Slimosizes and unshrinkable underwear

Any British vintage lover will probably have seen a few Norman Linton dresses on their travels. 

In my head, Norman's frocks are on a par with Richard Stump's - frumpy, not that exciting, made for middle-aged housewives in the 1960-70s. Ebay listings are fond of referring to such dresses as granny (or geek) chic... 

 

(No insult intended to middle-aged housewives - after all, I am one. Or grannies - I was very fond of mine.)

 

 

But hey, sometimes Granny takes a trip, a middle-aged housewife rocks a psychedelic maxi, and expectations are confounded.

Because I'm nerdy like that, I tried researching Norman Linton clothing but found little information. 

 

What I did discover was a hilarious Pathe News clip from 1953, in which the man himself is seen measuring robust women to make an outsize dressmaker's dummies.

I wonder if the slimosizes label was intended to make ladies with generous proportions feel better about themselves? 

This dress is my first purchase from my shop; I couldn't resist the trumpet sleeves and groovy print. 

First of many, no doubt.

1960s Norman Linton maxi dress - charity shopped

1970s cropped faux fur jacket - Kinky Melon

1960s tapestry bag - jumble sale

Boots - retail (sale)

 

 

 

I wore my new frock to work on Saturday, followed by a trip out for tapas with the family.

Hmm, the beauty and grace of the distaff side of the family knows no bounds... 

 

Actually, I've already made a second purchase, driven to it by the ongoing cold temperatures;

 

 

a 1960s Wolsey vest, just what I need under a dress on a chilly day.

Wolsey is a Leicester-based heritage British label, one of the oldest textile manufacturers in the world. Known for their knitwear, Wolsey underwear was worn by Scott, Amundsen and Shackleton on their polar expeditions. If it's good enough for those conditions, it'll do me.

(Do have a look at the link, there are some fabulous photos.)

Cool packaging too.

(Vix, I know you don't really do undies, but look, it's you!)

 

I'm late again for Visible Monday, but luckily Patti is a forgiving hostess and lets me sneak in after hours.

 

Do bear with me while I try to find a rhythm for posting and commenting - I'll get there!

 

xxx

We kissed on a corner, then danced through the night

Cards written and posted.

Presents (mostly) wrapped.

Shopping (mostly) done.

School terms ended.

Tree decorated.

Impromptu Christmas post-work piss-up enjoyed...

and the wearing of festive red is ensuring that I stay bright amid the fog and the drizzle. 

So I'll be joining up with Patti and co for pre-Christmas fun on Visible Monday. (Look at me, getting in early, that's a first.)

1970s Co-op maxi skirt, top, denim jacket, vintage scarf and bangles - charity shopped

1960s tapestry and vinyl bag - jumble sale

Boots - retail (sale)

 

I should also add that the first Baileys of the season has been drunk - this morning, at my friend Joanne's. 

 

Well, you've got to start somewhere.  

1970s Miss Mary of Sweden dress, and bangles - charity shopped

Boots - retail (sale)

 

Nina and I have also had out first Christmas sing-song, featuring a rousing rendition of Slade's Merry Christmas Everybody, followed by our favourite duet, Fairytale of New York.

 

 She loves this song; I heard her singing along to it in a very strange voice, and when I asked her why she was singing like that, she replied that she was trying to sound like the man on the record. 

 

(Tonight, Matthew, we're going to be Shane MacGowan and Kirsty MacColl.)

 

After all, nothing says Christmas like a 9 year old belting out you're a bum, you're a punk, you're an old slut on junk.   

 

 

Her singing is better than her spelling... 

Fart Her Christmas indeed. 

 

 

Look what I got from Jenifer - I will enjoy making these Fuck Yeah Culottes. I just need some time - can one of you send me some more of that please?

 

 

Unlike the kids, I have yet to break up for Christmas - I'm working until December 23rd. But it's OK, things are under control, I think.

 

I don't hate this time of year, but I don't believe the hype. I know happiness doesn't lie in a big gift box with a fancy bow, or the perfectly decorated house/cake/tree. I am neither a Christian nor a pagan, so celebrations of the birth of Jesus or the winter solstice mean little to me. I have family and friends who enjoy the ritual of card- and present-giving, so I'm willing to participate; I like the food and drink, the parties, and the atmosphere of goodwill and bonhomie. I'll even sing a carol or two - they're only songs, and they are embedded in my consciousness just like Merry Christmas Everybody or Fairytale of New York. I like time off work, and time spent with loved ones. As for the rest - the commercial hard sell, the greed, the message that the measure of your love and care is found in the cost of your gift - well, I can do without all that. 

I'm unlikely to squeeze in another post before next Friday, given my schedule of work and social events, so whatever your take on ancient Palestinian myths or pagan fertility rites, I'm sending all of you a big Christmas kiss under the mistleoe - you lucky sods!

I've got a feeling this year's for me and you

So happy Christmas - I love you, baby

I can see a better time, when all our dreams come true.

xxxxx

A brush with nylon

Certain fabrics get a very bad press. 

 

While natural fibres like silk and cotton are undeniably lovely to wear, I don't have any problem with synthetics, particularly in colder weather.

I bought this 1970s maxi dress last week on my day out with Vix and Tania. It's handmade (very nicely too, complete with purple lining) from brushed nylon, like my autumn-in-a-frock dress (seen here). 

 

Often used in the 1960-70s to make bedding and nightwear, brushed nylon is one of those fabrics which divide opinion, rather like Crimplene. 

I'm in the why not? camp. It washes easily, dries quickly, doesn't need ironing, and the Fuzzy Felt texture is perfect for days with a chill in the air. And that groovy psychedelic print makes me very happy.

The history of synthetic fibres is interesting. Early examples like rayon and viscose were organic, derived from cellulose, but with the invention of nylon in the 1930s, fabrics could be entirely man-made from petrochemicals. 

Acrylic and polyester followed in the 1940s and 50s. Whether you like to wear them or not, these fabrics had a revolutionary impact on fashion.

 

 

1970s maxi dress, jacket, vintage brooch, bangles and boots - all charity shopped

 

It's a good thing I wore something quick-drying today; it has been pouring with rain off and on, and I got caught out without an umbrella on my way home from Lidl. 

 

My life is all about the glamour. 

Speaking of which, I found this little piece of glamour in a charity shop this week.

 

Yes, I know it could do with a good going-over with a lint roller, but for a quid, it's a lovely little vintage velvet evening bag. And it's probably as close as I'll ever get to the Taj Mahal.

 

After a bit of googling, I discovered that this type of embroidery using metallic thread is called zardozi, a Persian technique which became popular in India. Designs use silver or gold thread, and can incorporate beads and pearls. This decoration is still produced today, but I think my bag is an old one since it has a internal pocket intended for a small mirror, not a feature you find in modern bags.  

 

 

And I found a suitably autumnal vintage copper brooch in the same shop, also £1.

 

 

I'm ridiculously easy to please; a nylon frock, a £2 spend in a charity shop, and the company of my cats in the garden. 

I'm really busy at the moment, so in an effort to plan ahead (like wearing a quick-dry frock on a rainy day), I'm linking in advance to Patti's Visible Monday.

Have a good weekend, everyone!

xxxx

 

Once upon a time when we were friends

Thanks for all your suggestions about helping volunteers to spot vintage donations; I'm going to write up some ideas for the retail managers, and hopefully we can plan a We Love Vintage campaign!

It shouldn't, but it still surprises me when people recoil at the mention of the 1970s.

I was discussing vintage with a volunteer in the shop, and she thought no one could possibly want to buy anything dating from that decade. (I did happen to be wearing a 1970s dress at the time, which made us both laugh.)

1970s German-made maxi dress - Ebay
1970-80s Wallis cropped fur jacket - Kinky Melon
1960s tapestry/vinyl bag - jumble sale
Boots - retail
Vintage Austrian crystal necklace - charity shopped

Oh well, each to their own.

I'll take my Seventies Chic over to Patti's for Visible Monday. 

I have to admit, I don't look as good in fur as this lot.

Jess' fur was being buffeted by the wind, and she does not like that.

She always sits on this particular bit of fence, but both my neighbour and I have noticed that she falls asleep there and sometimes slips off, followed by an unseemly scrabble to cling on and haul herself back up.

My lovely neighbour is such a softie, he's made a little platform for her by nailing on a wider piece of wood. Now she can catnap without losing her dignity.

On Saturday, I had a delightful evening with my dear friends Sally, Claire and Martin.

First - pizza;

then ABC!

The Lexicon of Love remains a favourite album of mine. The lush strings, funky horns and basslines, Trevor Horn's shimmering production, and lyrics full of wordplay dissecting love and relationships all combine to make an epic set of songs.

Released in 1982, it coincided with my arrival in Sheffield, so it's part of the soundtrack of my youth, and accompanied my transition from living at home to being away at university.

So the opportunity to see Martin Fry with the Southbank Sinfonia (conducted by Anne Dudley, who played keyboard and was also responsible for the orchestral arrangements on the original record) was a real treat.

He was in great voice, as were the audience who sang along with enthusiasm, especially to The Look of Love. How wonderful it must be to have written songs which a hall full of people sing back to you over 30 years later.

Of course, the Sheffield crowd were always going to be partial; although Fry is a Manchester lad, he came here to study English Literature at university (the same course as me) and formed ABC with fellow musicians from Sheffield.

And after the gig, as we were deliberating where to go for a drink, who should come and introduce herself but Diane, who features her incredibly fine photography on her blog Heart Shaped. We've been blog and Facebook friends for some time, so it was really good to meet her at last.

Of course, just as there are 1970s-haters, there are those who sneer at the 1980s too. I wonder why some people feel the need to write off whole decades? Ten years; that's a long time, and so much can change socially and politically, and in terms of popular culture, music and fashion. 

For me, both decades were formative, they provide the backdrop to my childhood, adolescence and early adulthood.

And any decade that produced The Lexicon of Love is alright with me!

xxxx

   

Flying colours

After wearing an unusual (for me) amount of black, I did promise you some colour, didn't I?

And I like to keep my word.

I've had a busy week. 

 

I've been either working, shopping, cooking, doing laundry, or catching up with friends; throw a British Gas engineer visit, two parents' evenings and job interview into the mix, and blogging finds itself at the end of a long list of Stuff To Do.

This is what I wore to my interview. 

A job selling vintage should come with a requirement to wear it, don't you think?

1960s Admyra jacket and 1970s St Michael pussy-bow blouse - charity shopped

1970s Tricosa maxi skirt - antiques centre

1960s vinyl bag and ankle boots - Ebay

Bangle - gift from Fiona

 

I am waiting to hear the outcome of the interview; they will either think I have a passion for vintage and a wealth of great ideas, or that I am an annoyingly gobby know-all .  

 

We shall see.

 

 

1970s maxi dress - £5 sale rail, vintage fair

Jacket, clogs, necklace and bangles - charity shopped

 

 

I match the fuchsia, lavender, and the turning leaves of the Virginia creeper. 

My new-to-me 1970s apron has a distinctly autumnal look to it as well; by rights, it should belong to (pinni)Vix.

 

 

I might just sneak in to Patti's Visible Monday party (even though it's Thursday - oops.) 

Right; more cooking to be done now, and hopefully I'll be catching up with you all later. 

 

It's all go!

 

xxx

 

Foxy Lady

After a very busy and profitable day in the shop on Saturday, I was ready for a relaxed Sunday. With some local vintage shopping thrown in? Oh, go on then. 

One of my favourite buildings in Sheffield, which has featured on the blog many times - Abbeydale Picture House. 

I haven't been to the vintage market there for a while, so it seemed appropriate to take advantage of a sunny Sunday and have a browse. 

 

 

There was an Eighties fashion show featuring Material and Uptown Girls...

and some very stylishly dressed folk who agreed to have their photos taken.

 

 

The couple on the left were lovely, friendly and funny and extremely well-dressed; the ladies on the right stood out in their colour and print.

 

 

The vintage market has grown over the years, and I am delighted to see the Picture House being used for events like this. I bumped into lots of people I knew, had a good rummage, chatted to stall holders, and a couple of hours passed very happily.

Colourful ceramics...

and both musical and alcoholic accompaniments.

 

 

Oh, don't try and tell me you aren't sniggering, I won't believe you.

This one's for Fi - that's you, that is!

So what did I buy?

 

This; it's creased because I put it on as soon as I got home, straight out of the bag. A fiver? How could I leave it behind? 

 

1970s handmade evening dress - vintage market

Sandals - retail (sale)

1970s necklace - belonged to a friend's mum

Bangles - charity shopped 

You're never less than visible in vintage black satin with metallic thread detail, so I'd better get myself over to Patti's for Visible Monday.

 

 

I bought another dress and a skirt from the same seller's £5 rail, which I'll show you in future posts. 

This poor creature looked decidedly sad, unlike the perky painted foxes which have started appearing in my local area of late.

They make me smile.

So onward with another week - hope you're all doing OK, I'll be visiting soon, I promise!

xxxxx