snap happy

They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder. 

I learned last night that the Biblical phrase 'the apple of the eye' is also translated from the Hebrew as 'the little man in the eye'-the idea being that your eyes reflect what you see literally and psychologically, that they truly are the window to the soul. 

Because surely what we see is what we are looking for-hence Jesus's annoyance with the religious leaders of his time who looked for splinters in the eyes of others when they had planks in their own eyes: the blind trying to lead the blind.

Two conclusions-I'm going to have to be more careful about the T.V. I watch if its written on my face, and [I admit this is slightly tenuous and fanciful] my new camera must have a beautiful soul because it makes whatever I shoot beautiful-it brings out the best of whatever direction I point it in. 

Perhaps this is because its previous owner [my brother] used it for noble purposes-to capture, close up, the beauty of nature, the dust and drama of Afghanistan and, of course, the smiles of his fiancee, friends and family. At any rate, it is one of the best birthday presents ever and I greatly enjoyed  putting it through its paces on some of my creations-see photos above!

Merci, lil bro x

like mother, like daughter?

Question. Do you and your mum share the same style?

 [apologies guys, this post looks like it is one for the girls]

I know a mother and daughter who have amazing dress sense. I always look forward to seeing what they wear each week at church, and they are an inspiration to dress stylishly-like post-it notes on legs reminding me that being well presented isn't just for my own benefit, it makes everyone happy...

Whilst their style is not dissimilar and does overlap-I bet they pinch each others clothes now and then- they do have their own personal tastes too. The mother always looks amazing and polished in a shift dress whilst the daughter [who is in her early 20s] tends towards a more casual but still elegant look with skinny jeans or a denim mini. 

So when it came to jewellery I was intrigued to find that whilst mother commissioned me to make her a string of pearl globe beads separated by white organza ribbon, her daughter opted for the same pearly goodness in the form of a simple, more casual pendant-a single pearl globe suspended on a long brass chain.  The pieces have a very different feel to them-one haute couture, the other high fashion, even though they have the same roots. 

Perhaps style, then, is hereditary. We are, after all, cut from the same cloth! Which means I can look forward to being attired in cashmere, khaki and statement necklaces. And that is fine with me...

I've created an option to commission these pieces in my etsy shop-

just click on this link to go there

moth & magpie 

Car Boot Sale II - a kiss and a paste pot

A KISS AND A PASTE POT

raw metal-a gift from a gentleman's treasure trove

There is something poignant, melancholy, fascinating and tragic about a car boot sale. It is a form of biography, or indeed obituary. Along with the sellers clearing out the possessions which have come to possess their saturday mornings are the folks who deal in house clearance, disposing with the estate of those who have recently passed away. Hence the boxes of faded sepia family photos, baby's first shoes, Granny's prized tea-set and carefully hoarded tat. The stories of the dead seem to speak louder that those of the still living, and it is as if every floor-cast teapot grasped on bended knee, being rubbed will induce a genie type promise of being the next keeper of its secrets, and with it the next link in the heady beat of history. Or, more morbidly, one becomes the holder of someone else's 'poor Yorick' the clay form fighting the earth from whence it came, full of the spirit and memory of its previous owner.

corals from the estate of a polish artist and her billionaire russian husband

I'm enjoying making my own memories and stories at the car boot sale itself. Today something different happened. At the far corner of the field is a man who sells all manner of old bottles, pots, ceramics, clay pipes-the type of things you'd find in a Victorian rubbish tip. I expect most of it has actually been dug up or mudlarked, but who knows! I was rummaging in one plastic box, dusty hot in the late morning sun, all dirt and tangled jewellery, picking out a few broken chains. The owner asked if I'd found any gold yet, and I placed some gleaming chains in his hand. I'm not sure why I did this, usually I'd joke along then go and sell the gold-that is the job of a dealer, after all. This time I said 'yes', and the gentleman seemed as surprised by my honesty as I was. Turned out his sight was very bad, so he couldn't see what he was selling. He'd have run straight off to sell it all to the man who buys gold at the other side of the field and come back to split the takings with me, but it turned out he was disabled and couldn't walk that far, so I offered to go instead. Remarking to him that I'd not have been honest were it not for feeling rich since knowing Jesus, it occurred to me that at that moment I was far far richer than I'd have been had I done the done thing of keeping quiet and selling the gold for scrap. I cannot tell you how overjoyed the gentleman was, probably more due to unexpected candor than some extra cash- I was showered with hugs and a kiss and a paste pot and an oddly shaped lump of shining metal from his treasure trove, not to mention half of the gold money..... I think that simple, chipped, humble little paste pot will become more of a treasure to me than anything else I've found today; it keeps within it the memory of a wonderful moment shared with a dear old man safe forever.

the greatest treasure of all- a simple white paste pot

This field- a racecourse- is aptly named as the 'knavesmire'-not just for the fool who bets his savings on a horse, but the punter who gambles on making a profit from a purchase. Many times I've won, many times I've lost. I've even left spoils of battle in the field. Somewhere there is a single diamante clip earring, as big as a penny, as bright as a headlight. Perhaps its healthy to leave a gleaning, the remnant of a post harvest gloating session, as I'm lying in the long grass and basking in the midday sun, wondering how on earth I'm going to get everything home, and already imagining how I'm going to display or sell it. The thing about trying to buy the past, or attempting to secure your future from the oversight, ignorance or generosity of a vendor; the thing about setting your wit and wisdom against every other dealer there, is that it does not leave you unchanged. Or rather it brings out, in one single clear note, the hidden and undergirding treasures of ones heart-'for where your treasure is,there will your heart also be'[matthew 6:21].

More often than not, it shows me my covetousness; today it also showed me how gracious God has been to me...

'freely you have received; freely give' matthew 10:8

my favourite thing...

Riddle: I spend my Saturday mornings tearing across a grassy field in my scruffiest clothes alongside like-minded individuals who I am none-the-less competing aggressively against. Its a great social experience but I'm there primarily for the win. Afterwards, I collapse, content and exhausted, into the long green grass and mull over the triumphs of the morning. I bemoan the one that got away. I gloat over the sneaky victory. I replay the key moments in my mind.

And yet I hate football, or any sport, for that matter.

Guessed it yet? I'm talking about Car Boot Sales. That glorious British tradition of stuffing a car full of junk and offloading it onto a bargain hunter such as myself after the exchange of hard-won cash. 

Here is my beloved York Racecourse car boot,
 viewed from the corner of the field
where I was sunning myself with my haul. 

Always an abundance of tea-cups

Who remembers tupperware?

[see first photo for this weeks trophies, including an antique antler complete with natural post-fight wonky mend, vintage post office sacks from train mail cars, and the most austere of grey square boxes on which is simply stamped 'please return to Carmelite monastary, Preston'. I can only assume this is not a plea to a runaway monk/primate[why are high-catholic officials called primates but monks don't get to be called monkeys-the world makes no sense].

p.s. If you like the look of my organic, neutral toned antique finds, head over to my vintage shop www.yorkvintage.co.uk or pop in to my mini-shop at The Flax and Twine on The Shambles, York [where I am selling the lush yellow embroidered linen laundry bag, amongst other treasures]

Love is blind - my latest eco-packaging

I just wanted to show off my latest eco - packaging! 

I boxed up the antique wooden cherub I was sending to Switzerland, padding it soundly with pages ripped from an Edwardian book. 

So far, so Ruth. Then the fun really began. 

I'd found a discarded brown paper blind outside an office in York.  It made really fun vintage looking packaging, which I sealed with gummed paper tape usually used for sealing picture frames. I've stamped this tape with my shop name to make it look more professional.  I wonder if my Swiss customer will guess the origin of the wrapping paper? The biggest giveaways are the stripy lines and the punched holes through which a string was threaded to operate the blind. Oh, and maybe this blog post. 

Just goes to show the sky is the limit. 

I'd love to know what you use and if you have any ideas of what else I could be looking out for!

tonight tonight won't be just any night

All settled in at the Flax and Twine on the Shambles, York. Can't believe I'm selling antiques and vintage on one of the most historic and ancient streets in England. The shops are all medieval, all wonky beams and timeworn wood with tiny glass window panes and low low doorways.

My shop came together last night, thanks to my amazing new trolley [thank you, Knavesmire car boot sale!] and lots of orange squash thanks to the lovely ladies Katie and Maureen at Flax and Twine, who make everything beautiful. They even let me set my treasures up in an old pidgeonhole type shelf unit, so I've created a series of vignettes.

Tonight is the grand opening: I wonder what will sell first[lay your bets here]!

 

english roses and seafoam marble

a taste of italy



all white on the night



of butterfly wings and seashells



marbellous pots!



York Vintage gets real!

*YORK...THE PLACE WHERE DREAMS COME TRUE*

Its only been a couple of weeks since I opened my new online Etsy shop       

York Vintage  but already something very exciting is developing: 

no less than a pop-up shop at The Flax and Twine on the Shambles, York's oldest and most historical street. 

I'll be selling some great unique vintage and antique objets d'art, plus some carefully selected items of vintage furniture. The grand opening is next Friday evening [7th June] so do pop along if you fancy a browse. 

Can't quite believe this is happening, very excited to have my own real life retail space right in the heart of historic York. Excuse me whilst I pinch myself - again.

Ow - its real.