To be honest...

...over the summer I felt the heaviness from the shadows that hover behind, they tell the me within, that my old foe is furtively watching. I should know better, here is the signal whereby I should let myself relax out of hours and allow Larry and others to help me out. But admitting to my frailties only feeds the angst and guilt that I am not wonderwife and instead wimpywife. Yes! I know this is silly, an untruth, but this is what the menopausal head screams.

I fill myself up with errands, small projects and I tend never to say No! to anything. This only becomes a problem when it mounts up and then I find it more difficult than usual to juggle it all.

I have taken on 3 book reviews for a readers' magazine. I am also on the panel reading 6 books on the long list for a National Book Award. I have just started a computer course for work at college, 3 hours a week for 32 weeks, which all seem to fall on my days off, resulting in more juggling and stressing. I recently decided to not stop my online business, but to relaunch it with all new stock. My choice I know, but I do enjoy it so. Then I was approached last month by a feature editor to be the contributor for fashion feature for the Christmas edition. How can l say No? Hours of pressing and sewing and getting the clothing accessorized. I am enjoying it. But it doesn't all fit in my cup. It doesn't just overflow its a bloody Tsunami and it's all in my head. Hence a minor series of panic attacks. Brain freeze. Coping with the daily routine is getting on my wick. At work I am distracted by focusing on the one job. But at home, I begin to show the cracks. To cook, to clean. Chores indeed. The shine has worn off the new home. The kids seem to avoid me at all costs. They must know instinctively Mum's having a mental! I've taken to going to bed early. I waken, thinking, Can I stay here please?

I know what to do. So I make a list of all the things I am currently doing. I cull the list. Leaving what will give me most pleasure. And which will be the easiest and less stressful to manage. I divide them up into bite size chunks. The Do-able. And the not do-able. Put aside for later. Or never. My mind is less cluttered. A path is clear.

I have this space where I can go now. Here. I can write my thoughts and publish. Or not! I can return and read my mess. To share or not to share. Is this depression or just menopausal madness?

Two days later... I have an appointment with my doctor fixed. Just to check up. Today was photo-shoot day. It began with NeRvEs. But I knew everything was ready. Then all hell broke loose, one hour early they phoned, they are on their way. They arrived. One journo, one photographer, two teen models, two hairdressers, one make-up artist and one stylist. Thankfully my pal Carlotta arrived with milk and a smile. She shored me up, 'It's okay you CAN do this,' she said. 'Feeling crappy or not. This is something positive, for you.' We were both dressed in our vintage finery, and fixed, fitted and flattered. No one took our picture. We made tea, made smiles and made happy. The sofa was in the garden for time, a model in 50's green satin stood pretty amongst four toning green conifers. They primped, preened and posed in a cocktail bar, a Chinese garden and a motorway flyover! wtf?? One model in a bronze metallic creation, wore her Uggs while her hair was teased up high, out came the Dyson and this image the photographer thought was edgy, so this may end up on the editing floor or in the magazine. (Will post images as soon as I get them end of November-ish).

They arrived at 10am and left and 6.45pm.

I feel quite tired, chilled and unfazed. Or is this the one glass of ice cold rose wine I just sunk?

All will be well. I know this to be true.

As the man said. Hold on.*

*James Frey, A Million Little Pieces

Reopening soon!

Since 2002 I have run my own small business, an online vintage clothing website.

www.sarasattic.co.uk

It has grown from strength to strength, mostly in footfall and in profile. It has received favourable reviews from The Sunday Times Culture, Country Living, RED, Daily Mail, webUser and the Independent's magazine voted it the best UK website and 3rd best vintage shop in 2005. I was thrilled.

A business will only give back £'s relative to the amount of time one can contribute to it.

So as I am stretched very thinly around my family,

my employed work and other commitments, this has in recent months taken a back seat.

Therefore early last summer, I took down all the stock,

recycled the majority in true vintage fashion and

kept the best LBD's (little black dresses) and gems.

During the self induced hiatus I mulled, cogitated and mumbled

about the pro's and con's, the why's and wherefores and on my best list making stationary,

I planned and plotted the future worth of my tiny, mini empire.

I reasoned that with 5 million hits in my best years' trading -which averages out to approx 75,000 unique visitors per year, I could make a better go of it.

Plus I had the stock, the experience to add to the visitors

(a decade of fashion buying and retail management)

so as to not let this drift off and flounder altogether.

So! I decided to specialise in Party wear and frocks,

handbags and a few select accessories.

I also decided to relocate the 'Attic' to the Etsy platform.

I respect and admire their ethos of recycling and eco friendly products,

crafts, handmade and vintage. A perfect new home for the Attic.

I have some lovelies to showcase in the new shop very soon,

in fact as soon as the planned photo shoot -all day Monday- is done and dusted.

The shoot is for a Christmas Vintage Party wear

for the new glossy Carlisle Living magazine.

Etsy formats and creates the pages for each item and so gives me more time,

no longer having to resize crop and edit images in several sizes.

Bringing my customers to my new location,

will benefit Etsy and potentially all the other shops on Etsy.

Drop by soon and see what you think of the new Attic and Etsy itself.

Be very careful, you can indecently while away the hours on Etsy,

at every click you will be in the den of beauty and wonders!

The magic of old things

Hosted by Cecily and MamaGeek

I have once again been inspired to consider and write about a topic discussed on this blog. The post asked the question, 'is there beauty in decay?' and I was thinking about this and why l like old things, the vintage clothes,  authentically distressed furniture, beautiful tea cups and saucers, old vanity items, the bold colours & prints of vintage silk scarves, to name but a few of my favourite things.

My mother is a lover of antique and junk shops and having followed her on endless outings I firmly caught the 'bug' at an early age. In fact my parents ran an antique shop for a time and I was their first customer as I recall I bought a cut glass perfume bottle, which I still have on my dresser. I like nothing better than walking into a shop, a market or a charity shop, wondering what treasure I will find and pondering on what I will be leaving with in my bag.

l love tactile old fabrics in jewel colours, velvet, devore, taffeta , chiffon, rayon, silk. My husband thinks I'm not a little weird in that I seem to him to live in the past, (pot, kettle, black,  spring to mind) and perhaps I do or is it that I'm afraid of change? I think both may be true in small part, but it is much more than that ...

I love the history,

the possible stories,

the hidden secrets,

a life lived in full,

the glamorous nights and a sweet tryst

hidden amongst the frills, pleats and bows.

l may have a silk scarf tied to my bag today or be wearing an old silk petticoat under that LBD (little black dress), which I'm thinking of wearing to the  Christmas dinner.

The dress, the bag, the scarf, they keep the secrets of a lady who once danced, who sang, who loved, who dreamt, who cried...

It may be a bold bark cloth printed skirt from the 50's or a confetti lucite box bag which harks back to a love lost or a friendship made, these are all memory keepers.

This fills me up, like the pages of a good book, like the warmth and comfort wrought from a roaring fire in the dark of a winter evening. Or like the light cast by the candle  in the night, evoking what may be, what could be,  what should be.

I don't inderstand the horror when people are aghast that I may be wearing a dead persons clothes .... LOL, I know I probably am, whether it is a 1940's dress, a 1930's coat or a flapper opalescent string of twinkling glass beads or a fine silk pouch bag, they are most likely the items of a woman no longer living.

Or perhaps they are sitting in a favourite comfortable armchair, staring into the fire and beyond, reminiscing about the party they once attended, wearing my dress, carrying my bag and being whirled around the dance floor or terrace, stolen moments.

There is the shadow cast from a young woman's whimsical dream, the yearning and the hope bound up in the weave of the fabric's lifetime.

When I'm alone, I often make a pot of tea in a 1930's earthenware teapot, which has a decorated band around the top of pastel flowers. I lay a tray with a cloth and place an assortment of mismatched china out and enjoy a long cup of tea or two. I like the experience, the comforting warm feeling it evokes within me. It is also a little self spoiling , which is what every good -or bad- woman needs. Cherish and indulge your good self.

I recently read a new edition of a fiction book originaly printed in 1936 and this too made me wonder if my grandmother, who was a voracious reader, may have read it. I'm now on a mission to find an original copy, just to have the essence of nostalgic veneer of things past in the present. It's all in in there somewhere, life's rich tapestry.

I find it fascinating and it pulls me in...

Hosted by Cecily and MamaGeek

A contender for post of the day at Authorblog, thanks again for the mention David!

ABC WEDNESDAY - i is for....

... I-con

to be frank I had trouble on this one, all I could t

hink of was ICE, but l couldnt find any of my own images

 to go with it, and that IS the point right, that its our own photos!?

So l reached for my old faithful the Collins Concise tome and looked for inspiration...ah too late now!

Here is a well known and loved Icon, The Princess of Wales, 

unfortunately I cannot find the photos I have of her, 

which I took when she visited my home town of Canterbury at the  Cathedral in the early 1980's. 

However I do have this, 

an I-conic  vintage Jacques Azagury designer dress from my Vintage store, 

well it isn't anymore as I'm keeping it! 

The original was sold in the now famous auction of many of her dresses.

Ballerina length dress with black bodice  

embroidered with blue stars.  

The drop waisted skirt is a double layer of blue organza. 

Designer: Jacques Azagury

...and this is my dress

http://wednesdayabc.blogspot.com/

Don't forget to stop by Mr.  LINKYat Mrs.Nesbits place, to see "i" posts from all around the world. And....we'd all love it if you left comments, or, even better, if you want to join the fun.

My first day of school

Yes I do remember it and another thought provoking question from David Authorblog to stimulate the grey cells!

I was barely four in Sept' 1962 as I was an August baby. (My mother, moannie & MEG , has just written a comment to correct me, I was five!) She handmade me, I remember her sitting stitching it, a grey flannel skirt with straps. My parents made a big fuss of me being so grown up and I was excited but apprehensive too, as there were no nurseries etc to acclimatise us to big school in those days.

I remember walking into this huge brightly lit room, and being asked to sit at a table in the front of the class next to the teachers desk. Everyone else was already in class, l didn't understand why.

The teacher had a wide smile and big teeth, I can see her now. She smelt of cigarette smoke and the thick powder which covered her face. I was always mesmerised by her heavily powdered skin and face. She kept a powder compact and a packet of cigarettes on her desk. I remember the packet had picture of a bearded sailor or stuck through a navy and gold circle, Players l think? She coughed a lot.
I stayed in this teachers' class, whose name for the moment escapes me, as the other kids went up a class I stayed with her, I liked her a lot, she was kind and encouraged me and I soon caught up with my contemporaries. It was my first feeling of inferiority. I remember her very clearly but not so the other pupils. I can only remember their reaction to me when I had caught fleas, from one of them! They called me flea bag forever or so it seemed. On a Friday afternoon we would all squeeze into Mr. Hake's class for story time, my favourite time of the week. I was happy when I left.

We emigrated to Canada in '66 and then moved to Mexico in '67, by the time I returned to the UK system in late '68, I was well behind the others. I soon lost interest and the study ethic and I never really found it until my 40's. I now study with the Open University and I love it!