Market Day

Sod unpacking the van from yesterday's vintage fair, a stroll into town to pick up Jon's new glasses and a rummage around the charity shops sounded far more appealing.

After Saturday's snow, the temperature had warmed up a few degrees so I swapped my coat for my beloved velvet jacket and a Dollyrockers corset waist maxi dress printed with supersized paisleys, found by our friends, Lynn & Philip, on a trip to an antique centre on a recent holiday in the Lake District. I was a bit hasty, it was still bastard freezing!

We walk past this fifteenth century archway, which lies beneath the crypt of St Matthew's Parish Church, every time we walk into town but, as with most things that become part of our daily lives, we rarely give it a glance so today I thought I'd stop and share it with you. 

New specs collected and Jon's normal pair left to be reglazed with his new prescription, we'd exhausted Walsall's four remaining chazzas in less than twenty minutes. Some people complain that their high streets are full of charity shops, they should think themselves lucky. Our main shopping street has that many boarded up & empty shops we'd be thrilled with a few more chazzas - anything's better than dereliction.

Instead we had a wander round the market. There's been a town market since 1219 but permission to run a weekly one was granted to William Rufus, the Lord of the manor of Walsall in 1417. In 1818 it was said to be the second largest market in the country dealing with around 2000 pigs a day.

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This is how it looked in the early 1970s when we were kids - in fact I wouldn't be surprised if Jon or me are somewhere in this photo. Everyone visited Walsall market on a Saturday. The market extended from just beneath the church steps way down to local heroine, Sister Dora's statue on The Bridge. There wasn't anything you couldn't get from the market - clothes, shoes, fruit & veg., skinned rabbits and pheasants, toys, tools, fresh fish, books, costume jewellery, make-up, kitchenware & soft furnishings, substandard china from the factories up the road in The Potteries to fabric, key cutting and watch engraving. Special coaches would bringing shoppers in from all over the country and the whole thing had a festival air with traders yelling out their wares and indulging in friendly banter with the crowds.

These days, with a twenty-four hour supermarket dominating the area to the left of the old photo, the market is a shadow of its former self. Asda offers almost everything the market used to, why stand in the cold when you can park up, pile your trolley high with everything from carrots, chicken and beer to buckets, cushions, knickers and wrap dresses. The market might be cheaper but what's cheap when compared to convenience?  I think we're in the minority, still buying all our fruit & veg from the market, indulging in Carry On type humour over the size of cucumbers and staggering back home over Church Hill aka The Hill Of Doom, wondering if we really needed three caulis for a quid.

  

Fortunately Asda doesn't sell everything. Monday's market is the day for Asian fabric, trimmings and ready-mades and there's an air of excitement as the predominantly female crowd rummage through bolts of £1 per metre chiffon, luridly printed polyesters and a veritable rainbow of crushed velvet. 

As we examine cards wrapped in yards of cheerful pom-pom braid, ribbons embossed with sequins and dotted with paisleys, we chat about what we're planning to do with our purchases - trimming a dupatta or a salwar kameez, embellishing a tunic or, in my case, tarting up a patchwork lampshade or a cushion cover.

The ready-made stalls are a sight to behold. The rest of the week the traditional clothing stalls are a drab mass of jumpers, cardigans and pleated skirts with elasticated waists in every shade of grey acrylic. On a Monday it's a rich tapestry of velvet in luscious jewel-like colours, gossamer thin tunics with vibrant embroidered panels and metallic stitched details, glinting in the pale late November sunshine.

Much as I love those knee length velvet tunics with soutache embroidery the style isn't something I'd wear. However I did spot something rather special (and very me) on one of the display mannequins. 

 This soutache adorned black velvet jacket from Pakistan came as part of a suit but with a bit of friendly persuasion the stallholder was kind enough to split the set and sell me the jacket separately. Wouldn't get that in bloody Asda, would you?

Check out my bejewelled bangle and coral ring, a very generous gift from Mel, a lovely fellow trader at yesterday's Moseley Vintage & Retro Fair. Vintage traders are amazing as are our visitors, customers and organisers. I'm going to miss the scene enormously over the next few months!

Right, less of the chat. I'd better go and unpack the van. See you soon!

Sharing with Patti & The Gang for Visible Monday and Style Crone's Judith for Hat Attack#53