Plastic Princess

Hmmm, for someone who professes she is so not a princess, I seem to own rather a lot of tiaras. But this one, I might argue, could be dubbed (to use a queenly term) a glorified headband.

It is from Mimco, made of plastic, and inset with diamantes. It retailed for about $99. I hardly need state that I certainly did not pay that inflated price: I bought it from the sales store in Richmond for much less than half the amount. I think it looks like a blinged-up ice-cream waffle.

I think it looks like a blinged-up ice-cream waffle.

At the time when I bought it there was another design in (faux) tortoiseshell that I preferred, but it was broken in parts. It would have stood out a bit more against my dark hair than the navy, but I thought it was so cute I had to have it anyway.

Have I worn it out yet? No, of course not. It’s a tiara!

Alas my love you do me wrong

Does anyone out there remember the Let’s Sing! primary school songbooks of the 70s? I have fond memories of the gems contained within their pages: Six Ribbons, Scarborough Fair, Whistling Gypsy, Purple People Eater … and of course Greensleeves. Everyone pretended it was so uncool to be singing these ballads and folk tunes, but secretly we all loved music class. Greensleeves was one of my favourite ballads. I even learned to sing it properly many years later when I was taking singing lessons.

Whilst researching the song’s history I discovered – to my shock! – that one interpretation of its lyrics (according to Wikipedia), is that ‘Lady Green Sleeves was a promiscuous young woman and perhaps a prostitute’.

Apparently, once upon a time, the colour green had sexual connotations, particularly in the phrase ‘a green gown’. A proper young lady had better take a rug with her, because if she innocently sat on the grass to take a breather, she risked a blemish on her reputation as well as her gown. People were likely to assume she’d been making love al fresco!

I wonder if the creator of these frivolous armwarmers properly considered all the ramifications of knitting green sleeves?

~

Alas, my love, you do me wrong,
To cast me off discourteously.
For I have loved you well and long,
Delighting in your company.

Greensleeves was all my joy
Greensleeves was my delight,
Greensleeves was my heart of gold,
And who but my lady greensleeves.

Hot off the sewing machine

Garment labels perhaps aren’t very important in the grand scheme of fashion, but they do show a designer’s forethought in the overall impression his or her label creates.

Certainly I am not one to keep them unless they are very special, but these labels delighted me. They are both constructed from fabric – or should I say deconstructed? With threads dangling, they have a lovely unfinished look, as though the garments they were attached to were rushed hot off the sewing machine (mid-protest) and straight to the boutique. Whatever the case, they are several steps up from the dull cardboard squares that usually suspend from new clothes.

I also love the classic red and white, a colour combination I am always drawn to. As tactile as these were, I couldn’t bear to toss them in the bin. I shall actually recycle them as bookmarks, and give them a new lease on life.

Tomb Raider

(Above) Indian glass beads from a boutique in Greville St; Egyptian-style collar bought at the Camberwell Market years ago; base metal curvaceous necklace bought from Hobnob in Sassafras just a fortnight ago.

“I don’t like gold jewellery,” I used to loftily declare to my friends when I was young. I had developed this opinion because I didn’t like most of it that I saw when I was a teen in the 80s. It was very convenient, too, since it was far more expensive than silver and I couldn’t afford to buy it anyway.

Certainly I scorned the fake stuff: it went black and turned your skin green. The real gold jewellery some girls wore in high school I thought was common: chunky chains with twee little charms; plain round bangles; modest hoop earrings. They were usually gifts from their parents. And the pale yellow versions were worst of all.

But then one day something changed. I realised I actually adored gold. IF – and only if – it was the bright yellow, 22K stuff. The real deal. The sort of thing Indian brides wear. If it jingled that was just a bonus.

I realised I actually adored gold. IF – and only if – it was the bright yellow, 22K stuff… If it jingled that was just a bonus.

I have always admired jewellery from the ancient world: Egyptian, Etruscan, Greek, Persian, Roman, but particularly Egyptian. I loved the glass and stone beads, the scarabs, the ornate collars and so on. Jewellers at that time used gold in preference to any other metal: it was precious, didn’t tarnish, and its softness made it easy to work with.

Of course, I can’t afford to purchase these archaeological finds either.

A couple of years ago I saw a pair of 22K gold earrings from ancient Iran (Persia) in Gazelle, a jewellery boutique in the city. They were going for the modest sum of $700. I sighed, and admired them from behind the glass.

That was when I decided fake was good.

I was a billboard in a former life

One of my amusing purchases that flew back with me from Vietnam was this recycled tote bag, which has since been presented to my cat-sitter.

The store I bought it from, Blue Dragon, I discovered on my first night in Saigon. In their own words, they “specialise in fashion and crafts made from ethnic textiles and recycled materials,” working with artisans throughout Vietnam. What I particularly loved about this bag is that – according to the placard on the shelf – it was a billboard in a former life!

There were many colourful designs and styles, and the only difficulty I had was in restricting myself to buying only one, rather than three.