Chic vs Cheap

I was just a little amused to find this striped pink scarf in a charity shop a while ago. It has ‘Paris’ literally stamped all over it – in lots of different fonts!

Metaphorically, however, it is not so chic, for it is printed polyester rather than woven silk. The artificial fibre also made it very difficult to tie into a ‘French twist’ (as this particular knot is called), as the disobedient fabric was so slippery and yet unpliable. Silk, the thinnest of natural fibres, is far more flexible and drapes beautifully. And in silk, the print would seem chic and quirky rather than cheap and nasty.

Alas, this scarf is just Not Quite Right. I’m sure Ines would veto it.

How to Deal With Cat-astrophes

I have a cat. Sometimes, against my better judgement (because she is gazing adoringly up at me with her big green eyes and looking so cute), I pick her up even though I am wearing some garment that would be utterly ruined if she got her claws into it. In these cases I usually try to hold onto her paws under guise of caressing them. On the odd occasion a sudden frenzy overtakes her (you know how cats get those) and she must be up and doing IMMEDIATELY. That’s when accidents happen.

This could be an unmitigated Catastrophe (depending upon one’s degree of love for said garment) or merely a minor vexation (if garment weave is loose enough to repair). Here’s how to deal with it:

1. Find thread-picker. Spread garment flat.
2. Carefully draw pulled thread through to reverse side of garment.
3. Flip garment back and admire handiwork.
4. Tell cat off. Resolve never to pick animal up again unless one is wearing plasterer’s overalls or similar.

The Silk Disaster

On Chinese New Year, I wore my bright red silk dress on an outing to the gallery with an old friend. That night, I decided to make crepes for supper. Foolishly, I kept the dress on, and did not even don an apron. I must have been daydreaming, and you can guess what happened …

I poured the first ladle of batter into the pan, and naturally the oil splashed outwards and spattered all over my dress. Well, I can tell you I whipped that dress off pretty quickly, and ran to the bathroom in my underwear!

I put the soiled dress in the sink to soak, hand-washed it gently and hung it out to dry. The next day I made the sad discovery that the oil stains clung on. (Duh, oil and water don’t mix.) I did what I should have done immediately: desperately leafed through my handy pocket reference guide to removing stains.

… I whipped that dress off pretty quickly, and ran to the bathroom in my underwear!

Oil and grease stains were the worst of all to clean, I read, but it was possible to remove them by shaking talcum powder on the spots, placing paper towel over the soiled area, and gently applying the iron on a low heat setting. Exchanging clean paper as needed, the operation should be repeated until the powder has soaked up the oil. The garment should then be washed in warm, soapy water (not normally recommended for silk fabric).

But was it too late for my dress?

Hallelujah, it was not! Miraculously, the dress came good, and even survived a warm wash.

eHow has a few other suggestions in the unhappy event of your own disaster. 

Those Annoying Ribbons and their Irritating Propensities

Who, I say WHO, finds those useless ribbons attached to the insides of one’s garments as annoying and irritating as I do? A stupider sartorial invention I cannot at present think of, made all the more so when they are attached to t-shirts of all things.

I grant you, on OCCASION they can be useful to attach strapless dresses to hangers, or keep slippery silk blouses from slipping to the bottom of one’s closet, but in the main they cause more grief than relief. Observe:

The Spaghetti

These long ribbon straps (see fig.1, pictured top) hang inside sleeveless garments to torment one when one zips up a dress, snagging in the fastening; and when one is out, by managing to work free by some mysterious agent and hang down by one’s side like a long noodle. Both unattractive and irksome. Solution: cut them off.

on OCCASION they can be useful …
but in the main they cause more grief than relief.

The Choker

Another tricky ribbon that turns the process of dressing into one that bears some resemblance to putting one’s head in a noose (fig 2, above). Daunting, and uncomfortable. Also entirely unnecessary as t-shirts can be folded flat into a drawer and the ribbon is thus rendered entirely dysfunctional. Solution: cut it off.

The Dishabille

My personal favourite (fig 3, above), these two ribbons are sewn into the shoulders of garments and have a remarkable propensity to work their way outside a neckline to hang freely down the front (bad), or back (worse, since they are not immediately discernible). At best, they tickle on the inside and deceive one into thinking the straps of one’s brassiere are slipping, making one feel dishevelled and unladylike. Pesky and pointless. Solution: cut them off, cut them off!

Bang, Bang on the Desk Baby

I love bangles. I own too many really – a whole shoebox-full. I wear them too (unlike the drawerful of scarves, another love), although I have my favourites, such as my smooth black onyx that I wear nearly every day. The only thing is, they are so annoying when working at a computer! They bang around so much on my desk eventually I take them off for fear of earning my work colleagues’ censure. Hence the name BANG-le, I guess.

Here is a new purchase from China, found on eBay, carved from yellow lacquered cinnabar. I adore the colour – such a bright sunny,
summery hue. 

A closeup

What is cinnabar?

A bright red mineral, cinnabar is a toxic mercury ore, although in the form of cinnabar it is at its least harmful. It is also known as vermillion, and gives this name to the artist’s pigment, and has been used in decorative art and cosmetics since ancient times by the Mayans and Romans, among others. Probably the Chinese are most well known for utilising the mineral in their lacquered cinnabar decorative objects and jewellery.

First ground into a powder cinnabar is then mixed with lacquer – produced from the sap of the lac tree that is commonly found in central and southern China. Base objects are then coated with many layers of lacquer, which are finally carved. Some pieces may be coated 300 times: each layer had to dry completely before the next was applied, so these pieces could take up to half a year and more to produce. Sometimes other dyes, such as yellow, were substituted for red cinnabar, or layered between the traditional red to create a multi-hued effect.

(Clockwise from top left): powdered cinnabar; pair of Chinese cinnabar lacquer vases; of lobed form, with floral design featuring peonies; long neck with flared rim featuring small lotus blossom designs; carved tea flower ring by Rebecca Berry Jewelry.Cinnabar lacquer was produced and carved for many years before the toxic effect was known, after which a layer of clear lacquer was finally applied – particularly to jewellery – to prevent the spread of mercury to the skin. Most modern cinnabar decorative objects or jewellery have been made from lacquer that has been tinted with a simulated chemical cinnabar. But beware: any truly vintage pieces should be kept behind glass to prevent poisoning!