Buying into Buy Nothing - confessions of a shopping addict

So Buy Nothing is a thing. I get it. We live in a very consumerist society. Advertising is everywhere; on the tv, radio, print media, social media and websites and of course emails. It's overwhelming.

Use Facebook and ads will pop up for anything and everything, usually targetted to your age and gender. Visit any number of websites and you'll find an ad for something you searched for on Google recently (I'm sure there's a way to stop my search data being used like that but I can't be arsed finding it out). Click me, they urge, go on - click!

As I have a bulging wardrobe and every kitchen utensil known to man, I committed to stop shopping on 1 July 2017 for a minimum of three months with the aim of stretching it to twelve months.

I confess to being somewhat of a shopping addict. In addition to food and toiletries, I buy clothes, shoes, makeup, books, music and sometimes household goods on a regular basis. The woman at my local dress shop calls me her best customer, although I've been 'good' lately and haven't bought anything from her for six weeks, and that was only the second thing I'd bought from her all year.

But I digress. If I can make it to three months, I can increase my Buy Nothing week by week, month by month. Little steps, regular milestones, will make it easier. Rather like someone in AA taking it one day at a time.

I can see why Buy Nothing is taking off, however. Firstly minimalism is back in vogue, so to achieve it, you need less. Then there's the problem of rubbish and landfill we in the west create.

As well as being a consumerist society, we are a throwaway society. Globalisation has seen fashion become an entity which churns out new designs on an apparently weekly basis. (In fact there is a shop at Kingsford Smith Airport in Sydney which promises new stock EVERY WEEK. Ye Gods.) With low labour costs in third world countries it's easy to spend $30-$50 for a new jumper or dress, or $10 on a t-shirt. I'm guilty. When H and M came to Australia I snapped up a handful of $7 t-shirts with absolute glee. After all, white t-shirts usually only last a year or two before they go grey or attract stains even Napisan can't remove. Then into the rubbish they go, too awful to even give to a charity shop.

My goodness, the amount of clothing that goes into landfill is terrifying. How wasteful we are as a society. How greedy. How eager to flash the plastic and buy more, more, more. I feel sorry for the fashionistas who are compelled to buy the latest look, racking up their credit cards to indecent levels, wearing items only a few times before chucking or donating. Because clothing IS so cheap these days, it is very much seen as throwaway after one season.

Granted, little of my clothing gets actually chucked out. Anything still decent goes to charity, damaged clothing gets used by me as cleaning rags before finally hitting the bin.  I get many years out of my clothes as most of what I buy is either fairly classic or interesting enough not to date. I have overcoats I've had for 20+ years and they're still fine.

The human cost behind producing cheap clothes for the western world is heartbreaking. Sweatshops, dangerous conditions, working hours which would cause strikes in Australia. Look at your clothing. Where is it made? Bangladesh? India? Turkey? China? Would you be prepared to pay, say, four times more for each item if it was made in your own country under decent working conditions?

And as for 'the middle aisle' in ALDI - oh, oh, oh! What a joy! The bits and pieces I have bought cheaply, such as weights and gym clothes, or a warm throw for the living room for a tiny $15, fill me with acquisitive delight. For I AM acquisitive, and it's something I'll have to overcome. I don't need more stuff. The majority of us don't need more stuff.

But.

It's not as if I'm in my 20s and have just moved out of home and have to buy or acquire household goods on which to sit, or kitchen utensils and pots. I have it all. Mum left a house full of 'stuff' when she died and I'm still selling or giving away things in an effort to make the place less cluttered.

I'm going to find this Buy Nothing lark hard work I think. I have unsubscribed from various shoe and clothing email lists so I don't get tempted.

So if I'm buying nothing, what are the exceptions for me? Which non-nothings will sneak into the house aside from food etc for us and the animals?

• Toiletries and cosmetics. I don't buy many cosmetics but I'm not going to go without an eyebrow pencil when my current one dies (local supermarket, $14, and seriously good).  And I don't go mad on toiletries like I used to 20 years ago. I estimate in the next 3 months I will have to buy toothpaste, soap, 1 bottle each of shampoo, conditioner, Nuxe Huile Prodiguese and Nutrimetics Nutri-Rich Oil as these are my staples and I'm running low on them. 
• Nails. I like having nice nails. It's a pick me up luxury that costs me about $40/month.
• Hair. Yes, my foils cost money but damned if I'm going to go grey.
• Books. But only e-books as they are cheaper and don't take up physical space, or I'll rejoin the local library and borrow.
• I may have to get supplies for my business such as paper and ink for the printer, but then I've always been frugal with my business.
• Gifts for others' birthdays. Unless I have something I can make or something new I can regift. There are 3 birthdays I have to cater for so I'll have to be canny.

And that's it. For the next two and a half months at least. Wish me luck. Hope I can conquer this shopping addiction and be a Buy Nothing person.

What was he thinking?

My husband G is a lovely bloke. Thoughtful. Generous. Kind. I am very lucky.

He likes to buy me presents, particularly if he's sent overseas on business, and most of the time they hit the mark pretty well.

Earlier this year he travelled to India, and asked me if I'd like him to bring back a sari. Delighted, I said. Cotton, preferably, and with sequins. Something a bit over the top I can turn into an evening dress. Aqua colour. Bless him, he came back with an apple green polyester sari with no sequins. Not what I envisaged for an evening dress so one of my Indian neighbours will have to show me how to wear a sari. We have many Indian neighbours. There'll probably be an occasion to wear one. It's a very pretty sari.

Happy that he'd bought a sari, G then thought he'd buy me something else. Silk clothes are pretty cheap in India, so he bought me a silk top.

I think he probably went into the fashion boutique, as he said it was quite a fashionable little shop, and told the salesgirl, "My wife likes wearing bright colours. What have you got in silk?"

She was undoubtedly overjoyed to offload a safety vest green coloured top, the cut of which is designed to turn anyone with boobs bigger than 32" into an elephant.

I am talking BRIGHT green. Eye-piercing, blinding green. Yes, the glow in the dark colour favoured by all health-and-safety-conscious manual workers everywhere. This photo doesn't do it justice. It makes it look tame.

I am thinking the shop didn't sell many of these; G told me proudly he'd got it on special.

Being a polite person, I thanked him generously and said it was lovely, and tried it on. Because of those pleats at the top and the subsequent flow of fabric it immediately made me look 10kgs heavier. I hoiked it in with a wide turquoise coloured belt, which helped. 

Apart from the fit, or lack of fit, the problem is the colour. What the hell do you match blinding green with so you don't look like a roadworker? I guess I can tone it down with aqua and turquoise, and wear it with white capri pants. I could probably wear it under the apple green sari, come to that.

Because it's a present and G was so proud of his shopping capabilities, I am honour bound to wear the top and not give it away. I am too kind a person to let it meet with an accident. I can't even dye it another colour or he'll suspect he made a major error with the fuck-me-that's-green green, and feel bad about it. 

So I have to grin and bear it - or in this case, wear it. But... what was he thinking when he went through the decision process on this top?

Has anyone else been giving a present they don't like but have to wear lest the giver get insulted?

Bagless liberation

Last night I went out without a handbag. I had my keys and phone in my jeans pockets and my wallet tucked into the inside pocket of my Driz-A-Bone.

It felt strange, but quite liberating.

You see, I always carry a bag. I'm not someone who walks about with her keys, wallet and phone in her hand, as I see some women do. I like a bag as that way my hands are free and I'm not likely to leave my phone, keys or wallet on a cafe table.

Like many women I started carrying a bag as a child/teen, in imitation of my Mum, who is definitely a handbag person.

Over the years I've had dozens of handbags. Dozens. Handbag junkie, me.

Because I'm bespectacled a handbag was a must before I got glasses with transitions lenses which are photosensitive. I had to always carry a pair of prescription sunnies as bright sunshine hurts my eyes.  I routinely carried a small camera everywhere too in case I saw anything interesting or amusing while I was out and about.  I used to get sinus problems so a handful of tissues was a must too. And makeup. And a book to read at my desk over a sandwich at lunchtime when I used to work full-time - and the sandwich as well!

These days my routine handbag contents run thus:

• keys to my house
• keys to my Mum's in case of emergency
• keys to the office of my main client
• phone
• business cards
• wallet - quite thick because of all the bloody cards I seem to have wound up with
• extra case with other bloody store loyalty cards, just in case I need them to get a discount
• a couple of lipsticks
• mirror compact for lipstick application
• a couple of pens
• a tissue
• regretfully, fags and a lighter on occasions

I typically take a bag that's big enough to include my iPad for business meetings and a more professional compact camera than my phone camera for business events.

Usually my preference is for shoulder bags and cross-body bags - bags that leave my hands free.

I could probably get away without a bag on more occasions if women's clothing was just that little bit more practical - you know, jackets with inside pockets to put my wallet in. I do envy men their jackets, and I envy women who can wear them and look great. I look like a dag if I try.

Women's wallets, by the way, are appalling these days. They are so damn big. I could use a man's wallet but then that means carrying an extra coin purse, as I don't always wear trousers with pockets. When I was on holiday last year I found a miracle at David Jones'  - a small wallet - into which I could fit my driver's licence, my frequent flyer card and my credit card, as well as cash and coins. Bloody lovely. I tried using it for a bit on my return but gradually needed to include the Woolworths' card (to get points for cheaper fuel), the FlyBuys card (same) and a couple of other 'regular' cards. With a sigh I went back to my usual wallet, which is also on the small side compared to the range of women's wallets which are the size of a clutch bag.

So yes, it was quite liberating to go out last night without a bag. I know women who go to parties without taking a bag, but in my case I was at the rugby. And that's another whole story!

My Monte Carlo Dress - Adventures in beading

By the pricking of my thumbs, something blingy this way comes.

I've done a bit more work on my Folkwear Monte Carlo dress, adding a little more beading to the shoulder area, making the matching tunic with tassels (and hand beading a bit of sparkle into said tassels) and finally making a very darkly glittering bandeau using both the dress and tunic materials.

There hasn't been much on telly this week so I've been sitting after dinner with bowls of beads and cursing the lousy energy saver lightbulbs we have throughout the house.

The tunic was really easy to make; I used my overlocker (not traditional I know but it gave a nice edge to the garment) around the edges and sewed two of the three pieces together, stabilising it with a bit of jersey mesh I had left over from another top I'd made ages ago. Then I beaded the tassels and sewed them firmly on. They are heavy compared to the filigree texture of the fabric, a metallic lace. The tunic is supposed to cross over in front but when I tried that I looked like battleship full steam ahead. Curse these big boobs! It looks pretty good unfastened though.

My hand beaded tassels

Classic 20s pose!

Now for a look at the bit of extra beading I did around the shoulders - and this pic shows off the bandeau pretty well too!  The extra shoulder beading is discreet - more beads scattered in between the three original rows, sort of like a little spray of beads, a light shower rather than a thunderstorm.

Shoulder beading and bandeau

That bandeau took about four hours to bead. It's not beaded all the way around; there's a section right in the middle, then scattered beads out to where I have three rows of beads hanging freely at the sides. This 'Facebook' shot probably shows it better:

Vampish Facebook profile pic - one day I will give Jimmy Durante his nose back

Speaking of Facebook, those of you who read this and know me on Facebook too may wonder why I don't publicise this blog on Facebook. This blog is more of a personal thought dump; me being me and occasionally saying things about myself I wouldn't say to most people I know. There is a certain cathartic pleasure in being a blogger and having a name not my own. Aside from which I've grumbled about a couple of people on here who are actually friends of mine and Facebook friends too. Don't want them to read this blog! Only a few people I know on FB know that I'm Carinthia too.

Anyway, I think I have finished my dress, the tunic and the bandeau. I have really enjoyed the beading process and was getting quite quick by the end of the bandeau, so will look for more items I can bling up within the bounds of good taste. Or make another 20s dress :-)

My Monte Carlo dress

OK, I'm a nostalgia buff. I've often lamented here about the busyness of life these days and sighed over less frenetic times. I do have to pull myself up at some point and thank modern living for pain free dentistry etc and remember that the good old days are usually viewed through rose-coloured glasses and period tv shows which can't port into your living room the smell of living in an era sans deodorant.

That being said the 1920s is my nostalgia decade of choice. Women wore short skirts and short hair and had more control over their life (and finances) than their mothers did at the same age. It was an exciting time of jazz, aeroplanes, fast cars (that couldn't brake or handle but oh my those Bugattis were elegant!), cocktails and gorgeous dresses.

Even though I don't have the skinny bod for 20s fashions, I love them.

Six months ago I bought a dress pattern I'd been sighing over for ages - the Monte Carlo Dress, by Folkwear. It's a 1990s pattern based on a 1925 Poiret gown. With a skirt cut on the bias, it's a luxurious construction requiring around 5 metres of fabric. Given that I have been sewing barely a year, I quailed at the thought of making a mistake and buggering up those five metres. It's not like I would be making it in plain cotton; oh no, not this little black duck for whom ignorance can be bliss when it comes to working with fabric. Nope, I was going to do it in something gorgeous, something worthy of a 1920s woman out for a night on the razz at the best speakeasy in town.

In those six months I've made quite a lot of clothes, mostly tops, and a skirt suit, mainly out of knitted fabric. Understanding the directions on the pattern has become easier (except for Burda. Jeez. The translation from German into English is strictly double Deutsch. I'm sure they leave directions out just to confuse the English speakers. Revenge for WWII or something). I read through the Monte Carlo directions last week and they made a lot more sense than they did when I bought the pattern.

So I decided it was time to make the Monte Carlo dress last weekend. My local Sewright shop had the ideal fabric, a burnout velvet in deep midnight blue. I had some paler blue fabric I could use as lining for the bodice, even though the pattern doesn't call for a full lining. I decided the moderately sheer velvet needed lining to cover my knickers and provide some stability for the slightly stretchy velvet itself. I lashed out on metallic lace to make the cape thing that goes with the dress, but haven't made that yet. That's next weekend. It looks very simple.

To my delight making the dress was a breeze compared to some of the things I've over-ambitiously tried to make in the last year. The swear factor was zero.

My Monte Carlo dress

I've mentioned my ignorance and over-ambition, and put both of them to good use by doing some hand-beading on the front of the bodice. This had to be done before the garment was stitched together. Now, I've never beaded anything in my life, so I blithely went out to Lincraft and bought some bugle beads and seed beads and embroidery needles and set to it. Thankfully my slightly wavy, ever so slightly crooked lines of beads are disguised by the fabric, which is a bit wavy itself. You don't notice the lines aren't completely straight. Phew! I have found one little error I'll have to fix though and I'm not saying what it is :-)

I decided to do something really simple in the way of beading as you can add impatience to the list of my foibles as well and I desperately wanted to get my dress done over the weekend. I hate having to interrupt something I'm doing and put it aside for another week.

hand beading

I sewed all day Saturday. I sewed all day Sunday. By Sunday night the bodice was ready for the skirt, and I'd hemmed half the skirt. This morning I worked until 11 then thought, sod it! I HAD to finish this dress!! So I did. I took my time lining the skirt up with the bodice and tacked it all in place before sewing it with the machine. I did quite a bit of hand finishing here and there too.

The end result is pretty stunning, even if I say so myself. I'm astonished that I made it. It fits like a dream and my seams aren't too untidy on the inside :-).

I'll have to make a proper beaded bandeau to match it - I've tied a bit of fabric around my head here - and of course the cape thingy.

Without the bandeau and with different jewellery it's timeless enough to wear to a posh night out without feeling I'm wearing a costume - with my husband's new job I may get the opportunity to wear it out a few times! But with the 20s trimmings I'm all set for a 20s themed event when I hear of one that sounds like fun.

I couldn't wait to try it on once it was complete (how nice to try it on without pins digging into me!) and then decided on makeup and a photo or two. I'd told a friend about it and she wanted to see a piccy. All tarted up with the appropriate accessories, I felt like a different person - that same feeling I had at the Paragon cafe in February.

So here I am, 20s woman in my 20s bedroom, complete with cat and the lamp that cat broke. Cocktails, anyone?

The button theory

Have you noticed that when you buy clothing these days it often comes with a spare button (assuming it has buttons in the first place)?

In days past this was an indicator of a posh item; something you'd keep and wear for years, a classic, and maybe at some stage you'd lose a button and lo! you had a spare stashed away in a drawer somewhere.

These days even cheaper clothing comes with a spare button; my Mum is impressed by this and thinks it means the clothing is well-made and posh. I disagree.

These days a spare button means that the clothing is invariably made in China, to a budget, and the cheapskates who make it don't sew the buttons on thoroughly. Thread costs money. Sewing buttons on takes time and THAT costs money too.

Take two cardigans I bought last year from Woolovers, a UK company which ships to Australia. I'd had trouble finding the style and blend of wool/merino/cashmere I wanted for a price I could afford. I got two items from Woolovers for $50 plus postage, and there wasn't a place in Australia that could match that. The website had a proud "British" feel to it and I figured the items were made in the UK. Nowhere on the website did it say the items were made in China, and it doesn't say on the jumpers themselves, but the little production tab inside boasts fonts that scream 'Made in China'. I've learned the signs over the years.

At first I was impressed that each item came with spare buttons. Maybe Woolovers set high standards for production, wherever in the world it was. However... the first time I wore one of the cardigans buttoned up, 50% of the buttons popped off over a five hour period. Luckily I was at home and every time I saw one missing I scanned the carpet until I found it. I resewed them all on and resewed the remainder too. They had originally had a scant couple of loops holding them in place.

The buttons on the other cardigan looked fine and as I had yet to wear it buttoned (it is a lightweight summer one) I didn't bother about restitching them all. I wore it today though and because the temperature dropped steadily from midday you can guess what happened. I buttoned up the top two buttons and found I was missing one of them by the time I got home from my meeting. It was nowhere to be found, probably squashed underfoot now at Top Ryde City Shopping Centre.

I have a little box full of spare buttons that belong to items of clothing I've bought over the last twenty years. Most of them I haven't needed but I've kept them in case they come in useful for a future sewing project. Luckily I had the corresponding button to the one I'd lost today nestled in the plethora of tiny plastic bags.

Tomorrow, when I'm awake and it's light outside I'll be sturdily sewing on every blasted button on that cardigan. When I sew buttons on the stitching outlasts the garment itself.

The thing that is really making me scratch my head now is my button box. It's almost like my Mum's. I delighted when I was little in playing with the buttons in her box - all shapes, sizes and colours, literally hundreds of them kept in an old tin that had once held posh chocolates. As a small girl I used to sort them according to shape or colour and it would keep me amused for hours, making patterns out of them on the floor and picking my favourites. She reused some of them for clothing and I'm sure they are a collector's dream, as she still has that box full of goodies dating back to heaven knows when - at least the 1940s. Sadly my collection isn't quite as eclectic as hers, my buttons not as fancy. But I bet hers never fell off her clothes!

Chick lit, trashy mags and weird clothes

Today I bought a copy of Grazia. This is worth mentioning because I rarely buy magazines with the exception of Country Living (British Edition)  or Burda (sewing mag). If I want to read a gossip mag it'll be at the hairdresser's, but since I got a new car the hairdresser visits have got fewer and fewer. The colour I now buy in a box at Priceline and if I'm feeling very frugal and have split ends it's a DIY job for that too.

The last couple of weeks I've swayed from my usual diet of murder mysteries and have been reading some of Marian Keyes' chick lit novels (thanks to Displaced who put me onto them). Chick lit may be a rather unkind description in this case as her novels feature characters with deeper problems, mental illness and other issues; this sets these novels apart from the dime-a-dozen-with-pink-covers-and-curly-fonts books. Aside from which they are bloody funny. And Marian Keyes knows how to hold your attention; several nights in a row I've been up till midnight because of her blasted cliffhangers at the end of chapters.

Having read about women working in the fashion/beauty industry (Anyone Out There) I had a sudden urge to pick up a copy of Grazia, just for the heck of it. This was doubly fuelled by galloping through How To Be Impossibly French by Helena Frith Powell last night in a bubble bath.

I have a cup of tea on one side of the computer and Grazia on the other, and flicking quickly through the mag I realise that while I don't feel at least fifteen years too old and several kilos too heavy for it, I, in fact, am. I also don't have the budget to be a fahionista - or the longing, even if I was a lithe 25 again.

There was a time when I'd blow one third of my weekly pay packets on shoes and clothes (that bit about 25 relates to this!). This was the 80s and I followed fashion with a passion. Unfortunately! Of all the eras to choose...oh well.

These days I have my own style. I might pick and choose an idea of what's in style and try and recreate that with what I have in my wardrobe, some of which is vintage stuff I've bought from eBay, markets or op shops that comes in handy from time to time. Now I'm learning to sew (intermediate rather than beginner I think by now) I buy fabric and make clothes. Lace is in fashion at the moment. I made myself a lined stretch black lace suit for $45; would have cost about $200 in the shops. It's the nicest thing I've made, suits my body shape and is nice enough for business occasions.

My own style is rather dependent on how I feel when I wake up or what the weather forecast says. I have an eclectic mix of clothes from hippie style cotton kaftans (just perfect on those stinky hot summer days) to business suits (boring but necessary from time to time) to jeans and tshirts, a few pretty floral dresses for when I'm channelling the 1930s or 20s, plenty of knit tops that are transseasonal and clothes I've made myself including more knit tops. These last are clothes that look like no other - partly because I was a real beginner when I started and had to cover up duff necklines and other bits and pieces with additional bits of lace or fake fur or whatever.

My friend Sue, who is quite conservative these days, told me recently, "Some of the things you wear are really weird. But then, that's your style. If you dressed like everyone else you wouldn't be you."  I think at the time I was wearing a hot pink tshirt and tights with an orange tunic over the top and red shoes. Or perhaps purple. I do prefer the term eccentric to weird though.

I did my bit towards eccentric/weird this week. I bought a copy of Burda a week ago, the German magazine (English version) which is packed chock full of clothing patterns. Really.There's a huge great pullout bit in the middle with patterns overprinted on other patterns and once you've sorted out which bits you're after, you trace them and bingo, you have a pattern. Stuff you can make - yessss!! This coincided with a 50% off sale at a fabric warehouse last weekend so armed with Burda I went to the sale and got some real bargains. More knit tops to make in beautiful shades of green, and a 1920s-influenced kimono thingy I'm going to make in patterned velvet.

This is the top in question. This version naturally looks 100% better than the one I made!

The Burda instructions for the kimono top said "easy" but I've been caught with "easy" before, so I bought some cheap purple fabric in a hurry (which on reflection looks like polo shirt material. Oh well) and some matching satin and thought I'd try to make it first out of the cheap material, to find out where any stuff ups could occur.

So that's been my nights this week, making the purple kimono. All went swimmingly until I had to attach the ties. There's a wonderful scene in the first episode of Black Books where bookshop proprietor Bernard Black is trying to do his tax. He reads the same paragraph over and over again and procrastinates, prevaricates and actually welcomes a pair of Jehovah's Witnesses to take him away from the task.

(Start watching at 1.40.)

Anyway, digressions aside, this is how I felt reading the instructions for attaching the satin ties. The instructions had been translated into English I think by a jokester or sadist who decided to leave important bits out. When I finally sorta kinda understood it, I realised it wouldn't work and devised my own method of attaching them. If I hadn't I wouldn't have been able to do the stupid thing up.

I finally finished the kimono-ish garment at nine last night. Can't wait to show my friend Sue, who will think it weird. But oh how I'll laugh if something similar shows up in Grazia this autumn!

Cambridge Raincoat Company - stylish on a bike!

Trolling around some cycling blogs this week I noticed the ever so glam coats from the Cambridge Raincoat Company. What a marvellous idea- fashionable, comfortable coats in lovely colours, designed for women who want to ride upright bicycles. They look so good you don't even need a bicycle as an excuse to buy one, and they are made in the UK, not in China or Taiwan or anywhere else the stitching is likely to be shoddy.  I love this purple (orchid) colour coat:

This is the version with reflective tape on the coat - but if you choose you can have it without. I hope Cambridge doesn't mind me 'borrowing' their photo but it's too nice not to show.

I hate riding my bikes in the rain. I tend to avoid walking in the rain unless I have a really big umbrella, as more than simply getting wet I hate getting raindrops on my glasses as I actually can't see when that happens, which makes for dangerous cycling. 

These gorgeous coats are only 135 quid - that's somewhere around $160 in Aussie money at the moment I think; for the money, much nicer than trendy sports raincoats which don't cover enough of you up, and better fitting for cycling than ordinary raincoats.  I'm trying hard to justify spending the money as I love purple! I might even ride on rainy days with one of these to keep me dry. 

Fashion and two wheels

Yesterday I received a catalogue from one of my favourite clothing chains, Blue Illusion. While most of their clothing isn't pure cotton or wool, the style of much of it is perfect for me; lovely cardigans with out-of-the-ordinary touches, and I bought the ultimate little black dress last spring that dresses up with high heels or down with bovver boots.

Anyway, back to the catalogue. My husband handed it to me, and my first squawk of delight wasn't about the clothes, it was about the bike on the cover.

http://www.blueillusion.com/images/assetimages/cat_WINTER2011_Cover.jpg

Now it's not a super duper upmarket charmer like a Pashley or Velorbis, but it's a nice enough 80s vintage bike albeit in a frightful shade of pink akin to freshly sanded piglet. I squinted to make out the headbadge...it appears to be a star. It's been rebuilt and looks like it has all new parts which makes me think that Sydney Vintage Bikes or Melbourne Vintage Bikes did it up and sold it on eBay and....

I must have been muttering to myself because my husband was roaring with laughter: "You are the only person I know who would get a clothing catalogue and look at the bike instead!" 

Heh heh.

Affordable cashmere and silk/cotton cardis

Earlier this month I mentioned that in my Great Wardrobe Cleanout I was replacing some awful synthetic stuff (that didn't even fit nicely if the truth be known) with cashmere and silk blend cardigans from a company called Woolovers. I did promise to post a review when the goodies arrived. I'm still waiting on one which is on backorder and should be here next week, but can happily say that the cashmere/mrerino blend and silk/cotton blend cardigans are just lovely.

When the parcel arrived - only a week to come from the UK with a very reasonable postage cost to Oz of 14 quid/$20 - my husband was home and asked me what it was.

"Cardigans," I replied happily, impatience almost making me rip the plastic postpak with my teeth.

"Of course it is. It's coming on summer." He shook his head. This is a man who owns four pairs of shoes. He doesn't understand the female clothing gene. Which is probably lucky or we'd really be fighting for wardrobe space.

These lovely cardigans are transeasonal, however. Certainly the cashmere/merino is too hot for summer, except for those nights when the cool change has come and you're sitting outside actually getting cold when the temperature suddenly drops from 35 to 22.

So... the cashmere/merino blend cardi, which is pictured at left:  I ordered this in lilac and black. Unfortunately because the site uses Flash to let you have a look at selected colours I can't show you it in the colours I chose. I wear quite a lot of purple and lilac shades, and had an awful hand me down puce-ish cardigan which did transeasonal duty for my purples. It's now gone to charity and the lovely lilac one will take its place. And as for black - a girl can't have too many black cardigans. This one replaces another cheapie.

The fabric is soft, and has a reasonable cashmere feel but not as soft as 100% (and unaffordable) cashmere: it's 30% cashmere and 70% merino, and machine washable on a gentle cycle.

The fit is gorgeous. It's a fitted cardigan so if you have a waist, it shows it off. I chose the v-neck version rather than the round neck as it does a bit more for my body shape; I have big boobs, to my despair. If you've got 'em, flaunt 'em I suppose. The v-neck at least makes me look like I have two separate boobs whereas roundneck cardigans can give one that 'monoboob' look.

The sleeves aren't TOO long, either. I hate sleeves around my wrists unless it's perishing cold. 3/4 sleeves are my friends for a lot of the year and while this isn't a 3/4 sleeve it's not a nuisance length either.

On to the silk/cotton cardigan now. I ordered this in black (again? you ask) and blueberry which is a deep purple. This fabric is much finer and lighter. It's the perfect summer cardi, and the attention to detail with the frilly edges and faux pearl buttons is a delight. Sadly it's not a v-neck but the neck is low enough that it highlights your assets :-).

Once again a superb fit. I've worn this one already to a business meeting and it accentuates my waist without pulling at the buttons and causing gaps. The sleeves in the pic look a little long, and perhaps they are, but they push back and stay back readily.

The fabric is machine washable on a gentle cycle - although I'll be putting this delicate little cardigan into a lingerie bag if I machine wash it. I tend to do my wools by hand but modern woollens are more able to be gently machine washed I've found.

Both cardigan styles come with extra buttons and on the silk/cotton one extra matching thread, which is a nice touch.

The Woolovers site claims it uses British wool but only has one line called British Wool. I suspect that despite badging itself as fine British knitwear the garments themselves are made in China. Nowhere on the garments does it state the country of manufacture but there's a little inspection tag on the inside with Chinese characters, so you can make up your own mind about that. It would explain the affordability of the cardigans. The quality, however, looks good. No loose threads, buttons sewed on tightly.

In short, I'm impressed. I've tried on several affordable/similarly priced cardigans here in chain stores, and haven't liked the fabric or the fit. To get the same blends of cashmere and silk I'd have to pay a lot more in a high street or department store. And the fit is perfect; fit is what I'm happy to pay for, and these cardigans make me feel like I look good.

Places I love to shop at for merino and other woollen garments

I mentioned my love of Icebreaker clothing in a post a few days ago.

Icebreaker is lovely; you can wear it cycling or on other outdoor excursions, and it's equally smart under a jacket for work. In summer the superfine wool is cooler than a cotton t-shirt and much cooler than anything synthetic. It's great for holidays as it really doesn't pick up odours. I confess to trying this out last summer, wearing the same tshirt for a week. Before you recoil in horror, it didn't pong after seven days. It felt fresh each day when I put it on.

The price of all this perfection and adaptability is...the price. Icebreaker is expensive in anyone's language; you'll rarely find it on sale if you walk into adventure, ski or outdoor shops. At least any items you might actually like won't be on sale.

But I've never bought Icebreaker from a retail high street shop, shopping in person. I've bought my pieces online.

For Aussies, the best Icebreaker bargains are at bivouac.co.nz.  The Aussie dollar is strong against the Kiwi dollar, and this shop always has a wide range of Icebreaker and usually has something nice on special.

When international postage was somewhat cheaper last year and before I picked up a couple of Icebreaker pieces cheaply from BackCountry. Now, however, postage from North America has skyrocketed in cost. It's no longer a bargain and I'm better off buying from the Kiwis.

Moving on from Icebreaker, Australian and NZ catalogue shop Ezibuy carries a range of outdoor merino wear - Isobar. I 've bought two tops from them when they've been on sale. The first was of equal quality to Icebreaker, the second was *almost* there but not quite. The second item I bought was a heavyweight merino - ie 260gm - zip front sweater, and I picked up a similar item in Icebreaker in a different colour last summer and noticed the weave was not as tight nor the merino as fine in the Isobar. Isobar's base layer long-sleeved top, which was my first purchase, is excellent however.

Ezibuy also carries fine merino clothing for everyday wear. Admittedly the knit isn't as tight as the outdoor wear, and the $30 tunic I bought nearly two years ago has not held its shape as well as I thought. However, at least it's wool, and merino at that, and it's very reasonably priced on the whole. I also bought a couple of normal wear merino waist-length tops from Ezibuy and they have held their shape just fine.

Kathmandu outdoor clothing store had a sale on last month and I scored a pale mauve long-sleeved merino top for $60, down from an astonishing $149. The quality is there at first glance; I haven't worn the top yet but am saving it for next autumn or a really cool day (unlikely now before next autumn).

Piece by piece I'm getting rid of synthetic tops and where possible bottoms from my wardrobe and replacing them with natural products such as wool and cotton. Hence I troll the net for specials on merino and other wool.

Pure cashmere is out of my reach unless it's made in China and I do try and avoid clothes made in China if I can. (Sadly Icebreaker is now made in China as its sales have skyrocketed and the cost of producing the clothes in lovely NZ is now prohibitive.) There have been health scares with chemicals used in the production of cheap Chinese clothing - typically polycotton blend tops of the cheapest variety - with formaldehyde the main chemical culprit. It makes the clothes nice and crisp looking when they're on the rack but can cause severe reactions in the wearer.

But... I've now found an affordable site for Cashmere blends - Woolovers. The link is to the Aussie version of the site but it IS international with sites pertinent to the UK, US, Canada and NZ, and the prices are amazing. I've ordered a Cashmere/Merino cardigan from these guys and it's on the way to me as I write. Expect an update when I've received my cardigan - affordable cashmere! Oh joy! I can't find anywhere on the site saying the garments are made in China, so I do have some high hopes here.

Musings on a wardrobe

Twice a year I go through my wardrobe, ready for the change of seasons. It's a mysterious fact that once I've done this there are never enough coathangers available yet there were before I started and apparently a similar number of items get taken out and replaced with the next season's! :-)

I usually do the ready-for-summer gig on the first weekend in October, as it's typically warm enough by then to put the big woolies away. But this October was unseasonally wet and cool. I wore a heavy winter jumper a couple of days and we had the heater on at night - and even during the day last week. Bizarre. This is Sydney. October is usually in the mid 20s.

However the cool weather has gone for good I think, so, tempting fate and daring her to send another cold snap, I sorted my clothes this morning. A charity bag (which isn't really full enough), a washing/ironing pile and a hangup pile.

I'm a dreadful hoarder. What annoys me about me is that I can't even get rid of clothes I don't like any more. Take a camel-coloured pullover tunic I have. It looks like a sack of potatoes on me. I rarely wear it. But...the colour is good especially with black and cream, and it's pure new wool rather than an acrylic blend. So after much humming and hahhing I tossed it into the Wash and Keep pile. Don't worry, the charity bag hasn't left the house yet, I may still decide to chuck it in there at the last minute.

I have heavy cotton sweaters from the late 80s/early 90s which I might wear once a year. They are white, and a pig to wash as one of them has red satin embroidery and dye on it and runs like Phar Lap at the first sign of water. Yet I keep them, year after year. Once a year I might wear them out to a friend's house, as the style of the sweaters doesn't scream about their era. The one with red satin I bought in Paris so that has sentimental value, and they were both quite expensive so I hesitate to give them away.

And there are the jumpers my mum knitted me in the 80s. Very much a labour of love and even though I don't wear them any more I can't get rid of them. I just can't. I feel guilty at the thought. Mum spent hours on them, particularly one with a checkerboard pattern, green leaves and knitted roses sewn on the jumper. So they take up space, mothballed but sacred.

Am I alone in this? How many of you out there are ruthless? How many can say, "Pah! I didn't wear that top at all last year, or the year before. Into the charity bag with it"? If that's you, I envy you.

I have, though, finally decided to sell on eBay some clothes that I...er...bought on eBay. These are a couple of vintage gowns from the 1960s. The cheong-sam is a bit tight and I HATE the high collar I've decided; it chokes me. The white one with flowers is too big. And it's nylon so I boil in it. I've worn it once and felt glamorous, but in a meriingue-like way.

And finally there's this one below, which I didn't buy on eBay but paid, in retrospect, too much for in a boutique nearly ten years ago. I adore the colours but it doesn't fit me any more and while I am losing weight, I doubt whether I'll wear it again. If it sells, it sells. If it doesn't it'll go back into the wardrobe and I'll try it on again when more weight comes off. It zips up OK right now but I look six months' pregnant. Not a good look. I do adore the colours though.

One thing I AM turfing out is the cheap t-shirts and knitted cotton tops which collect little balls of pill on them. Made in China, they stretch out of shape in the first season. I used to buy cheap t-shirts because they were, well, cheap. And I can't reason paying $50+ for a cotton t-shirt just 'cos it's made by Esprit or Gap or some other label.

I discovered Icebreaker clothing last year. Beautiful, beautiful fine merino wool. And it's spoiled me forever for cheap t-shirts. I bought one Icebreaker tshirt and was so impressed by it that when I have a good month financially and there's something suitable on special I buy another Icebreaker piece. They are well made, and well-designed enough to wear under business suits (I'm not a blouse or shirt person). I live in them. I buy mine from a website in NZ (which means they are relatively cheap as the NZ dollar is even weaker than ours, and postage over the Tasman is pretty cheap too). They are cooler in summer than cotton tees and dry much quicker on the line. They hold their shape. They don't pill. They don't need ironing, which is good 'cos I'm busy enough ironing kaftans in summer (see below).

Selling these frocks on eBay may give me the wherewithal for another Icebreaker t-shirt - well, that's the plan anyway. And there's an Icebreaker sale on right now at my usual Icebreaker website.

So while the charity bag isn't as full as it could be, there are plenty of tshirts in there. I have more in the wash pile to join them.

My other summer clothing love is kaftans. Not the full-on 1970s Demis Roussos versions, but lovely cotton hipskimmers from places like The Tie Rack, which has stores in Australia. Last summer was so abysmally hot and humid I ended up buying half a dozen cotton kaftans in beautiful colours and patterns. Rich purples, lime greens, cool aquas and whites. The long sleeves protect your arms from the harsh Aussie sun, and the loose fit allows air to circulate. They are brilliant for cycling in. 

And finally - I sorted out my makeup as well this morning. All those lipsticks, blushes, eye makeup and foundation I don't use anymore as the colour looks naff on me. The winner was a mauve lipstick from 1985. Yes, 1985. I'd kept it to wear with purple stuff in summer but realistically hadn't used it in ten years. Behold:

Wave it goodbye - the garbage collection is Wednesday morning.