I have to say it was a very poor effort - inconsistent pricing, not much stuff, but the advantage was that it had been so badly advertised, there weren't many people there, and most of those who were, I knew, which made for a sociable time of it! See, I looked for the silver lining and there it was.
That rather set the tone for the day in terms of bargain-hunting. I had confidently predicted we would come home from our charity shopping trip with bags a-bulging... But I only bought a pair of shoes, and Patsy just one pair of trousers. Oh well, sometimes that's just how it goes.
The scarves in the photo below were jumble finds, the only vintage clothing items there.
Office red leather 40s-style shoes, hardly worn, for £7 in Oxfam. Funnily enough, I bumped into the friend who had had her colours done and now refuses to wear anything which isn't in the Autumn (or is it Spring? I forget. Because I don't care) colour palette. She said these shoes are hideous.
She wears Per Una. I need say no more (at least for UK residents and shoppers. For my lovely international beauties, how to describe the Per Una range at Marks and Spencers? Lots of knitwear, lots of pastels/"soft" shades, lots of floaty-flowiness, corduroy, embellishment - in short, what my mum would think was "fashionable". But she's 86... Ooh, I'm being a real bitch! It may have improved, I haven't been in an M&S for ages.)
Anyway, I bought the hideous shoes for my hideous trotters, OK?
Patsy and I having coffee. She bought her zebra sweater when we went to London.
After an afternoon of charity shops, the kids needed a brief let-off-steam session in the Botanical Gardens before tea.
Poses copied from our girls...
Then on to Zeugma's Turkish restaurant.
If you are wondering who that pale and ghostly figure is on the right, it's the seldom-seen Boy Child. He was winkled out from his all-but-permanent attachment to the XBox for the occasion. It's a miracle.
Note Eldest LB taking the piss out of me.
Speaking of which, I feel I should just clarify that expression, mainly for my American readers. Taking the piss is entirely different from taking/having a piss. I laughed until I nearly did the latter at Terri's comment on my last post. I think she was worried that I would be wantonly urinating in my lovely frock. No no! To take the piss means to joke, tease or mock. Among friends, it's a harmless, amusing activity, though it can have a harder edge, meaning to criticise, fool, or deliberately try to undermine or ridicule.
Patsy and I have a relationship which is sturdy and longstanding enough to withstand much piss-taking. I have never taken a piss with her, near her, or on her. For which we can all be very grateful.
Having sorted out that linguistic muddle, let me show you a new frock.
Your thoughts, ladies? I do love it, but I'm just not sure it's me.
Orange? Yes. With green? Yes. 3/4 sleeves? Yes. Square neckline. Yes yes yes. So is it the embroidery that's too girly, or the scalloped hem, or the flowers, or what? Is it.... a bit Per Una? Nooooooooooooooo!
That's better, all my dresses look decent with my trusty denim jacket.
But help me - what can I do to de-girlify this dress? Wear boots? Or is it just not me? And yes, I know it's weird that I am asking a group of women who have never met me to tell me whether something is me or not. But I trust your judgements, and you've seen my style, so I'm interested to hear your thoughts.
I look forward to hearing from you. Just don't take the piss, alright?