Isn't she lovely...

How elegant does this lady look?

I was lucky enough to be in one of my St Peters Hospice shops the other day (my shops.......I'm so lucky to be able to say that), and this very demure lady walked in. The epitome of old Hollywood glamour, I couldn't stop staring and I had to ask her for a photograph. Not only that, but I was soon to find out that she actually volunteers for us. How lucky are we. I think I am going to have to raise my game if I am to visit that shop when she's around. She agreed that people don't dress up as much as they should, I think that people forget that fashion should and can be so much fun. Why not make a silent statement about who you are, without even opening your mouth. 

My statement would say "I love Audrey Hepburn" or "Thank you Miss Carrie Bradshaw", both of them having played such a significant part in who I have become (my wardrobe 'self' anyway).  I have a library of books on Miss Hepburn. I adore her. Her style, attitude, her zest for life and also her charity work that became so important towards the end of her amazing life. As for the now Mrs Big, Carrie Bradshaw, she of the tutu and vest wearing fame shaped who I was in my early thirties. I have always loved fashion but she inspired me to challenge the norm and to not be afraid to go against the grain and have some fun. Fake fur coat and heels to a lunch? Why not. Tutu and cashmere cardigan for my first date with John? Hell yeah.  She transformed my love of fashion into actual memorable moments that I look back on very fondly. Some good and some bad but I can at least say that I truly played around with my identity through my clothes. I hope I will always continue in that vain, to never lose sight of that fun expressionist inside me. And now working in the charity shop sector myself, I am surrounded by inspirations every day. This wonderful lady being one of them. 

What would your silent statement be? 

Adornments...

I love accessories. 

They can help turn an otherwise nondescript outfit into something more playful and expressive. Something that says a little je ne sais quoi about you to the onlooking world. An unusual brooch, a statement bag, some bright leather gloves to add a splash of colour or even perhaps to suggest a little naughtiness...

Hats  and headwear I love in particular (although I don't wear them as much as I should, no one does sadly). I also love brooches, big old costume jewellery brooches, that scream Dallas and Dynasty. The more sparkle, the better. I am finding that I am morphing more into my Nan each day. 

Below are a few photos of my most recent purchases, all from St Peters Hospice  charity shops and not one piece over £4. 

Quite a few embellishments but all at amazing charity shop prices so the guilt factor is minimised. 

Nan would be proud. 

Vintage memories...

Hello fellow foragers, I hope you've had an amazing week. 

Mine has been a real mixture of emotions and situations. Second week in my new job and it already feels like I've been there for ages. A good sign me thinks. Things are slowly starting to slot into place and the million pieces of new information are finally taking root in my head. I was also lucky enough to see a very dear friend that was home on a rare trip from Australia. There were lots of smiles and tears as we talked over some incredible memories and shared new stories of how life is now. We first met almost 25 years ago when the only thing that seemed to matter was a Saturday night at Mr B's nightclub in sunny Weston-super-Mare. And thanks to meeting up again, all those filed away memories are now pouring back out, making me smile once more. For several years our little 'gang' held tight as we drank Mad Dog 20 20 (can you even buy that anymore?), we danced till dawn then reviewed the evenings shenanigans over the obligatory chicken burger and chips at the taxi rank. Great, great times.  It's fascinating how life changes so much over time. I always think your late teens are such a precious time. A time of new love (and of new love anxiety as you wait by the phone hoping he will call), a time of infinite possibilities as you merge into adulthood (sometimes unwillingly), trying to figure out who you are and who you want to be. Further studies? Baby plans? Career decisions? It's a time when so many new emotions and situations have to be addressed and massive life lessons are learnt. I would love to wave a magic wand and be transported back once more to one of those Saturday nights. I would certainly have a sharp word with myself over some of my then fashion choices......my androgynous suit and tie phase, my orange psychedelic see-through blouse  that my friend Kirsty aptly named the 'cat sick' blouse and then there's the hot pants. Or ice pants as my friend Ted used to call them. Not my finest moment. But I would just take it all in again, the laughter, the excitement, that feeling of friendships and of first loves. That feeling that for one night at least, nothing can ruin our moment, our time. That feeling like you could live forever. I am lucky to have such wonderful memories to call upon. 

Back to the here and completely hot pant free now, the picture above shows a couple of new editions to the behemoth that is my wardrobe. Cream soft leather cropped trousers and a cropped velvet jacket. Both second-hand of course and both loved very much already. The trousers were a real find. 

£16 from the incredible Ty Hafan Emporium in the Royal Arcade, Cardiff. I haven't yet done a blog 

post about this Aladdin's cave of all things vintage but it won't be long. I thought I'd died and goneto vintage heaven. It's a wonderful place if you like second-hand shopping in great surroundings. 

Being slightly challenged in the height department, cropped trousers are not usually my item of choice but these aren't too short and they are so comfortable. I thought that cream was also a really nice change. The jacket is vintage Alexon, not easy to see in the picture but the condition is perfect and I have worn it to death already and all for the princely sum of £4. 

So there you have it, a nice little pairing for tea down the pub. Again. 

I'm not quite sure what happened to Solo's eyes in this photo, very eerie especially as the picture was ironically taken on Halloween night. His evil side evidently coming out at the thought of us going out without him. We are such bad parents. 

Golden Oldie...

Now I know that this jacket isn't going to be everyone's cup of earl grey. I'm not even sure if it's my cup of tea either but there was something so very British about it that I just couldn't leave it behind.  And at £8 from the British Heart Foundation shop for a Jaeger classic, it seemed the right thing to do. It instantly conjured up visions of well to do equestrian sorts in their sexy jodhpurs brandishing a whip (can I say that??).

Anyway, not being of the 'horsey' set myself, in purchasing it, I have given myself something of a challenge and that is what to pair it with. Not only is it a slightly off-piste choice for me but it is also cropped. And for someone that lacks height but more than makes up for it in the chest department, cropped isn't usually a flattering choice. It must have been a fleeting moment of madness. Another one.  

Jeans, polo neck and  smart riding boots are an obvious everyday choice but I thought I'd have a play around with some other ideas and so I came up with the mood board below. 

I love the idea of a dark green velvet skirt.  You can't quite see it but the lapels are a dark green velvet not black so I think that would be a lovely pairing. Beautiful for a Sunday afternoon riding side saddle through the woods.  All I would need is a cascade of long red curls, an autumn haze as my backdrop and a handsome Mr Darcy clone to ride into sight.  I digress...

The same day I bought this jacket, I also treated myself to a bit of a rarity. Vogue magazine. I normally pass it by on the new stands, moaning to myself at the ridiculous cost of a glossy pamphlet of luxurious adverts (Anna Wintour is probably readying her army as we speak). I have bought a few copies in my time, don't get me wrong. I remember when I bought my little flat, I fell for that oh so pretentious idea of 'coffee table' books and magazines and I was only too proud (sadly) to display it as if it were the epicentre of the room. I love it in principle. The beauty and splendour of all the designer pieces I shall never own. The way that the women all look like rare china dolls without so much as a tiny imperfection. The way that fashion isn't just about clothing, it transcends Art. 

So this afternoon, I sat tea in hand, glossy pamphlet full of ads in the other. I read an article about Karl Lagerfeld,  I lusted after a couple (of hundred) pieces, tearing up at the small print prices and as nice a distraction as it was it got me to thinking about the differences between the way I shop (second-hand junkie) and the way that some of the true Vogue readers probably shop. One page displayed a velvet camisole beautifully, a mere snip at £485. And there are no doubt people out there that would pay that. I say again - £485. To me, that's a trip away, almost a car (our current little runabout was £650 after our wolf-mobile died suddenly), a new cooker.....the list goes on. So does it make it ok that the more you earn, the more you can and should spend? Of course I have no right to say how people should spend their money. No right at all. It just never ceases to amaze me when I flick through magazines like this, that those prices glare out as if it's the norm but then I suppose it is aimed at the rich and famous among us. I often say to John that if we ever won the lottery, I would 

still get just as much joy from rummaging around in charity shops and I don't think I would ever stop. 

I know it sounds silly but it's that excitement of never quite knowing what amazing finds you will come across. What totally individual pieces you will be lucky enough to gaze upon that no-one else is likely to have. 

And above all, every item donated to a charity shop holds a little bit of history.  A little bit of love or romance, a story - good or bad that is now able to help a bevy of worthwhile causes. 

 So what of my little jacket above? Well we will create a new story together. And if I ever do get in a pair of jodhpurs.......it may even be a Jilly Cooper-esque story. 

There's a naughty thought. 

To the Manor born...

Just a quick post today....

I am hiding from my kitchen builder duties. Between us there is so much dust, you would think it was Halloween today not yesterday. John even has a lovely white sprinkle of dust on his eyelashes. Very becoming. 

 It was my stepdaughter and her boyfriends 4th anniversary recently so we used that as a good excuse to take them out to the Celtic Manor which is (too conveniently) down the road from us. And this was the dress that I bought at Lou Lou's vintage fair last month so it seemed like a perfect opportunity to wear it. Some of the diamanté elements are missing but I had an idea of just painting the holes where they were once stuck with silver nail vanish and it seems to have done the trick (in lieu of finding exact replacement studs). 

I feel a bit guilty as I told Paige to dress up as the Celtic Manor is posh. It's not really 'posh', people still go into the restaurants in jeans but of course I like to dress up. So, she bought a beautiful dress in the sale and looked incredible but the minute we walked into the restaurant and realised (of course), that we were the most overdressed of all it's occupants......she was not happy. 

A great night was had nevertheless, even if Isaac and myself were both caught napping on their grand sofas in the lobby bar towards the end of the night. At least my excuse is age (coupled with too much food and wine). 

Not sure about Isaac.