Under the Apple Tree

Today, in honour of our fallen heroes, I have been listening to The Best of the Andrews Sisters. So from them, to you, Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree:

I wrote my mother,
I wrote my father,
And now I’m writing you too.
I’m sure of mother,
I’m sure of father,
And now I want to be sure of you.

Don’t sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me,
Anyone else but me, anyone else but me, NO NO NO!
Don’t sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me
Till I come marching home.
Don’t go walking down lovers’ lane with anyone else but me,
Anyone else but me, anyone else but me,
Don’t go walking down lovers’ lane with anyone else but me
Till I come marching home.

I just got word from a guy who heard
From the guy next door to me,
That a girl he met just loves to pet,
And it fits you to a “T”.
So don’t sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me
Till I come marching home.

Hope you’ve had a great ANZAC Day in spite of the horrible weather.

Background image by Dan S from Stock.xchng.

Ninety Bucks. ’Cause I’m worth it.

During my holidays I set myself a fashion mission: to find at least one vintage item in each of my holiday spots. It began in Sydney, with a rather spectacular feather hat, and it ended in Noosa – at Eumundi Markets to be precise, with this quaint pendant made from an 1890s cash register key.

I’ve often seen these types (no pun intended) of items at craft markets and on Etsy, but until now I had never shelled out for one. Initially (pardon the pun again please; I can’t help myself) I was looking at typewriter keys, but couldn’t decide on which letter – the initial of my first name? Too obvious? Too Carrie necklace?

And then I spotted the cash register keys. I knew exactly which one I was going to get (it didn’t actually cost $90). I showed off my purchase to my friends when they caught up with me. “Go for the most expensive key you could find, eh?” Kitty asked with a grin. But of course. Cute, huh?

Choose your own envelopeIt is from Wear Ya Bin, and they also make pendants, earrings and cufflinks from recycled Scrabble pieces, as well as typewriter and cash register keys. I was bidden to choose an envelope from an enormous stack: all were individually decorated with paper ephemera. And when I asked for a business card, it came as a sticker on an Admit One ticket. Even cuter! 

Sweet Temptation

Sweet shoppe :: Watts // Big Up // No flashI was like a child greedily pressing my nose up against the window of a sweet shop, which is apt since the jewellery in these windows does resemble old-fashioned hard-boiled lollies. Inexplicably, the store was closed, which was cruel: all these goodies just beyond my grasp.

I’d seen The Family Jewels credited in the pages of Australian Vogue, but this was the first opportunity I’d had to visit the store in Sydney in person, so it was very disappointing to be unable to enter this Aladdin’s Cave. Probably good for my purse though, since I wasn’t about to make like one of Ali Baba’s thieves.

But good news: you can shop online! There’s not anywhere near the same choice as the store, but enough to tempt you.

Sweet Temptation :: Watts // Big Up // No flash

La La La, I’m Not Listening!

Recently I have been waxing lyrical about stripes. Non-nautical stripes. Vintage ‘barberstripes’ of the 18th and 19th centuries. There were so many stripes in the most recent story I couldn’t jam these shoes in too.

They look so pretty floating in the clouds up there you’d never suspect their sinister background, would you (pardon the pun)? You see, they stank. Possibly they still do.

I bought them on eBay for a song. The English seller had two pairs, and they were going for around £9. The price alone should have warned me. But I snapped them up and eagerly awaited their arrival. When I finally ripped into the box, an offensive waft of glue and plastic assailed my nostrils. I quickly slammed the lid back on and shoved them under my desk at work, hoping no-one else had noticed the stench.

I should have learned after The Last Time.

They look so pretty floating in the clouds up there you’d never suspect their sinister background …

However, ever the optimist, I took them home and hung them outside on the clothesline to air. After a few days with no olfactory improvement, I sprayed them liberally with Oust 3.1, a general odour eliminator, air sanitiser and all-round germ killer, and left them out on the line. I continued this process for a couple of weeks. They improved somewhat.

I ventured to wear them, and held my breath all day at work. I took them home, and shut them up in a plastic shoebox with a cotton wool ball soaked in lavender oil. I reasoned that since the shoes were made of fabric, they should soak up this far more pleasant smell.

This worked quite well. I don’t say there isn’t the faintest whiff of eau de glue about them, but they are bearable – and wearable. I’ve left the cotton wall ball in with them just to be safe. And perhaps I have learned my lesson this time, and when I next see cheap shoes on the internet I will listen to that little angel whispering into my right ear – rather than the blandishments of The Other One. 

Washing Habits: On the Line

Living in the same apartment for 12 years and sharing a communal laundry, I have had ample opportunity to observe – and be surprised by – the laundering habits of my neighbours. Particularly in the way people hang their washing on the line, all higgledy-piggledy, pegs jammed any which way, and altogether arranging their laundry so as to take the maximum length of time to dry.

I don’t know about you, but my mum taught me stuff. I undoubtedly didn’t want to listen and wasn’t at all interested, but through a process of unwilling osmosis, absorbed her wisdom over the years.

Garments – vintage or otherwise – are more delicate when they are wet, so it is always best to take care so your clothes will last as long as possible. Obviously it is best to read the care label on your garment, but apart from items that need to be dried flat, these don’t instruct you on the art of drying.

These are some tips for hanging washing I picked up from my mum:

1. Make sure the drying surface is clean (dirt! spiderwebs! bird poo!)
2. Turn garments inside out to prevent fading
3. Dry knits, silks, and other delicate garments flat, and in the shade
4. Hang garments by their thinnest sections, ie, trousers by their legs, not by the waistband which is the thickest part and will take longest to dry
5. Peg garments on seams or find ugly peg marks in your dry clothes
6. Hang dresses, coats etc on coathangers; fasten the coathanger to the line with a piece of ribbon so it isn’t blown away by the wind (or you may be able to find special hooks that clip to the clothesline in a hardware store) – it takes less space on the line too
7. Preferably dry vintage garments flat, or folded over a seam; eg, the waistband of a dress
8. If you do share a clothesline with your neighbours, it is only polite to hang laundry neatly with an economic use of line – don’t spread it out with big gaps in between each item – and don’t leave it out for days!
9. Before you bring it in, give your washing a shake to smooth out creases and loosen any bugs and spiders that might have taken refuge inside
10. Fold items neatly as you go – it makes it easier to put them away, and in case you don’t immediately, they won’t develop ugly creases until you muster the energy for ironing

Once upon a time women dried their laundry on scented bushes such as lavender so their garments would be impregnated with their delicious scent. These days we’ve been reduced to liquid fabric softener, sigh.

Women drying laundry on the gorse, Vale of Health, Hampstead Heath, by Scott McFarland