The wonderful Curtise sent me a parcel containing a fabulous lame dress with the grooviest of vintage labels. I couldn't wait to get it on my back but despite it looking great off, once on my body it was a different matter entirely.
I wasn't wearing the frock, the frock was wearing me and something had to be done.
I thought about hacking it off to mini length, but the hips weren't flared enough for that, so out came the seam rippers and off came the sleeves.
Bare arms are much more me.
Also in the parcel were these fabulously garish etched glass Spanish dancers (which are already adorning the Wall Of Random) and a gloriously retro postcard. Curtise, have I told you lately that I love you?
Can you believe these brand new boots were a quid from the car boot yesterday?
I also picked up this little lot:
I did get much,much more but opted for an afternoon in the sun rather than a photographing marathon.
The car boot sale on a Thursday is full of antique dealers offloading their house clearance detritus. These all came from the estate of an elderly lady who was an inveterate hoarder. They had been bought in the 1960s and 1970s never been worn or enjoyed, which made both me and the dealers very sad.
It's a quiet night in the garden with rum and coke and Jon's special pizza tonight, I want to be up early for the Saturday boot sale.
Have a fab weekend!