Long time readers may know that my blog is usually lagging a week or two behind real life. And that's exactly how I like it, I hasten to add. As during my working week there often isn't much time to spare, I find it quite reassuring to have a backlog of subject matter - and outfits - to blog about.
So imagine my dismay when I found myself all caught up last week!
What with December's ill-health and wet weather, we hadn't been on any adventures to speak of for the better part of two weeks. I can only be thankful that in spite of the less than ideal circumstances, we'd made the effort to photograph my outfits on most days during the Christmas holidays, as otherwise I might have been obliged to take a blogging break!
By now, I've caught up with these too, so here's what I was wearing just one week ago, on Saturday the 7th of January
The fuchsia blouse with its multi-coloured stripey pattern - my mind boggles trying to describe it more aptly - is from the defunct Belgian label Who's That Girl, picked up from an Antwerp outlet shop back in November. For its first outing, there was no doubt that I'd wear it with green, so I selected this lightweight forest green pleated skirt from my wardrobe. Like the blouse, it was bought brand new, a bargainous find between Lockdowns during the pandemic.
At my waist, yet another retail buy - naughty, naughty - snapped up for a song at a CKS pop-up outlet on the Meir, Antwerp's main shopping thoroughfare, last October. Both my ring and my boots are wardrobe stalwarts originating from the high street too!
Nothing vintage whatsoever, but at least the rest of my outfit consisted of second hand finds: both the fuzzy yellow cardigan and the necklace were charity shopped, while the brooch was a flea market find.
We'd woken up to dry weather for once and while we were having breakfast we even got a couple of glimpses of that strange phenomenon they call the sun.
I wasted no time in photographing Friday's charity shop finds, starting with a polo neck dress by Who's That Girl's sister label Wow To Go. I was instantly smitten with its groovilicious yellow and navy dotted pattern.
In spite of having an overflowing coats wardrobe, I can't help but peruse the aisles for those standing out among the usual yawn inducing ones. My eye was caught by the grey and tan Prince of Wales type checks of this fur collared beauty, which I was excited to see was Made in Belgium. It needed the addition of a snap at the collar to keep it from gaping at the top, which was a quick fix. Then I spotted the fur hook and eye hidden in the collar itself, offering an alternative for those really cold days ...
Friday's final purchases were a pair of fuchsia tights for € 0,50, a snip considering they retailed at € 10,95, and a rose patterned locket on a chain.
As a reward for her faithful clothes modelling services, I decided to treat Angelica - who was named after my paternal great-grandmother - to a new outfit. She seems to approve of the groovy brown hued wool-blend dress she is now wearing. Perhaps I should follow her example and do the same as for some reason it has been languishing unworn in my wardrobe for a long time.
Oh, and there's me in the mirror, and somewhere on top of the cupboard behind Angelica is a photo of her namesake taken just before the First World War. Here she is with her husband and two of her children. The little girl is my paternal grandmother, Leontine, who was born in 1910.
I layered an off-white faux fur gilet over Angelica's dress, pinned a teal flower corsage to the latter, and handed her a lacquered rattan handbag with a blue pleated scarf tied to its strap. Now she was ready to go!
I'm sure you won't be surprised that our bedroom, like the rest of Dove Cottage's rooms, is full of thrifted treasures.
We found the chandelier after a long search on New Year's Eve many years ago.
The blue vanity set (bottom right) and green Art-Deco brush and tray (bottom left) are UK holiday souvenirs, while the compact and card of kirby grips were flea market finds.
The Art-Deco lady with her gorgeous green dress and pet birds has been residing in front of the mirror on our mantelpiece for nearly twenty years, and she is one of my favourite finds ever.
Finally, here are some glimpses into my cluttered wardrobe where dresses and handbags are jostling for space, and a peek at my party dishes of chunky rings.
Talking of clutter, surely this is what the word was invented for ...
This is our hallway reflected in the full-length mirror near the front door. Lovers of minimalist interiors, please do look away!
The rest of the morning was spent dismantling the Christmas tree.
I don't know about where you are, but it's a tradition in Belgium to leave it up until the 6th of January, which we call Three Kings Day, and which celebrates the arrival of the Three Wise Men. As it was already the 7th by now, its days were definitely numbered. Bess wasn't too pleased to see her favourite plaything go, though!
Although the sun was still out in full force by lunch time, the weather forecast had promised more rain in the afternoon. Yay!
But whatever the weather, going for a walk wouldn't have been on the menu anyway, as we were invited by Jos's son and daughter-in-law for a little family get-together.
Still no rain as we were parked outside their front door, which we took as the perfect opportunity to show off my new-to-me coat! I nearly forgot to mention its deep pockets to shove one's hands into!
The main purpose of the family get-together was grandson Cas's Nieuwjaarbrief (New Year's letter).
Flemish children are expected to write a letter with New Year’s wishes for their parents, godparents and grandparents, which is then read out loud in front of everyone.
The tradition originated in the 16th century and was at first limited to the upper classes, who had access to education. At that time the letter was usually written in Latin and in verse. Since the mid-20th century, the custom has spread and is now an essential part of local culture. Despite its Catholic origins, it has been adopted by everyone and currently has no religious meaning.
Today, children start "writing" a New Year's letter in their first year of nursery school, when they are about 3 years old. The text is pre-printed and learned by heart in the classroom, rather than actually written and read. This obviously only starts when they have learned to read and write in primary school. The tradition is kept until they move to secondary school, when they are around 12-13 years of age.
Cas, of course, being only 19 months old, is still way too young to read or even memorize a letter. But no fear, he read it together with his mum, with Cas supplying the odd word, among them one of his favourites: tractor! And no, I haven't got a clue why a tractor would be part of one's new year's wishes.
His reward was the sound puzzle we found for him in a charity shop back in November, and which he loved to bits. Our reward was a choice of mouthwateringly delicious cakes!
True to form it started raining mid-afternoon and it was still chucking it down when we went home around 17.30.
For Sunday, a mixture of sunny spells and showers had been forecasted. Would it be dry for long enough to finally go on that longed-for walk? You'll find out in my next post!
