom were installed and new furniture appeared, so that it in the end, it didn't feel much like the house I grew up in anymore.

It took all those months of clearing the house, stripping it back to its bare bones, so to speak,  to rediscover and appreciate it and the countless, often poignant, memories it holds.

There's a whole Pandora's box full of them, which will forever haunt me in my dreams, from which I will wake up with tears in my eyes and a song playing over and over again in the background:

I would love to go

Back to the old house

But I never will

I never will

I never will

~The Smiths, Back to the Old House

Playing dress up

Disenchanted with Think Twice's offerings in the last couple of months, I hadn't made any purchases in any of their three Antwerp shops. Plus, I'd missed their previous sales days, which usually yield a few treasures, as they took place end of last year, just when I was enjoying my Christmas break.

In spite of having paid regular visits to the shops since returning to work in January, nothing really took my fancy, their stock being predominantly 1980s and later.

Scanning the rails, my eyes usually pick out any items worth exploring from a distance. Once in while, my heart started beating faster when I clocked a fabulous 1960s or 1970s print, only to be disappointed when said item turned out not to be even remotely my size.

So, when their sales email dropped into my inbox a couple of weeks ago, I patiently waited until prices were down to € 5, giving the shops a wide berth on the -30% and -50% days.

I'm happy to say that my patience has paid off, as I was able to buy both the delightful checked jacket and the colourful pleated skirt I'm wearing here for € 5 each! That's what I call a bargain!

The skirt is lined, and as it doesn't have a label, I presume it was handmade. With so many colours represented in the print, there's a wide range of tops for me to choose from. 

I hadn't worn this vintage blouse for a while, so it was high time it got an outing. I bought it at the sadly missed Blender Vintage Shop several years ago. I love its colour and print, as well as the rather unusual wide wing collar.  The burgundy beaded necklace, which you can just catch a glimpse of, came from the same shop.

Brooches on collar and jacket: various flea markets

Brooch on cardigan: Think Twice

Ring: retail

Belt: charity shop

Here's a closer look at the jacket. It's belted quite low on the hips and the belt loops are hidden under the pocket flaps. You'd expect these to be just flaps, but no: much to my delight they are actual pockets!

The great thing about Think Twice is that while the sales are in full swing, new items keep being added, right until the € 3 mark.

Someone explained to me once that the bags of clothing they receive at this point are considered second rate, but that's fine by me, as it's then that the most exciting pieces turn up. Who wants old tat from the 1960s and 1970s, eh? Well, me, obviously!

Here's the lovely Angelica modelling all the other things I grabbed for the bargainous price of € 4 and € 5.

I guess I don't have to tell you that the full maxi skirt with its fabulous print is Skandinavian. It is lined and quite heavy. Quite an eye-catcher, don't you agree?

Another maxi skirt, straight this time, and knitted in a cream and brown pattern.

The photos really don't do it justice. I'll have to do some outfit photos wearing it, so that you can have a better look.

This heavy wool skirt was Made in Germany and made me think of Beate. 

This was even harder to photograph, especially as it was quite a dark day. 

Strips of leather and folksy embroidered flowers are sewn in a chevron pattern near the hem and there are two elaborate fabric flowers with black sequinned hearts on the front.

I think it would go rather well with my red traditional German cardigan!

More flowers in this vibrantly coloured summery skirt. I can see quite a few possible companions among my Summer tops! 

Quite an unusual print for this 100% cotton lined dress, again made in Germany! I loved its chocolate brown-ness, the vibrant colours of the horsemen and the braided ribbon edge.

What I didn't like were the boring little buttons, which have been replaced by these in the meantime:

€ 4 surely was quite a steal for this gorgeous long-sleeved maxi, with its funky blue and white print, with the odd bit of yellow thrown in, and its solid blue wing collar.

On my way to the till, my arms full of stuff, I passed a rail of coats, when out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a flash of chartreuse and blue plaid. Bingo! This gem of a coat just screamed Swinging Sixties, Carnaby Street and yes, Twiggy! 

I didn't feel like queuing at the fitting rooms again (there are only two, and the queue as you can probably imagine very long) so I took a chance on it. Luckily, it fits, if only just. But hey, it's a Summer coat, and I'll probably wear it unbuttoned a lot of the time.

If I hadn't already been won over by its 1960s mod print and model, the label would have done so!

Here's what the Vintage Fashion Guild has to say:

"Lilli Ann was started in San Francisco in 1933 by Adolph Schuman, naming his company for his wife, Lillian. The company became known for their beautiful, elaborately designed suits and coats.

After WWII, Schuman went to France and it was during this time that the labels had “Paris” added to them. 

In the 1960s, there was a popular Lilli Ann Knits line, and a mod-inspired London line."

Not bad for € 4, I'd say! 

My last find was this grey shoulder bag, made from the softest of leathers, and decorated with what looks like a small tie. And look: not made in China, but in Canada! What do you think of that, Sheila and Suzanne?

Doesn't Angelica look elegant in her burgundy and grey outfit? I like to play dress up with her, and this is what she is currently wearing!

Do you have a dressmaker's dummy, and do you dress her up as well?

Linking to Patti's Visible Monday at Not Dead Yet Style as usual.

All dolled up

Once upon a time, when I was a right little madam little girl growing up in the late 1960s, I badly wanted a Barbie doll. 

In fact, I guess it was not so much the doll I wanted, but her fabulous wardrobe!

Several of my girlfriends had Barbie dolls and some had Ken too, as well as Barbie's little sister, Skipper. 

The really lucky ones had vinyl carry-cases, which had space for a doll as well as a rail for  the doll's clothes.

I think it's fair to say that the green eyed monster had me firmly in its grip!

I begged and begged my Mum to buy me a Barbie doll, but she wouldn’t budge. She said Barbie had an ugly face, but I suspect it was the fact that Barbie wasn't exactly flat chested which was bothering her ...

In 1970, when I was nine years old, my Mum finally succumbed to my constant nagging and accompanied me to the village toy shop to choose a doll. 

In the end, I did not get Barbie, but Barbie’s friend P.J., who sported a fringe and two pigtails tied with beads. A true child of her time!

In the above photo you can see the boxed P.J. doll, which I bought a couple of years ago. The one I had as a girl was non-talking but otherwise looked the same, except for a different outfit (see below).

I tried pulling the string at the back of her neck (just reachable through a hole in the back of the box), which should get her talking, but I guess the years have taken their toll as she is mute.

Here's the doll I got (not my photos), so that you can see the outfit she was wearing: a hot pink bathing suit with a lacy skirt and an orange vinyl belt.

Isn't her eye make-up gorgeous? And note that she has real eyelashes too!

With the doll came a booklet showing the latest fashions, which I pored over religiously and knew by heart. In fact, when I came across this very booklet when I started collecting over thirty years later, I recognized all the dolls posing in their different outfits as if I’d only seen them yesterday.

Ok, so now I had a doll, but it wasn’t much fun without clothes. My grandmother, who was nifty with a needle, made her some dresses, but they were all of the same basic and frankly speaking boring model. Very creative, she wasn’t. Needless to say, P.J. looked a right frump in them. 

So, the nagging began again, this time for a real Mattel-made outfit.  My Mum, knowing from experience that I wouldn’t let it go, actually allowed me to go to the toy shop on my own. 

In my mind's eye, I can still see the shelves lined with exercise books and paint boxes - the shop doubled as a stationary shop - and smell the lingering scent of crayons. If I close my eyes, the scene is played out in front of me: there I am, not yet ten years of age, tiptoeing up to the counter at the very end of the shop and timidly making my request, and the candy-striped boxes brought out by the shop’s owner for me to choose from.

After much deliberation, I chose an outfit called “Dreamy Blues”, which is the gauzy ruffled dress you can see P.J. modelling here.

On a side-note, this is not the actual doll I had as a child, nor the dress, which first got passed to my little sister and then to the girl next door, but not before poor P.J. had had her hair bobbed.

I was lucky enough to find the doll on Ebay for next to nothing when I first started collecting.

For Christmas, my grandmother, who I guess was getting tired of sewing doll outfits, bought me another set of clothes, called "The ZigZag Bag", consisting of a pair of bell bottoms, a shirt with a wild zig zag print and a red sleeveless jumper.

Up until the early 1970s, all the outfits had names, and quite a lot of the late 1960s, early 1970s ones really sum up the era perfectly. 

What do you think of "Pajama Pow!" (1967), modelled here by Growin' Pretty Hair Barbie, who sported an updo hairstyle and had a retractable ponytail?

This one is from 1968 and called "Zokko!" (with exclamation mark!), and the doll modelling it is a Twist 'N Turn Barbie with the delightfully named hair colour "Chocolate Bon Bon".

One of my favourites is "Smasheroo" (1968), modelled here by Barbie's ginger haired friend Stacey, whose talking version spoke in a British accent!

Oh, and if you think of the colour pink when you hear the name Barbie, you’d be quite surprised to hear that pink did not feature all too prominently in Barbie’s Pre-1973 wardrobe.

Lemon yellow and silver lamé (lah-MAY, as Sheila would say!) were combined in this outfit called Silver Polish (1969).

The doll modelling it is another one of Barbie's friends, called Christie.

Another Christie, whose hair has oxidized to a funky red, is modelling this wild yellow jumpsuit, called "Caribbean Cruise" (1967), while a ginger haired Living Barbie (with movable hands) is wearing a tunic and bell bottoms called "Mood Matchers" (1970).

Here's Stacey again, a blonde version this time, wearing an orange sleeveless dress with a separate lacy top, called "Disco Dater" (1967).

I'm ending this post with Barbie's friend from 1972, called Walk Lively Steffie, who is wearing an outfit from 1973 called "Simply Summery". Look at those gorgeous purple shoes.

Whenever I walk past the display cabinet she is in, I somehow have to think of Vix, who I guess would love this gorgeous halterneck maxi!

The story of how I came to be collecting these dolls, featuring more gorgeous outfits dating from 1959 until the early 1970s (I literally have hundreds) will be for another post.