The Umbrella Killer (A Story in Pictures)
Over the years I have amassed quite a collection of parasols. Some of them do double duty as umbrellas. Nearly all of them are damaged in some way.
My friend Rapunzel has long called me an umbrella killer, but that is not fair. All but one of these parasols are vintage, so no-one should be surprised if they have incurred damage over the long years.
My friend Rapunzel has long called me an umbrella killer, but that is not fair.
There is nothing wrong with this umbrella. It's pretty lightness means it can double as a parsol in summer.I own so many because I hate sunscreen. It is sticky and greasy and takes so long to apply. Of course I do employ it at the beach, but around town I prefer to protect my complexion with a parasol.
Also, parasols are quaint and pretty, and olde-worlde-y. And they are sensational. It used to amuse me when bogans, travelling into the city from the outer suburbs, would cleverly cry out from their car as they passed me, “It’s not raining!” However, parasols are becoming quite a common sight now, and no longer provoke such witticisms.
Once an African girl (with skin so dark you would not suppose she would have a problem with the sun) approached me in the street to admire my umbrella. She told me she had a skin problem that required she should carry a parasol, but she was too embarrassed to do so. I warmly encouraged her to carry one. Who cares what the hoi polloi think?
It’s about time I took my armful of broken parasols to an umbrella repairer however.
Read more about vintage parasols here.
A missing pompom does not preclude my using this parasol
A trio of paraplegics: I was devastated when a crazy tram driver caused me to smash the handle of this white umbrella; I lost my balance on his hurtling vehicle. It has a gorgeous black lace lining. Epoxy glue was not successful, and I do not know what type of plastic the handle is made from. The frill on the taupe umbrella has unravelled (and this should be easy to fix for a patient needlewoman, which I am not). The mauve umbrella lost its tassel, and has a new one attached temporarily by way of a knot.
One of the seams has come undone on this leaf-printed umbrella in a zesty shade of burnt orange. I ought to be able to repair this!
Nothing wrong with the battenburg lace parasol I bought in Queensland years ago, but I have never yet carried this unfortunate brown umbrella. I don't like the colour. It would be kind to call it caramel and chocolate, but really, it is a shade of baby-poo brown. Yuk.