It's So Easy ... Sometimes

Wonderful, drenching rain means tea, crusty old movies, hot scones and sewing.
Thankfully we've had plenty of it all here so I'm feeling rather smug and happy.
And bloated.

This is one of the three-skirt bargains I picked up from the Red Cross op-shop last week where I bought three skirts for $10.
The waistband on this one was too small so I unpicked it, added some fabric to the waistband, re-did the gathering to fit my waist, then sewed it back on.
The next day I got a blood-bomb and my waist shrunk a couple of inches. 
WTF is that about?
So I unpicked the sodding thing, re-made the waistband, re-gathered the skirt and sewed the fucker back together.
This skirt is lucky I love it, despite it reminding me of the 80s when I didn't have a pre-menstrual waistline like saggy elastic.

These two don't have to worry about such news-dominating issues.

1970s Coffey movie t-shirt - Creative Markets
1950s tapestry handbag - gift from my beautiful sister, Merilyn

Fishnet t-shirt - online sale

Skirt - Red Cross

Shoes - vintage market

Jewellery - Camberwell Market and op shops

Tights - both from Sock Dreams

Getting as much wear out of this wee dear until my waistline explodes again.

Some skirts are kinder than others and there's really nothing more comfortable than a Franken-Skirt.

It's a t-shirt in a skirt and if you need to rustle one up in a flash, here's how:

Grab a guy's t-shirt (bloke's t-shirts are WAY cooler than chick's ones).

Cut the sleeves off.

Slice the top off.

Sew up what's left of the armholes.

Grab some stretch fabric and cut a rectangle that will fit around your waist and stretch over your hips.

Sew the ends together to make a circle.

Fold the circle in two, wrong sides together.

Zig-zag the waistband to the top of the t-shirt, stretching the band to fit the skirt.

Put the skirt on.

Do a dance.

Here's some music.

Sequin top, Marvel t-shirt - op shops

Gold lion necklace - gift from lovely Miss Ada

Boots - second hand from local boot maker

Leggings - Black Milk

You're welcome.

Love Desiree xox

Linking to Patti's Visible Monday.

I'm Everywhere I've Ever Been

It's Saturday night and hey, I'm not going to lie to you.
I'm staying in.
My body is home but my feet are dancing.
Beads and feathers are flying around the room.
In my mind, I'm somewhere no one has ever been before.
It's every gig I've been to.
Every music festival I've danced at without a care.
It's every movie I've fallen into.
Every flower I've smelled.
The loved ones I've hugged too long.
Every book I've drowned in.
Feathers.  Beads.  Sparkle.  Sequins.  Blackened  eyes.
Check back in an hour and I'll be somewhere else.

1950s sequin and bead top, granny beads, white handbag, hair flower, bangles - thrifted

Feather skirt - Glitters for Dinner

Shoes, pink cameo ring - markets

Pink star necklace - from beautiful Krista

FREEKY necklace - custom made by Phussy

Tights - Sock Dreams

Tapestry bag and earrings - Dandelion Vintage sale

Get ya freek on.
Now.
Baci,
Desiree xoxo

Beryl the Peril

My Nana's name was Beryl.
One of her secret nicknames was Beryl the Peril, which seemed to suit her.
If she'd ever found out, we would have been given a mighty tongue-lashing from that tiny woman who drove her 1960s Mini Cooper, well into her 80s, like an absolute demon.
She died a natural death a few years ago, at almost 100.
I can't say I loved her, but I admired her tenacity and spunk, spending most of her busy days fending off would-be thieves and no-goods apparently dead set on ripping her off.

I've seen a photo of her as a schoolgirl, not long before she married and started a family in Invercargill, New Zealand (knocked-up-at-16-to-devastatingly-handsome-motorcyle-tearaway).

She looked a right "sort" and there's something about these pics of me wearing this original 1920s silk frock that reminds me of her.

Beryl approved of a woman in a modest frock.

I got to know Beryl best during the 1970s and right up until her death in 2006, she was absolutely mad about wearing and surrounding herself with bright colours.
She frequently boasted about her thrifty shopping habits, of buying most of her clothes from op shops, flaunting her fluorescent red and green pairs of crimpolene "slacks" to the world.
She knew she looked fabulous and no-one was going to argue with her.

But I always felt there was something about her that teetered on the edge of maniacal religious sectarianism and pant-less table-top dancing.
In fact I know she would have approved of my frockage and forgiven my saucy glimpse of lacy scanties.

Beryl would never in a million years have approved of a bottle-blond slattern with her roots on display.
But she would have been glad I had a clean hanky and giant clips to "keep your hair off your face".

1920s silk frock - Niddie's Rag & Bone Shop

Johnny Cash earrings - made by Mallory of Create Beautiful Beads

My wedding wrist corsage from October, 2011

Vintage tapestry bag and bangles - thrifted

1940s snakeskin handbag - vintage shop in NZ

Suede shoes - found

Beryl, you were a very strange woman and a scary grandmother, yet a tough and fascinating person.
I don't miss you, but I do think about you this time every year, as you lay in peace beside your own mother.
Baci,
Desiree xo