Posts tagged vintage
In the Name of "Props"





With a number of massive photoshoots coming up in the next few months, my other thrifting ambition has been to gather props.  When working with a stylist, props are usually rented from prop houses - enormous warehouses full of stuff.  However, being a one woman show and operating out of the semi-back of beyond, I tend to use what I have.

In many ways, the back of beyond is what helps me.  There doesn't seem to be the same market for vintage here as there is in other parts of the country, so I can keep to my very modest budget.  The bicycle above--- £5. With its dark green and gold paint, I was smitten as soon as I saw it and it took only a small bit of begging for Kevin to agree that we NEEDED it. IMG_0519


"But wait", I hear you say, "Don't you already have a vintage raleigh?" Well, yes, I do.  But its blue and been photographed to death, so I *needed* another one...Obviously. IMG_0525



Plus look, it can store important work stuff.  Multi-functional as well as beautiful.IMG_0546


I am not sure I can say the same for the accordion I bought a few weeks ago.  Its sole purpose is to be a constant source of amazement for my children.  All they want to do is play it...much to the delight of the neighbours, I am sure. The vintage suitcase, on the other hand is exceedingly useful as it store all of our shoes in the hallway. IMG_0590


And act as perch for weary souls eating their ice cream while Mama  tries to take pictures. IMG_0580


I Seem to Have Blinked

...because there is no way possible my baby girl is ready for a big girl bed.




But whether I want to believe it or not, Miss Georgia Grace moved to a futon underneath her brother over the weekend. The decision was quite sudden after she found a thrifted duvet set I'd bought and declared "Mine!"



She is so pleased with her bed and every guest has been brought to see it.  She carries around the spare pillowcase. The babies are all put to bed about 50 times a day. When a bout of late night wakefulness caused me to suggest that she go into a cot, tears and sobs followed with her broken declaration:

"No! Me! Bed!"


She's only been in it a few days, but it is alrady littered with her most treasured things. Baby dolls, toy cars, trains and every book she can drag up the stairs and into the bed.


And as Ellis used to sleep with a 10in omlet pan at this age, we are counting ourselves lucky.


Christmas Handmades: Part 2

I know. Its almost February. You are all planning your Valentine's crafts and gifts and Christmas is a distant memory except for the extra 10lbs hanging over your waistband (ok, my waistband)

But I couldn't not show you this:


It is made from an old duvet and  with a pillowcase used for the straps and pocket.  It is *exactly* the apron I would make for myself..long and wide straps.  Big wrap around sides.  Pocket. Vintage.  *Swoon*

I am notorious for not wanting to give away things I make, but this one may just have been the hardest to hand over. However, my love of my friend definately outweighed my love of the apron.

I still have enough material to make at least 4 more and I should be able to find some time to make one for myself...




I am on a mission.  Running late for the playgroup at the library and laden with parcels for the post office, I push the buggy as fast as I can down the street.  Georgia is tired and wriggly.  Theo is hungry.  I said I would meet a friend and I am already late.  She will think I didn't turn up.  Again.

I round the corner and I try not to look at the sign.  I try not think about the place.  But it calls to me.  

"I don't have the money to spend" I say to myself. "I don't NEED anything" but already the magnetic pull of its secondhand goodness has steered my wheels off my track.

"Fine" I think as I roll inside the wide doors of the Salvation Army Shop.  "I'll just look. There is no harm in looking".  

Georgia starts pointing to the section I love. We wander back.  I remind myself that I don't need anything.  

But before I know it, vintage textiles leap from the rack into my arms.  A tacky set of faux quilted curtains.


 A bright blue pair of Spiderman drapes.  A floral blue pillowcase.


  ;And then I see it:




A floral printed linen table cloth of epic vintage proportions.  Before I even know what I am doing, I hand over my £2.50 and run out onto the street, breathing hard, my eyes dialated with the thrill.

Later that evening I show Kevin my loot and he knows better than to voice his actual thoughts, but rather mutters "That's nice dear. What are you going to to ue it all for?"

To which I have no response other than:

My name is Kat. And I am an addict.