Prepping For Deco

Every February the messages start to fly frantically back and forth between fellow Decophiles as we count down the days before we all converge at TCOTU (The Centre Of The Universe) for annual art deco weekend in Napier.  Furs are aired, costumes are inspected for any signs of wear and tear and a few running repairs are undertaken.  And every year I vow and declare that next year I will be better prepared and not leave things until the last minute.  Well it was another last minute effort this weekend, as per usual, in the scorching hot weather.  We seem to have packed much more efficiently this year though, using our old leather cases rather than polypropylene bags from the $2 shop.  The clothes are the least of our worries, it's all the handbags, shoes and hats which take up most of the space.  But one must have the correct accessories, they really to make the difference darling!  Next year I will do better ...

Now Mr Shoestring is not given to romantic gestures (or he may well be, but not where I am concerned).  However for some reason this year he pushed the boat out and ordered me a vintage style bike for Valentine's Day!  It will take about six weeks to arrive but it is a beautiful pale green shade and will have a dear little basket too.  Of course this means that I will actually learn to become a competent bike rider rather than a person who consistently falls into blackberry bushes and emerges dripping with blood and shaking.  After all, we can't have such a beautiful bike being damaged.



One good turn deserves another and I proudly presented Mr Shoestring with the hat box he had been visiting in the second hand shop near Shoestring Cottage, which pleased him mightily.  Even the colour is deco and it still has its New Zealand Rail check in sticker on one side.  It seems that people liked to make sure in those days that things were securely fastened; the hat box has not one, not two, but three catches to ensure no adventurous hats could make their escape.

It wasn't all toiling over a hot iron this weekend though, it was the monthly Matamata markets and what a fabulous haul of treasure.  This little fellow was just begging to come home to Shoestring Cottage, he was leaping for joy once I put him on the wall.  

His colouring is beautifully faded and though he has lost a bit of his gloss he hasn't lost any of his joie de vivre!

And this deco looking girl has taken up residence alongside the other two I already had.  She looks a bit haughty and superior but I'm sure in time she will get used to her reduced circumstances and enjoy life in a shadow box in a cottage.  Or at least tolerate it with better grace. 

Her companions look a little perplexed to find a newcomer alongside but they will learn to rub along nicely in time.  

One thing which gave me a nostalgic thrill was finding this IBM typewriter golf ball.  When these typewriters were introduced they were the epitome of all that was state of the art, cutting edge and technologically advanced in offices.  Where I worked only the secretaries of senior partners (it was a law firm) had access to these magical machines.  We used to have to type documents in triplicate and every time an error was made it involved correcting the carbon copies as well, how time consuming and frustrating it was.  The more careful you were not to make a mistake, the more seemed to appear as if by some kind of horrible magic.  At nights the typewriters were all lovingly covered with plastic covers, there was some fear that dust might somehow get into the workings and damage them from what I can remember.  And now these things seem so quaint and antiquated!  

There was a delightful fruit plate to hang in the trees outside and replace one which flew off in a storm and smashed to smithereens.  It set me back $2 but I endured the enormous expenditure for the sake of garden ornamentation.

And four champagne flutes which look pretty with a cooling summer drink - a berry, some ice, some rose water and tonic water, just the thing on a hot summer's afternoon.  They have a pattern of grapes on them and I can imagine them on the set of Mad Men only with a sophisticated cocktail perhaps.  

The tomatoes and passionfruit are cropping well even if the grass is turning into brown felt rather than green velvet.  

It wouldn't have been a well balanced weekend without a touch of stitching and I finally got around to making the teatowel I bought in Brighton into a cushion to go with one from Napier.  Instead of choking myself on second hand duvet feathers this time I cheated and put a feather pillow inside, much quicker and less bothersome on a hot summer day. 

Maybe the best part of the weekend though was visiting with Madame La Poste and being allowed into the inner sanctum, her work room.  What an Aladdin's Cave it was!  A place for everything and most things in their place, baskets with fabrics all ready for the next project, a design wall with her crazy quilt almost completed, inspirational pictures and everything to warm the cockles of a quilter's or embroiderer's heart.  I came away feeling newly inspired and less guilty about my scheme to start work on a new quilt; after all, if it's good enough for Madame La Poste it's good enough for me.  I do think she was rather unkind to belittle my use of brown but each to his own!  Thank you Madame La Poste for a look into that magical place.  

The Treasure Chest

In the weekend when we went to the market (an outing which makes my heartstrings thrum with anticipation, and I am seldom disappointed), I was thrilled to come across a stall where the vendors seemed to be aiming all their wares at me, me, me and me alone!  (As I picked up and paid for one item an overexcited woman cried out, "Come over here mum, and see this weird teapot, I've never seen anything like it", which I thought was a bit harsh.)  First I bought the the most interesting old tin (a bit speckled with rust) in a luscious shades of gold and green, which was a Treasure Chest and originally contained 5lb of Teaspoon Tea, packed by The Quality Packers, of 5 Commerce Street Auckland, only a few steps from where my apartment is.  (It was meant to be, obviously.)  We were a nation of tea drinkers then, before coffee usurped its place and we became devoted to the Flat White and Short Black.  Imagine buying 5lb of tea, I tend to buy 120 grams of special tea now, Earl Grey Paris or The Earl of Harlem, from a specialty tea shop.  5lb would last me for years.

Then I spied the aforementioned teapot along with a honeypot adorned with bees (another thing I had always wanted), and I was very pleased with myself (despite the fact that passersby were laughing at my choices).

It wasn't until I got home and unpacked my treasures that I pondered the obvious preference for things masquerading as other things - beehive honeypots, cottage teapots,

 little pansy plates (thank you Dancing Queen)

 pink forget me not vases

mugs disguised as basketweave or ears of corn

 beer tankards disguised as squirrels on giant acorns

 sunflower and asparagus plates

or dishes resembling celery 

Why is it charming for something to be dressed up in this way?  Maybe it goes along desire to dress up in costume for art deco weekend?  Who knows but I will just abandon myself to this preoccupation and not question it.  (But I shall try to resist the temptation to dress as a celery stalk or sunflower.)

Maybe the best treasure to be unearthed on that outing was the powder compact (very deco looking, I thought).  Another thing I had always coveted, and though I don't know where I will locate any powder to go in it I will pretend if needs be, once I get to Napier, that I am being decadent and powdering my nose in public.  

I couldn't walk past a richly coloured paperweight to go with the "new" plate a friend of my mum's had donated to my sadly empty and bare cottage, either.

The best new blossom in the garden this week was a scented frilly white flower (and even in the section of the garden designated as white), the name of which I can no longer recall but which was completely beguiling to me when I read its label in the garden centre last year.  

As I was hanging out the washing in the warm summer breeze I noticed one of the old teatowels I had picked up at an op shop somewhere.  It was decorated with images of flowers and explicit explanations told what each of them represented.  How startling to be given a bouquet containing all these different flowers, it is fortunate that we no longer associate blooms with definite meanings. What if you received this one:

Sometimes ignorance is bliss!

Mother Nature Is One Fickle Dame

Saturday morning was fair but cool and Mr Shoestring and I sashayed forth to the monthly Matamata market where I was very satisfied with my purchases.  (One might also say smug and smirky.)  The deepest blood red/purple trailing geranium, not to mention various unusual perennials (I always love it when the vendor tells me I have made good selections, though to be honest why would they not say that?), and my very first Carlton wear piece.  I have always loved Carlton wear but as per usual a lot of other people seem to share my passion and it is ridiculously expensive.  This foxglove plate may be showing signs of wear but it was inexpensive, and as it had been languishing on the stallholder's table last time the market was held it was obviously in sore need of a good home, so it came away with me.

For months I have been idling around the stall where a man cunningly crafts cut outs in old coins into jewellery and torturing myself as to which piece I would choose.  This weekend I threw caution to the wind and snapped up this one, cleverly using two coins

and just as I was turning away with my purchase clamped in my hot paw I spied this very pretty enamelled spoon, transformed into a pendant.  The blue and pink shades in the sky are so intense and realistic, I couldn't resist it.  

Having happily dragged my treasures home to my lair I spent the afternoon tossing compost and coffee grounds about in the garden, murdering slugs and watering my new treasured plants.  I noticed with satisfaction that some lilies had already opened and a lot more were promising to do so any day. 

Imagine my horror when I woke up in the night to hear the wind howling and the rain lashing down on the roof.  In the morning most of the lilies were horizontal rather than vertical, the wind kept up its pace, and the rain continued to beat down upon us.  I could only be glad that I had planted my new plants while I had the chance and hope that they survived, and weren't ripped from the earth. Luckily I had picked the last of the roses and some fragrant pinks, but it wasn't much of a consolation.

 And true to my promise from last week, here is a picture of The Infinity Quilt in her glory, finally completed.  

She really isn't that bad and she did use up all the scraps from a favourite fabric I used to make dresses for my daughters all those years (decades) ago

Here is a the back, and you can see the way the edge is cunningly finished and the way I had to create miniscule triangles (and diamonds too, though they aren't in the photo) to complete it.  You have to be extremely dedicated and patient to accomplish this - I wouldn't recommend it to anybody unless they were making their master work.  

 I couldn't resist putting in a couple of pictures of this embroidery from an op shop which uses only the most simple of straight stitches but gives such a feeling of movement in the fabrics of garments, also in the trees and windmills.  Look at the little patch pocket on the brown trousers!  

Winging My Way Back To The Blogosphere

Well I have to admit that I have been severely chastised of late because of my lack of blog posts and now that I look back it seems that it has been a good three months, which is very surprising to me. This will be put right immediately here is a picture festooned blog post to make up for lost time. 

Since my last missive winter deco has been and gone (sigh).  It proved to be a roaring success (well, how could it fail to be, Napier never disappoints) and as well as the usual suspects we met two charming ladies from the Deep South who were an inspiration.  They are shy creatures who would not like to be named in the public domain but suffice it to say that they were the picture of sartorial elegance and generous in sharing ideas for deco-ficication of clothing and accessories.  By the time winter deco was over I almost looked forward to returning home in order to start planning costumes for next year, which is no small thing.  

Shortly after returning from winter deco I was given this glorious original parasol/umbrella in rich burgundy tones.  It is of no practical use, as the fabric is perishing and going into holes in places, but folded up it looks most impressive.  

I had already been hankering after an ox blood red costume and at winter deco obtained an  ox blood coloured pair of leather gloves.  I already had a leather clutch bag, courtesy of St Vinnies (not too badly priced at $2) and one pair of shoes, but found another pair with a finer heel.

These things should all go together nicely to be the basis of a costume for next winter's deco - it is always so good to have a project on the go to keep one sane in between the deco days!  I have a couple of hats, (a fedora and a cloche), to work with, and a heather coloured tweed suit.  As The Dancing Queen reminds me, the hat can be the most difficult part so it is a good thing that isn't a worry this time round!

In case you should think I have been entirely taken up with my personal appearance I can report that a very good haul of priceless art works was obtained on the journey south.  This wonderful landscape features two cows which somewhat resemble dogs and also a sheep which looks rather like a blob of cotton wool and I was very taken with it when I spied it in the Taupo Salvation Army shop. Fortunately it was reduced to $4, so it was within my slender budget

and it looks very good with the other similarly toned landscapes it hangs with.  

But I think this one is my favourite from that excursion.  The colours and subject remind me of Rita Angus for some reason and I fear I will soon have to call a halt to this collection - the walls in the small rooms at Shoestring Cottage are groaning under the weight of them and there is very little space left unadorned.

Even so, I am very pleased with the look of them all together.  

At the same Sallies store I lashed out and bought this one too, thinking it would look good in the rose-festooned boudoir at SC.  When I got it home though the "white" roses were very blue and looked better in the bathroom.  No matter, that was one room which did have a bit of space left for paintings so it all worked out well in the end.  

These had recently been given to Mr Shoestring as a gift and they had the same "feel" as the painting in terms of vintage, so they sit directly underneath.  

This little doyley from 1922 is still in good condition and was languishing in Putaruru, just waiting for somebody to take it home.  The hand made lace around the edge is particularly fine and I can imagine a young woman toiling away on it for her glory box.

Mr Shoestring didn't come home empty handed either, he found a treasure trove of old postcards depicting his beloved Te Aroha, most of the buildings seen here are still standing.  

He is becoming rather discerning now and eschewed several of them for his own obscure reasons and after buying several declared that he had enough of them and would stop collecting them!  If only I had the same self control.  We were surprised to see that most of them were only addressed to a particular street with no street number added, maybe the posties were more knowledgeable and the populace less transient in those days!

Lest you suspect that Mr Shoestring has been neglected during all this feverish shopping I have to tell you that he obtained a magnificent fair isle vest for next winter deco in suitably muted tones

 but best of all I presented him with a wonderful smoking cap (here kindly modelled by Maud)

The leather label on the inside proudly proclaims that P Cohen, tailor, mercer, clother, hatter etc of 92 Willis Street (surely that must be Willis Street in Wellington) was the supplier of this wonderful item.  Next time I am in Wellington I will try to see what is at 92 Willis Street now, I doubt that P Cohen is still keeping shop at that location.

Also Mr Shoestring was presented by my mama with the lovely leather suitcase you can see to the left of the picture below, which still has its original luggage labels festooning its sides and top.  

And I couldn't resist showing off the cushion-made-out-of-a-teatowel which I have stuffed with feathers from an old down duvet.  Featuring Hawkes Bay of course.

Last weekend at Shoestring Cottage I put together some left over crazy quilt blocks and made a pinboard for the sewing room but now that it is finished it seems a shame to cover the embroidery up by sticking things all over the front, so it could well end up being yet one more picture hanging on the groaning walls.  

In the sewing room I am making superhuman efforts to keep things tidy because I recently located this in an op shop and with the help of Mr and Mrs Peaceable it was transported from Auckland to SC.  It wasn't quite the right colour for the sewing room, which had to be repainted and all in all a lot of trouble and bother followed on after the purchase of this "bargain".  It isn't even very practical, because the glass fronted cupboards mean that you can only really store pretty things in that part of it, nothing unattractive or utilitarian.  

 But how pretty it is!

 All the depression glass had to go in there, also the nice tins and containers with mother of pearl buttons

 the nice pieces of crochet and lace awaiting use

 all the labels from ties which are going to be used - for something - some day

and the prettiest floral china plates

I have in fact become a reformed character where my sewing room is concerned - no longer messy and untidy, as long as you don't open the doors on the cupboards, in which case you could be swamped by an avalanche of falling fabric.  

Outside spring is almost upon us and the garden is waking up again.  I have to confess to having carried out yet more inappropriate planting - this time it was something which purports to be a Himalayan Daphne, just like a daphne bush but growing to tree-like proportions (2.5 metres x 2.0 metres).  On the strength of two blossoms (which did indeed look like daphne and had a lovely fragrance) I have given garden space to this incomer - no doubt it will die a long, slow, lingering death in the garden while I anxiously nurse it and fret over it but such is the life of a gardener.  But being ever optimistic a gardener will always hope for the best and imagine the new plant creating a cloud of scented blossoms which will scent the entire garden, possibly the whole neighbourhood, and bring joy and delight to all.

Hoping you are keeping up with all the things which bring you delight even if you don't have the advantage of a deco obsession!