I give you an eyeful

I am, as regular readers will know, quite keen on charity or thrift shops.  I love a bargain, and I love rooting through other people’s stuff in search of treasure.  I have a regular route of shops I trawl through at least once a fortnight. Sometimes I am lucky, sometimes not.

Recently I have been fixated on finding nice pottery rather than finding clothes.  I have a wardrobe full of lovely things which I rarely wear, many of which come from charity shops.  I have however, been ‘off’ clothes, preferring instead to stuff myself into the usual jeans and t-shirt combo because it is comfortable, quick, and means I can get dressed in the dark.  Which I do.  Literally.

I have, however, since my latest Orc project started to take shape, been paying much closer attention to the clothing racks in the last week.  I have got some absolutely wonderful Orc clothes, which I know I promised pictures of, but I want the children to model for me, and we haven’t had a moment lately.  Photos will be forthcoming.

Today however, I found something for me.

It was not a good day to find clothes. My period had started. I was sore, and bloated and generally utterly depressed about how I now look like I am 140 years old etc, even though I don’t really, but today I do, if you see what I mean.

Then I found a dress.

I thought it was a table cloth, and I pulled it out because I loved the colours and thought I might be able to practice with my new sewing machine.  Then I realised it was a dress and fell in love with it.

The price label had fallen off, so I dragged it to the counter and asked the lady, who said: ‘Will a pound do?’

The words: ‘Not arf’ tumbled from my lips.

I dashed home with it to try it on.  It fit.  I LOVE it.

I tweeted about it.  There is an amazing blogger who I follow called Vintage Vixen. I found her through my lovely blogging friend Alex at Odd Socks and Pretty Frocks.  Vintage Vix is a thrift fashion ninja lady.  She gets bargains I can only dream of.  I blew my own trumpet and Vintage Vix took up the clarion call, demanding a photo.

This stymied me a little.

I hate having my photo taken, and I have been better about it of late, but today was a bad day.  Today I felt like a troll crossed with a viking and a bit of Mexican wrestler thrown in.

I wavered.

Then I thought, ‘Bugger it.’  Screw your courage to the sticking post.  It’s a great dress.  And so what if you don’t look like Kate Moss?

I screwed my courage accordingly and got Jason to take my picture before I could chicken out.

I wouldn’t let him take another.  I worried that if I did that we would still be here next Tuesday.

I rushed off and stuck it on Twitter before I could change my mind.

People were nice.  I don’t care if they were lying.  I’ll take what I can get.

And you have to admit that despite the short comings of the model, the dress rocks.

And it has awoken my interest in clothing again, so I might dust down a few items from the wardrobe and start to get more playful in future.  And I might even turn the light on when I get dressed, and possibly brush my hair.

Although that might be going a bit far.

Advertisement