Of Being Back In Time

Last Thursday, I went back in time. Really. Well, so nearly really that it actually felt like I'd stepped back a few decades, to a time when men wore smart hats over brill-creamed hair and women wouldn't step outside without a pair of gloves and a swipe of lipstick. In other words, I took a trip on a steam train along the Severn Valley Railway. The SVR runs sixteen miles, from Kidderminster in Worcestershire to Bridgnorth in Shropshire, passing through some absolutely stunning countryside along the way. Several years ago, during a camping trip to Norfolk, I went on the Wells and Walsingham Light Railway:

As you can see, it's very cute, but although I remember this baby steam train being a lot of fun, it doesn't have proper carriages, so hardly has the same power to transport one back in time like the SVR, which really made me feel like I was one of The Railway Children. If I'd been wearing red flannel petticoats, believe me, I'd have been tempted to tear them off and start waving them as flags.

Managing to restrain my impulses to follow Jenny Agutter's example and attempt some impromtu sephamore, I sedately followed my mother into the first class carriage (at £3 each way for the upgrade, it was well worth it to have a proper little compartment all to ourselves!) and settled down to enjoy the ride. A red-faced, white-bearded guard came and checked our tickets, offered us a toffee (this never normally happens to me on trains!) and we were off into the beautiful countryside, the rhythmic chug and puff of the train signalling our passage.

The SVR has several station stops between Kidderminster and Bridgnorth, but although some of them sounded tempting, we had decided to travel straight through, so that we could enjoy a leisurely lunch in the Shropshire town, and, as the weather was so good (it was a glorious, warm day with bright blue skies and hardly any clouds), a little stroll around after our meal. Nevertheless, we enjoyed peering out of the carriage at the towns and villages, fields and woods as we passed by...

I also found out what it really means to be smutty, as I wiped the little dabs of flakey soot from my hands after they flew in through the window as I stared out!

Apart from the lovely vistas (sadly I still had no camera, hence the reliance on stock photos from the SVR website), we were also thrilled by the variety of wildlife that was prancing around outside. From partridges to pheasants, lambs to galloping horses, we saw it all. And I mean all. There were even elephants, a couple of rhinos, and a herd of reindeer. I kid thee not. Well, we did pass by the West Midland Safari Park, after all...!

The journey to Bridgnorth took about an hour, but it seemed no time at all before we arrived at the station:

Here, however, it looked like our journey might end, with dreams of lunch and sunlit strolls being catapulted out of our minds thanks to a sudden confrontation with a Rather Large suspension bridge. As some of you might remember, I have a little problem called vertigo, and I could tell at a glance that this bridge and I were not going to be friends. A little fingerpost pointed across the bridge proclaiming 'Bridgnorth Town Centre', and the rest of the train's passengers were trouping merrily across. I, however, cowered against the wall and felt slightly foolish as I wondered whether I would ever manage to join them. From my position against the stones, however, with the quick eye of a vertigo sufferer (it makes you very fast at figuring out alternate routes, or, rather, escape routes!), I had already noticed the line of cars next to the platform. They had definitely not come across the scarily high footbridge, so I knew there must be another way across. I started to feel a bit more hopeful. My optimism was rewarded when my mum returned from a scouting expedition with a charming young porter, who led us towards a nice gentle path out of the little railway carpark and down the hill to the main road below, with no sudden drops or vertiginous bridges in sight. I breathed a sigh of relief, and we set off.

Although we were keen to explore the pretty town, the call of our stomachs was stronger, and our first stop was lunch at a nice little brasserie on the High Street. Suitably replenished, we set off to admire the local sights, such as the Town Hall on stilts...

... and the beautiful church hidden away down a winding little lane:

As we pottered around, my eye was caught (naturally) by a sign for a vintage clothing and accessories shop called The Looking Glass. Venturing inside, we found a veritable treasure trove of vintage and reproduction clothing ranging from the 1920s through to the 1970s, as well as some contemporary hats, gloves, and jewellery. My eye was immediately caught by some stunning reproduction 1920s dresses hanging outside the one little changing room. Long, thin, and black, they were intricately beaded with silver decorations in the most fantastic patterns. Some of the most spectacular designs were influenced by the Art Deco craze for Egyptian style designs that came after the dramatic discoveries of the archaeological expeditions of the 1920s and '30s. The reproduction dresses were beautiful, and had been hand-made in India by families using traditional techniques, and sold under Fair Trade contracts to ensure they were being produced ethically. Mindful of the upcoming white tie New College Ball in June, I tried some on. They were gorgeous, and made me feel as if I'd stepped straight out of a Poirot novel. I was deeply tempted. But which one to choose? Time was ticking by and we needed to be back at the station to catch the steam train back to Kidderminster. I ummed and aahed and tried three dresses on again in a bid to make my mind up (decision making is not always my strongest point). Just as I was considering trying the first dress on for the third time, the lovely lady whose shop it was re-emerged from the back of the shop where she had been rummaging through the rails, clutching a shimmering bundle of taffeta. 'I don't want to confuse you even further', she said, 'but I couldn't resist showing you this one'. I took the dress from her hands and slipped it on. Instantly, I knew it. It was too big, but still, I knew. I had found my dress. I won't describe it now, apart from to say it's an original evening gown from the 1930s, and -- of course -- that I think it's very beautiful. But a proper description (with photos!) will have to wait until the ball itself. I'm not always a great fan of vintage clothes, but I must say that with this dress I'm glad to have my mind changed. I'm ridiculously excited about getting the alterations done and trying it on again, and even more excited about wearing it to the ball itself. And it's fitting, perhaps, that a 1950s steam train should lead me even further back in time to a 1930s dress! I really hadn't had any idea of finding the dress in Bridgnorth, and had actually been planning to slog around the London shops to try to find something. Such unlooked for treasures are always extra-special, and I am at one with Sir W in his 1600 essay 'Of Censuring' when he says that:

'I like them the better because vnexpected'.

Of A Happy Easter

I hope you've all been enjoying as lovely an Easter weekend as I have! I'm at home for ten days of holiday at the moment, and have been indulging in some festive treats. I was very pleased to make the acquaintance of this little fellow yesterday, who is (almost) too cute to eat:

After a lovely Easter Sunday lunch at home with my mum and grandparents yesterday, today my mum and I made a trip up into the beautiful Peak District. Our destination was the charming estate village of Tissington in Derbyshire, about an hour's drive away, and a favourite place to visit when I'm at home. Crossing over the cattlegrid that marks the village boundary, it feels rather as if one has driven into a picture postcard. Pretty, grey-stoned cottages cluster at the head of the main street...

... a picturesque church perches atop a little hill ...

... and crowning it all is the stunning Tissington Hall, still privately owned by the Fitzherbert family, as it has been since the fifteenth century. The current Hall dates from 1609, and I can just imagine Sir W emerging from the gateway:

As we came into the village, Mum and I were pleased to spy signs directing us to a craft fair, and we wandered along past the duck pond towards the school house, which today was playing host to a variety of stalls selling hand-made gifts and local produce. Although I was tempted by a very cute little pair of turquoise and purple wrist warmers, I didn't actually buy anything, although it was fun to browse the tables and admire the workmanship on display. After exploring this unexpected little distraction, we were starting to feel rather peckish. Happily, the Hall's former coach house has been converted into a wonderful tea room...

... so we wandered back over the road to enjoy a lovely ploughman's lunch -- plates filled with delicious thick-cut ham from the village butcher, and yummy chunks of Stilton and Cheddar with a scrumptious home-made chutney for a bit of extra kick.

The Old Coach House was doing a good business, full of Bank Holiday visitors who were enjoying the Easter sunshine: walkers in their wax jackets and wellies with shiny-eyed dogs at their heels, and parents laughing with their children as they paddled together in the stream that runs through the village. This stream flows down the main street towards the pond, passing through the main well in the village on the way. There are six wells altogether in Tissington, and the village is known for its well dressing ceremony, which takes place every year in May. As you can see from these photos of the well dressing celebrations in 2000, the flower displays are often very intricate:

People come from far and wide to see the well dressing, and I remember going as a little girl, and loving the bright colours and beautiful floral pictures. Although there were no such works of art to admire today, the village was still looking very pretty, with its daffodils and snowdrops creeping through the grass. Sadly I still haven't got round to buying a new camera, so I can't share any photos of today's blooms, nor of the woolly little lambs who were frisking and gamboling in the fields across the wall!

Tissington is home to a couple of great little shops, but unfortunately neither of them was open today, which seemed like a bit of a missed opportunity. Normally I enjoy popping in for a look around the candle workshop, with its displays of beautiful wax creations, although as I have a couple at home already, it's probably no bad thing I couldn't be tempted by any more! I particularly like the hurricane candles, which have beautiful flowers trapped beneath the wax. With a little tea light popped inside, the effect is utterly charming. I have one quite similar to these two sitting just across from me in my bedroom as I type:

The other shop is a wonderful little treasure trove called Acanthus, which sells beautiful homewares, lighting, and gifts. I was rather disappointed not to be able to call in there today, but no doubt there'll be other opportunities!

All in all it was a lovely breath of fresh air, and I always enjoy the drive through Derbyshire, as the countryside starts becoming wilder and hills and peaks start appearing. After a rather hectic end to term, I was more than glad of a chance to blow the cobwebs away. I'll be sharing some more stories from the start of my break before long, but for the moment at least, Sir W may well say of me (to take a few words from his 1601 essay 'Of Natures pollicie') that I have:

'arriued at some good end of her trauailes'.

Of Kitty Cooper

I think anyone who has cast even a casual glance over my blog will have probably realised that I Like Shoes. A Lot. You can imagine my delight, therefore, when I made a new footwear discovery this morning. Thanks to the treasure trove that is Daily Candy, I have made the acquaintance of Kitty Cooper and her wonderfully glamourous shoes. Kitty Cooper graduated with a first-class degree from the Cordwainer's Institute (part of the London College of Fashion), and has since set up her own business designing stunning shoes which are produced in an eco-friendly way. Now, I don't know about you, but when I think of eco-friendly fashion, my heart always sinks just a little bit, as my imagination conjures up images of tired looking, tie-died t-shirts or dresses made from straw with a belt of chewed up string. Recently, however, I've been forced to think again, not least thanks to Livia Firth's blog for British Vogue recounting her experiences dressing for the red carpet (Livia is the wife of Colin Firth) using only ethically produced, eco-friendly fashion. As you can see from the stunning dress by Orsola de Castro that she wore to the Oscars the other weekend, Livia has shown that one certainly doesn't need to forego style when salving one's conscience:

To be honest, the fact that Kitty Cooper's shoes are produced from recycled materials (such as vintage curtains, buttons, and cottons salvaged from the 1910s through to the 1960s), is -- for me -- merely an added bonus compared to their sheer gorgeousness. Her collection is only fairly small, but some of the designs are available in more than one pattern or colour combination.

These, made from a 1960s cotton, are ridiculously sweet for a summer's day:

Chovey, £245

These just conjure up pictures of garden parties and summer fetes: what could be more fun than matching the strawberries you're about to pop in your mouth with a couple on your toes? Just be careful not to get stuck in the grass with those killer heels:

Ginnie, £269

If you want to make a statement, this shocking pink and green combo would be a good way to go about it...

Nanti, £255

... while if you can cope with the towering heels, the breezy blue of this 1950s pattern would be a refreshing look on a summer's day:

Didicoy, £325

I am more than a little in love with the beautiful floral print on these little stunners...

Luke, £280

... while the naughty nautical style of these makes me think they're something the girls at Crumpet & Skirt would wear...

Rich, £325

... and this amazing pair with their 1910 ribbons would really make sure you stood out from the crowd:

Rose Lee, £319

Sadly, my excitement has been tempered slightly by the rather hefty price tags attached to these beautiful creations, so I think they may have to remain in the lust-after category, rather than filling one of the empty spots in my summer shoe closet. Even if buying them would be helping save the planet (well, ok, not quite). Still, a girl can dream, even if (to quote Sir W in his 1601 essay 'Of Complements) my purse won't quite stretch to

'the lengthning of my joyes, not a foote'.

Of Janet Hill Studio

I've fallen a little bit in love with Etsy over the past few months, and I thought I'd share with you one of the reasons why. I bought this beautiful print from Janet Hill Studio at the end of last year, and I'm not quite sure why it's taken me so long to get around to telling you about it:

I adore the muted colours, and the 1920s style of the outfit and hairstyle remind me of the divine Phryne Fisher, heroine of the wonderfully fun series of books by Kerry Greenwood, which have beautiful covers illustrated by the very talented Beth Norling:

I can just picture Phryne doing a spot of feather fan dancing!

I was also very pleased with a little pack of Christmas cards I picked up at the same time as the print:

I still need to buy a mount and frame for my print, and I can't wait to see what it's going to look like once it's up on the wall. I've also been browsing the Etsy shop again, and getting tempted to buy a companion piece (or two. Or three). There are some simply gorgeous prints for sale at the moment. I love the blurred, slightly dream-like quality of this one:

These two are both charming, and make me laugh as not even I am (quite) this bad when it comes to dressing for a walk in the country:

I am drawn to both the coolness of nighttime in Manhattan...

... and to the warmth of this picnic in the sun:

This one, entitled 'Elise sips Pastis in Montreal'...

... reminds me somehow of Edward Hopper and his famous depictions of cafe scenes and women in empty rooms:

Hopper is a favourite artist of mine (I really enjoyed an exhibition of his work at Tate Modern a few years ago), and although Janet Hill's work is much lighter in atmosphere, something of the melancholy wistfulness of Hopper's style finds traces in some of Hill's most beautiful paintings:

I love the poignancy of this one -- 'Anthea's Party' -- and the way, as with the rest of Hill's work, you can conjure up an entire story from just one image. This one reminds me too of the work of Marie Laurencin, whose paintings I discovered whilst on holiday in Paris just over a year ago. If you happen to be in Paris, make sure you go to the wonderful Musee de l'Orangerie in the Jardin des Tuileries, and if you do, don't just stop at the gigantic Monet waterlillies on the ground floor, although they are spectacular...

... but wend your way downstairs to see the smaller gems they have hidden away in the basement, like this stunning portrait of Coco Chanel by Laurencin:

I was very excited to discover that prints of this picture are available to buy, and I think one might have to wing its way towards me before too long! But I'll still have room for another one of Janet Hill's, I think. The only problem is deciding which one, for, to quote Sir W in his 1601 essay 'Of Trappes for Fame', I sadly can't quite afford to be one of those people who

'spendeth all his treasure in painting'.

Of Seeing in the Spring

Well, the sunny weather has stayed with us over much of the fortnight (*ahem*) since I promised to get back to posting on here! Today was particularly balmy, and so I enjoyed trying out a new outfit to welcome in the Spring (it will probably be raining again tomorrow, but for today, it's definitely springtime). When my mum visited Oxford a couple of weeks ago, I was excited to find that as a treat she'd brought along a dress and cardigan that she'd picked up for me in one of my favourite shops: Boutique Eleven at the Heart of the Country Shopping Village, just ten minutes down the road from where I live in Staffordshire. A rather large number of the items in my wardrobe (no, we won't ask just how many items there are) come from this charming little shop. As they stock a range of really beautiful and unusual clothes, I seem to get complimented whenever I wear anything I've bought from there -- always a plus. I try to pop in whenever I'm at home, and the lovely lady who runs the shop knows me well enough by now to have an eye for exactly what I'm going to like, and because she usually only gets one of everything in each size, she's often kind enough to keep something back for me if she knows I'm coming up for a visit. Oh, the temptation... So this afternoon, I revelled in sitting in Duke Humfrey's with the sunshine streaming through the old windows and warming my skin in this little number from Sandwich:

It's actually slightly more fitted than it appears on the mannequin, and the streaks of cream and blue lighten up the different shades of brown to give it a real lift: I felt like I should be strolling along a beach in the sunshine eating an ice-cream while I wore it. When the occasional shadow did pass across my desk, I quickly whipped out this cardigan, also by Sandwich:

The photo really doesn't do it justice: in reality, the sludgy grey that appears in this picture is actually a delicious teal to match the stripes in the dress, and it's perfect for a bit of casual cover whenever I am forced to remember that it is still only March. The fact that the cardigan is actually a little bit longer than the dress it's going over also gives a slightly sexier edge to what can often be thought of as a rather boring item of clothing!

Sandwich has become a favourite label of mine since I started shopping at Boutique Eleven: their clothes are always fresh and pretty, and are a great choice for basics with a twist. I discarded my usual heels for once and teamed my new outfit with this cute little pair of flats from Marks and Spencer: I love the combination of camel and black, the patent is practical as well as stylish, and I've spoken before about the fact that I'm a sucker for anything with a bow on it. Sadly I could only find this tiny photo to show you:

I *still* haven't got a new camera sorted out, and, much as I've enjoyed embracing the retro chic of the disposable version (yes, I was pretty amazed to discover they still make them, too), I'm looking forward to getting my hands on something a little more up-to-date. Job for this week, perhaps...

I'll be sharing some more of my favourite fashions with you soon (including the leggings which may make me -- and I never thought I'd write this -- overcome my innate aversion to anything remotely resembling a pair of footless tights). I'm also going to be talking quite a lot about food and drink (never a bad thing, I feel), not to mention flagging up some favourite new websites and blogs and telling you about some recent film and theatre trips. In the meantime, keep your fingers crossed for more of this lovely sunshine -- I want the excuse to bring out some more of my Winter to Spring wardrobe. After all, to give you another weather-related quote from Sir W (this time from his 1600 essay 'Of Aduise'):

'from the Rayes of this sun proceed all blessings'.

Of Getting Back to Business

February, as you can plainly see, was a bit of a black hole where my blog was concerned! March has arrived now, and rather than being 'in like a lion, out like a lamb', as the old saying has it, we have been enjoying a beautifully spring-like, blue-skied day here in Oxford. No post today, but rather a promise that I will be resuming normal service from now on...

Until tomorrow! And let's hope with Sir W (in his 1601 essay 'Of Estimation and Reputation') that for a few days at least, we continue to see the sun

'dispersing his Rayes ouer the world'.

Of The BookBook

Part of the reason I've decided I should start doing some more exercise (hence the pole dancing, *ahem*) is my fear that, thanks to spending the majority of my days hunched over a desk, I am going to turn into a wizened, hump-backed old crone before I hit thirty. It's not just brooding over my books that worries me, either, but also the process of hauling my reading material and laptop to the library in the first place. With my bulging laptop case slung across me, I go along the street veering to one side like a sailing ship struggling against a strong breeze, so actually it's perhaps not my back I need to worry about, but rather one shoulder ending up about five inches higher than the other.

It's not just the physical discomfort that troubles me, however, but also just the inescapable ugliness of my laptop case, which is a very plain, functional black one into which no aesthetic thought has been put whatsoever. I've been thinking for some time about buying something rather prettier to replace it, and having come across these MacBook covers (known as the BookBook) from design company Twelve South, I wonder if my search might be over before it's even started. Twelve South designs accessories exclusively for Mac users, of which I am one (and a very happy convert since my move to my shiny new MacBook at the start of my D.Phil), and I came across them thanks to the ever-wonderful India Knight's Posterous. Do take a look at India Knight's site if you haven't already, by the way, as it's a wonderful source of shopping/present-buying/design/generally tempting information. I also heartily recommend her lovely book The Shops, which is a fantastic shopping guide but also happens to be very well-written and funny. How can you go wrong with a woman who is a fan of Georgette Heyer, the Officina Profumo Farmaceutica di Santa Maria Novella, and eyebrow threading. Anything she suggests is going to be worth checking out (well, ok, she did recommend Ugg Boots in her book, I suppose, but nobody's perfect).

Anyway, to get back to the BookBooks. They're just the right side of kitsch and you can probably tell right away why I like them:

BookBook MacBook cover, $79.99

The inside is all soft and snuggly to cushion your precious little MacBook and the covers are hard and tough to protect it from harm. The website suggests that one of the benefits is that the covers also disguise your MacBook and therefore make it less subject to theft. I'm not sure this would work for me, however: in the circles I move in, something that looks like an old book is probably more vulnerable to wandering hands than a spanking new laptop!

The only problem, of course, is that the BookBook is only a protective cover: I'd still need something to put it in to transport it and my books to and fro. So even if I were to give in to temptation with this little fellow, I'd still be able to seek out a pretty laptop travel case as well. Isn't that what's known as a win-win situation? In any case, surely I can't go wrong in buying something called a BookBook, for, as Sir W said in his 1600 essay 'Of the Obseruation, and vse of things',

'all kindes of bookes are profitable'.