Coming Up Roses

I haven't the best reputation when it comes to making soft toys. First there was that time I tried to make plush number six for the boyfriend, the reason being that the boyfriend's nickname is Bobby Six (which, if you're wondering, refers to a Native American Bounty Hunter in a '90s television show called Renegade. Obscure? Try telling him.) Frustratingly however, this six just wouldn't turn out. I tugged and pulled, used scissors and chopsticks and all I got was a frickin' worm. I saw no other option but to slap an eye (read: button) on the bugger and give the cyclops worm to him for Christmas. Needless to say, Bobby was not impressed. Some time after that harrowing experience, prompted by the event that was Bobby's then-housemate's birthday, I spent hours making a near-perfect big eyed owl from vintage fabrics. Said birthday girl was all "Wow it's amazing, I totally love it," lulling me into a false sense of security, thinking my curse had been lifted. A month later however - right in the midst of uni exams - she kicked Bobby out on the street. We've lived together ever since. I kind of blame her, but mostly I blame my sewing skills.


Thankfully however, there are curse-free people on this big balloon with mountains more talent than I making and selling beautiful things so that, should I not want to, I needn't ever touch a needle and thread ever again (well, at least not until it comes 'round to adjusting my second hand clothes). One such crafty creature is my very dear friend, Rosie Miles. Rosie makes, amongst other things, sulky fairies (see above photos). Which are kind of the most perfect Christmas gifts ever. If you're London way, pop along to the London Designer Makers' Christmas Sale this Saturday, where she'll have a stall. It's at the St Aloysius Social Club near Euston and she'll be there from noon til 6pm along with a bunch of other local creatives including Julia Pott and Daley Walton. Rosie's threatened to sulk and read twilight books all day if no one shows so, you know, serious pain and suffering hinges on your going. Oh, and there'll be cake and tarts too. Check out Rosie's blog for more details. On second thoughts, details or no, check out her blog anyway. Also if you can't make it on Saturday, head over to her Etsy shop to treat your loved ones (or yourself) to one of her creations. Though you'll have to order today if you want to ensure it arrives before Christmas day. Quick, quick! If you miss out, I take full responsibility. But personally, if given the choice between a late present made by the lovely Rosie Miles, and no present from her at all, I would certainly take the former option. I'm sure your family and friends will agree.

P.S. If anyone has/knows of anyone with a teleportation device, I would appreciate your passing on the deets as I'd very much like to be in London for this event this weekend. Thanks in advance darling ducks.

Welcome to the '60s

Who says I don't give you the appreciation you deserve? No one. That's who. NO ONE. And you know why that is? On my last London trip I searched and scoured and dug through all the charity shops and vintage stores I could find. All in search of the little dress that could, no, would make one of my lovely readers very happy. Well, the fantastic 1960s vintage number is up on the eBay machine, and the cost couldn't be lower if I tried. Bidding starts at just 99pence and, as always, there is no reserve to speak of. Sizing is rather flexible as it's been taken in and would be tremendously easy to take out again for anyone with a pair of scissors. Check the listing for the current measurements and feel free to contact me if you'd like the estimated measurements were someone to take it out. Get in there before it ends, just 7 days from today (at a very strange time at night, thanks to the very frustrating Auctiva).

Who's Got The Crack?

So it's been over 24 hours since I came back from my half a week in London and I'm pretty sure I'm having big city withdrawals because I'm super tired and cranky as all hell. And seriously craving tea. Smoked tea. With soy milk. Which is what people coming off the crack and/or big city want, right? On second thoughts this might have something to do with not having smoked a whole cigarette since being in England. I might just be going smoke-mad. Either way, Lapsang Souchong me up please.

To make the breaking of my London cherry as painless as possible, we stuck mainly to the usual touristy things. We saw the London Eye from below, played where's Micky Mouse (like Where's Wally but real and just generally much better), visited modern art gallery, the Tate Modern, accidentally shat on God's face (according to the no photograph religious bouncer/priest man/pope) by taking photos inside Saint Paul's Cathedral, hung out in Soho, wandered along Portobello Road, marvelled at the snow they sell in Harrods, did lots of rather average vintage shopping, ran around Hyde Park a couple of times, had a beer in the National Gallery and I think I spent more time on public transport in the last few days than I had in the weeks and weeks preceding. All that sweat, smoke, pollution and undergrounding is disgusting and awesome at the same time. Not unlike seeing a lamb being born, which I was privilaged/cursed with seeing last week.

Bobby eating an apple at the Tate Modern.

Saint Paul's Cathedral.

Vintage shopping at The East End Thrift Store.

Pastels on Portabello Road.

Harrods.

Snow in Harrods.

Sunglasses: £2 from Primark

Top: £4 from an Eastbourne charity shop.
Purple tights: Left overs from one of my Vintage and Retro Fashion sales.

The conclusion of all this is I need more Mickey Mouse, pastel and smoke in my life, pronto.

London Calling

I just got in after a train ride back to Eastbourne from London. I only have one word to describe the city: Manic. The kind of awesome maniacy that occurs in Manic Street Preachers or The Bangles singing Manic Monday. Not "O.M.G. I'm totally manic. Look! I have two different coloured socks on! Manic!". Well, maybe a little bit. But mostly no.

More to come as soon as I get my arse back into gear. In the meantime, here's some eye candy from the streets and pubs of London.

A child's toy box from 1897.

I totally want a cane.

London ladies amongst the pastels of Portabello Road.

Click on the picture for more detail, the dress was amazing.

It's incredible how ancient the pubs are in Europe. This one made me feel as though I was in an old crime film with muted colours and wonderful fashions.

The Duke of Westminster is rumoured to have emblazoned the Chanel logo on London's lampposts as a letter of love to Coco Chanel. Mr. Bobby, I would like owls on all the lamposts in Eastbourne please.