A stitch in time

The dust has settled and life at the office has gone back to normal. Nevertheless, my blog is still a week or two behind real life so that, while the calendar tells me it's January 23, I've still got to tell you about what I've been up to in the week and weekend before last.

Not that I've been up to very much at all, mind you. At this particularly uneventful time of year, the days and weeks seem to hurtle by even faster than usual, in hindsight making it almost impossible to distinguish one from the other.

But there have been a couple of bright sparks throughout, even if they were mainly provided by what I've been wearing.

A promise is a promise, so I'll start with that burnt orange velvety skirt last seen wearing by Angelica. Finally, that week, it was my turn!

There's something quintessentially 1970s about orange and brown, which people are forever associating with that decade. In later times, the colour combination was jokingly referred to in a what-were-they-thinking kind of way, but fashion designers back then definitely must have known what they were doing, as I for one think orange and brown is a great and timeless look!

So, in honour of the decade in which I did most of my growing up, I plucked this brown floral vintage blouse from my wardrobe and introduced it to the skirt which, rather than being vintage, is from a modern-day brand called American Outfitters. Never heard of them? I can't blame you, as in spite of its name, it's a Belgian label founded in the late 1990s.

I'm sure you must have recognized the teal King Louie cardigan, the woven belt and the beads, as they're all regulars on the blog, all of them charity shop or flea market finds. The brooch was a flea market find as well, bought from the famous Brooch Lady in February 2017. 

The week had been a particularly grey and wet one, the days dark and dreary, making my eyelids droop by mid-afternoon and filling my head with cotton wool.

On Fridays my office closes early, so that there was still a smidgen of daylight about when I was on my way home. The sun had finally managed to chase away the eternal rainclouds, only to start setting soon afterwards, back-lighting the clouds with the last of her orange glow.

The latest Think Twice sales had been in full swing that week but pickings had been rather slim until at the end of the week I stumbled upon this exquisite white raffia handbag. I keep telling myself I should stop buying more handbags, but there was no way I could resist taking this beauty home for only € 4.

I paid the same price for a green speckled polyester dress, which unfortunately had lost some of its buttons. No big deal, as I didn't like them much anyway, so I scoured my stash of vintage buttons, hitting upon these perfect, and far nicer, replacements.

I already wore the dress to work last week, but as things were a bit hectic no outfit photos were made, which I'll have to remedy by wearing it again soon.

While I had my sewing basket out on Saturday morning, I decided to strike the iron while it was hot and finally tackle the partially detached side zip of a dress I bought in the Think Twice sales several months ago. 

Upon closely examining the dress, I noticed several split seams had been repaired by its previous owner using what looked like black darning yarn. To make matters worse, some of these so-called repairs had been done on the outside of the dress, so that there was nothing for it but to remove them all and re-do them using the appropriate sewing thread.

I may be far from a natural at sewing but even with my limited skills I managed to do better. Some people!

Here is the dress in question, which admittedly I only wore for these photos. I'd planned to wear it for work in the week ahead but I totally forgot, so it is still patiently waiting its turn.

The starburst brooch and the snakeskin belt were both flea market finds, while the ring came from a market stall in Bruges. 

Now this is what I really wore that Saturday for another rummage at the charity shops.

I love pleated skirts and dresses, and have several of them inhabiting my wardrobe. Among them, this vintage frock with a print of tiny squares in blue, pink, red, lilac and turquoise and a row of squarish red buttons at the bodice.

I added a wide red woven belt and turquoise beads and pinned a red posy brooch to my turquoise cardigan. Again, most of my outfit is vintage or second hand, except for the tights and the ankle boots. The latter is an old but favourite pair, which has been to the cobbler's a couple of times during its lifetime.

Here, and in the above collage, you can see how wide the dress's skirt actually is. Perfect for twirling or doing a little jig, but not so perfect for that day's weather. There was a fierce and chilly wind blowing so that I had to keep clutching my skirt while on our way to our garage and in-between shops. And why, oh why, did I have to wear this gorgeous but inadequately thin fur collared jacket?

I could tell you all about the fluffy pink scarf I was wearing or the pink and white knitted beret, but I'm sure you wouldn't have been listening, having your eyes fixed firmly on my handbag!

Isn't it fabulous? OK, I have been very, very bad, as I bought it new in the sales at Mango. Also, two handbags in one week, in spite of my self-imposed handbag ban! 

Enough said, let's go charity shopping instead.

Back in the 1970s, brown and orange didn't just rule the catwalks. It was omnipresent and I'm sure that every self-respecting home had its fair share of these colours in its furnishings and homewares.

We snapped up this plastic bread basket from the German Emsa brand in our local charity shop for € 1,50 that day. Made to resemble wood and decorated with a rim of orange and yellow flowers, we already have several items from the same range, including a spice rack, a coffee filter holder and an egg-timer. 

Oh, and we've got egg cups and a jam pot as well! The big brown flower decorated melamine tray isn't Emsa, but vintage St. Michaels, found at a retro event back in October 2017.

We went to another shop a bit further afield that day as well. Rummaging their well-stocked clothing department, I initially thought I'd hit the jackpot upon spotting a whole colour range of apparently deadstock berets. Unfortunately they were all the same size and too big for me, although I am now regretting leaving them behind as they were only € 1 each.

As it is, I only bought this red knitted hat - also deadstock, with a still pristine C&A label - as well as a long and super soft multi coloured scarf.

My final find of the day was this rather gorgeous cardigan in a navy honeycomb pattern on pink by Belgian brand Lucy Has A Secret. As it would have originally retailed at a silly price (at a guess, I'd say upwards of € 80), surely € 4 was a bit of a bargain. 

So, that's it for now. I'll be continuing with my catch-up in my next post. 

In the meantime, have a fabulous weekend, my friends!

Linking to Nancy's Fancy Friday linkup this week. Do go and check out this lovely girl!

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.

Tickled pink

Time moves on relentlessly, each day a page torn off the new year's calendar, at this time of year still promising endless possibilities.

But before we plunge headlong into the new year, I am setting the time machine one more time for last month.

It was on Boxing Day that the sun finally made a timid appearance and as we had been cooped up inside for long enough, a bracing walk was what we needed.

Our destination was one of our favourite parks in Antwerp, Middelheim, which is a less than fifteen minute drive from our home.

It was just our luck that once we'd got out of our car, the sun had disappeared behind some nasty looking clouds, and a cold wind was blowing when we crossed the open space leading up to the main part of the park.

Things warmed up considerably once we were under the shelter of the trees, helped by the occasional appearance of the sun, who was trying her very best to keep one step ahead of the persistant clouds.

My outfit of the day was a long sleeved black, floral patterned dress, with a full skirt and a cowl neck, which of course isn't visible here. I wore it with a green cardigan, the sleeves of which are just peeping out from under my jacket's sleeves, green tights and black boots.

You can have a better look at the dress here.

My green fur-collared jacket, warm yellow chunky knit scarf and red beret were keeping me warm and toasty.

Oh, and a pair of fingerless gloves, necessary for taking photographs!

If you've been following my blog for a while, you might remember our previous visits to this open air museum with its eclectic collection of sculptures.

This really is a park for all seasons, although some of the sculptures were covered up or even removed to protect them from harsh winter conditions.

In this empty space, the artwork hasn't been removed at all. Here, the visitor is encouraged to become an artwork for the duration of one minute. Or long enough to strike some silly poses and make some photographs!

Although we took a different route than usual, the Braem Pavilion pulled us in like a magnet, the low, curvy, white building appearing like a mirage through the trees.

The pavilion usually hosts an exhibition of some sort and this time was no exception.

The current exhibition, called Recall Sculpture, shows a collection of sculptures on loan from the Royal Museum of Fine Arts Antwerp (KMSKA), and as they were originally purchased at one of the biennial exhibitions organised by the Middelheim Museum from 1951 until 1989, they have, in a way, come home!

Clockwise from top right: Door (1975), by Erzebet Schaar (bronze), Rain (1957), by Mark Macken (bronze), Saturne (1962) by Julio Gero (iron) and Omaggio al Cosmonauta Nr. 2 (1962) by Arnaldo Pomodoro (bronze).

Fausto Melotti, The Dance, 1973 (gilded brass and plexi)

Apart from a few exceptions, the majority of the pieces on show were table top sculptures which were presented on raised platforms.

I grabbed a brochure, so that I could identify the pieces later, but unfortunately it only showed the placement of the sculptures with a list of numbers, making the artwork difficult to identify later and requiring a fair amount of guessing and googling for this post.

I loved the backdrop of floor length dusky pink gauzy curtains, which really offset the sculptures, bathing them in a warm glow.

Clockwise from top left: me looking at Peace (1952) by Mark Macken (bronze), detail of The Big Dancer (1951-53) by Marino Marini (bronze), Standing Girl (1949) by Charles Leplae (terracotta) and detail of top left.

The works all date from the 1950s to the 1970s, a period during which artists broke free from the oppressive straitjacket of the war years, resulting in a wide variety of materials and themes, which was in sharp contrast with the government restraints on art during wartime.

Emerging from the warmth of the pavilion, we continued our walk, crossing Ai Weiwei's Bridge Without a Name.

The museum's café inside the park's castle was beckoning with hot drinks, in my case a delicious hot chocolate topped with whipped cream!

Dusk was falling rapidly, the gloaming providing an eerie shadowplay of silhouetted artwork, bare-limbed trees and fluffy white Clematis seed heads.

Refreshed in both body and soul, we made our exit the way we started, through the Artist's Entrance (created by Dutch artist John Körmeling), proclaiming some of the resident artists' names in lights.

Linking to Patti's Visible Monday at Not Dead Yet Style for the first time this year!