It's the little things

Next to hearts, my favourite symbols are stars. I love starry skies, I love to see a starry brooch on a coat, I love to see stars doodled on message pads. 

I especially love finding them in thrift stores, like these large silver earrings from the Out of the Closet thrift store in Los Angeles. They were in a basket on the counter with some scrunchies, a couple of plastic bangles and a broken headband. True, they're not really my style, and they were very tarnished, but I picked them for silver and could see they were made by hand, probably from a sheet of silver rather than moulded. I gave them a good polish this morning and rather liked their emphatic celestial statement. Not one I'd make every day, to be sure, but one I enjoyed on a hot bright Sunday.

 Nearby on the same counter, there was a plastic dish filled with cheap jewellery. I found this brooch in amongst the clatter. 

I thought it was excellent value for a dollar and am fairly certain it will find itself pinned against white or navy blue clothes in the near future. 


The best op shops always have a box or bowl of those little touches that you'll wear for years. A couple days later in the Goodwill store in Culver Hill (maybe?) I spotted this old gem under the counter, biding its time amongst a range of pendants and necklaces. 

Yes, the enamel is chipped and the brass is dull, but the design is beautiful and the wear she's endured makes her all the more lovely to me. Eight dollars was a lot (well, based on her intrinsic value) but I know I'll never see another like her. I wasn't sure how I wear her but I knew I couldn't leave without her. She would, I was certain, add a touch of history and romance on something I own sooner or later. 


I love the little touches. Everyone has their own little touch in some area of their life - adding garlic salt to their minestrone, finishing their grooming with a swipe of creamy beige lipstick,  wrapping a present with two different coloured ribbons. In all the blogs I read, it is the little touches that intrigue and inform me most. 


Another thing I've learnt about on the US blogs is Target. We have Target here but not as our American cousins know it. Our Target is safe and reliable and its range is limited. Last year I enjoyed the Target Liberty pop up store in Times Square but this year I found giant Targets on a our little road trip and did some serious Target trawling. I was mesmerised by the quality and range US Target offers. I found lots of little touches there, including this : 

It's the perfect spotty Saturday bag for keeping safe sunglasses and purses while you haul a huge bag around for groceries and vegetables. Better still, it was very receptive to a little touch of its own. 

Brooch + spotty bag = nice touch. 

The American thrift stores were good to me. In St Matthews Thrift store in Santa Monica (well worth a visit: great range, extremely well priced) I found three silk scarves that cost me a total of $2.50. 

The drug stores were just as helpful. Walgreens offered me touches of two of my favourite cheap cosmetics. 

I love both these products - they render my skin and hair quite pleasant to the touch. 


While the holiday is still fresh for me, I have to say - home is good. It's been nice, unpacking everything, allocating the space in the wardrobe, sleeping in my own bed, making my own breakfast with my own special touches. 

I miss the side order of toast with grape jelly, and I really miss sweet potato fries, but my sister-in-law (an accomplished artist and fabulous cook) made sweet potato salad today that more than satisfied that craving. 

                                              

There's beetroot, carrot and beans in there too. The recipe is from Neil Perry's book, but the almonds are her idea. I thought they were a lovely touch. 

No one was more happy to see him than I

Lovely things happened while I was in the Buddhist op shop on the weekend.

First, while I was idly inching my way through the frock rack, a man in his forties came in, looking for his sister who works in the shop.

"She's just gone up the road," the lady behind the counter advised. The man was with their mum, an elderly lady leaning on a walking stick, gracious and calm in a navy blue frock. Mum and brother agreed they'd go looking for the sister.

As the search party set out, I found a silk floral Laura Ashley frock.
Pretty fabric, silk and fully lined. Things looked hopeful but not for long. My potential new frock was cut on the bias and while it gave me an hourglass figure like I had previously thought I could only covet on other women, it was too long and a bit big around my narrow shoulders.

Meanwhile the sister came back. "Your brother and mum were looking for you!" the assistant told her. "They've gone up the street to find you!" The sister went rushing back up the street to find them.

And then I found the Von Troska.

I've explained before how much I love this Australian label - beautiful tailoring, great fabrics and designed with due reverence to working women, the Australian climate and the boho spirit. The dress, I hope my photo illustrates, wraps around, and is cream with black and two shades of brown forming a grid. It was a light but practical rayon-cotton mix.

I'd just tied the wrap, and was making a sulky face in the mirror at the poor fit, when mum and the brother came back, still looking for their sister. "She's just gone to find you!" the shop assistant told them. Mother and son wisely decided to wait; I sadly took off the dress that was cut for a much taller woman and decided to try my luck for the third time at the dress rack. Also, I wanted to hear the greetings when the little family finally managed to meet up.

I got very lucky indeed for there was a silk knit cardigan and a blue silk blouse that had just made it on the rack. While I tried on the blue blouse the sister came back and there was much excitement. So much in fact I was too busy enjoying their talk to remember to photograph the blue blouse (which was great and is now in my wardrobe).

While I was trying on the silk cardi, Uncle Peter turned up. The brother was overjoyed - there was much happy hugging and slapping of shoulders. It transpired they had not seen each other for nearly thirty years.

I liked my cardigan.
I believe I liked it better when I saw Uncle Peter and overheard him telling his nephew (in the smoothest and most perfect received English) that he had just scored a large Collins dictionary for nine dollars. Here he is in the background.

And yes, I bought the cardi. I thought it would be great with light tops and flowery dresses. It is already known as the Uncle Peter cardi. I also scored two books - the lyric poems of Keats and Shakespeare's Wife by Germaine Greer.

I always have fine times and kind experiences in the Buddhist op shop. They get some great donations, are very reasonably priced and all the proceeds from the shop go to women and children's charities in India and South East Asia.

The brother and sister and mum and Uncle Peter comprised the nicest family. Their happiness followed me around Newtown, on the streets and over a very late breakfast, all Saturday.


There were baby sitting duties to attend to on Saturday evening. I hope in thirty years' time we will be as loved by our nephews as Uncle Peter is by his.

Heck in a dress

In my last post I mentioned a five hundred dollar dress at a op shop (or thrift store if you will) I was rootling through over the weekend. Sheila, a reader with whom I am certain I share an op-shopping gene, asked what the heck kind of dress could it have been?

I would love to report that it was an original mint condition Fortuny in a pale custard coloured silk, or the wild red frothy hip-clinging number from La Dolce Vita. It was nothing as exciting, but it was elegant, quite practical and looked a lot like this. Not exactly, but by the same designer (Betty Jackson), and in a very similar shape and shade. In short, it was a great work dress and in very good if not new condition.

And I was in a rather posh part of Sydney, miles away from my usual stamping ground. I had no doubt the local charity shops would be pricey.

Perhaps I should offer a case for the defence here? I have been doing the rounds of op shops since I was a little girl for my mother was also a champion op-shopper. I grew up wearing second clothes; some of my favourite, best loved items have been found on the racks and shelves of op shops. I love the process, I love the results: things are donated, they are priced reasonably, the money goes to a good cause and I get a great dress. I'm also happy to pay a fair price for an item - $30 to me is a good price for a clean, practical garment that I know I will wear. I would have handed over $50 for this dress.

In fact, I was certain the tag on the dress was a mistake, that they had meant to price it as $50. I asked the lady in the apron behind the counter. "Is this meant to be $500?"

She creased her brow and shook her head. "I don't think so, but I'll check."

I followed her out to the back where she had a hushed conversation with other apron ladies of the shop. About as much as I could glean is that the dress had come in with a particularly impressive load of designer clothes and they had all been priced very high. "It's $500 dollars," the boss apron lady said.

$500? It wouldn't have cost that much new.

I put it back on the rack. I have a lot of respect and admiration for the Salvation Army but I feel their pricing policies, and indeed a little bit of the fun of op shopping, jumped the shark on Saturday.

But it wasn't a complete loss. There were brooches, a lovely old hair clip and some very hard-to-find Liberty bangles.

I washed the Liberty bangles in a lingerie bag on the gentle cycle in my rather snarky washing machine. I thought they came up rather nicely. The bangles, I should add, were much more in line with op-shop pricing at fifty cents each. The jewellery was eight dollars a piece. I wore the blue bangle with this dress today.