All I can say is - what a gig.
Photo Credit: Anna Harding
Photo Credit: Louisa Revolta
Signed Sealed Delivered
Nothing is as satisfying as receiving mail. I occasionally get letters, postcards appear sporadically, but online shopping deliveries are a frequent arrival in my mail box - possibly a little too frequently for my bank account to successfully cope with but let's not focus on that right now. I'm a huge fan of ebay and a regular ASOS customer but recently it's Etsy, a diverse marketplace selling everything from greetings cards to swimwear, that my heart belongs to.
Etsy is where beautiful and ridiculous dreams are made - literally handmade, by creative brilliant people who seem to know what every person wants before they know it themselves. I have lost entire afternoons and evenings to this website because it's simply not possible to escape a search engine circle.
For example, I typed in my current TV obsession Parks and Recreation and found these:
www.etsy.com/shop/thelordoftheearrings
Quite frankly, my ears feel naked without them.
Obviously, the next logical search to type in would be one that combined two of my favourite things, vintage travel posters and Harry Potter.
https://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/TheSeventhArtShop
They actually exist. I could have these hanging on my walls in a matter of days, and my life would be complete.
I always end these Etsy sessions with a broad search of 'the 1940s', a decade which is close to my heart (see www.thespitfiresisters.co.uk and twitter.com/spitfiresisters). The results are endless and totally absorbing. A few of my current favourites:
This amazing '40s coffee pot.
www.etsy.com/shop/theoldtimejunkshop
A 1940s pie dish - I have no idea how to cook but I'd give it a good old go if I had this to cook with.
I can't recommend exploring Etsy enough. Get involved. Find some much needed television based accessories or a lovingly refurbished vintage tea set, and look forward to something exciting arriving in your mail box.
Hold Me Tight And Don't Let Go
This article originally appeared in Vintage Life Magazine
I'm wearing dungarees. My life is in boxes. I'm eating cereal straight out the packet because I packed all the bowls. I'm mildly stressed.
I'm also massively excited. My room was beyond the point of tidying, and the tidying was never going to happen, so I can just sweep it all up and tidy as I unpack at my next place. While moving isn't renowned as the easy way to get out of cleaning and tidying, it is regarded as a highly appropriate moment to get rid of some things. Throw some stuff away. Create a new start with less clutter. Go for a minimalist approach.
I'm ignoring that. My name is Hannah, and I can't throw anything away.
I like to collect things, and to keep things, and to find things again that remind me of the past. It can be my past or someone else's past, but I like the idea of time travelling via objects that I've kept for reasons I can't always remember. I've kept so many birthday cards, postcards and tickets that I have several shoe boxes full of the things. When I go into charity shops, the first things I search for are the old photo albums or loose photographs and letters. It breaks my heart to see things like that that aren't claimed. I want to look at the faces in the photograph, investigate the story behind them, and learn their history.
That's the reason I find it so hard to part with things; I can pick something up in my room and remember where I was and who I was with when I found it in the first place. I have books on my shelves that people recommended to me but I haven't got around to reading yet, and I have records that are waiting to be played that I purchased because their cover art was so beautiful. I have a problem with clothing as well; my wardrobe rails were buckling under the weight of knitwear, and yet I still think I'll wear every sweater I've ever owned this winter, even though everyone knows (including myself although I'm in denial about the whole situation) that I'll wear the old man charity shop sweater until December, and the 90s LL Bean fisherman's jumper until February, and all the others will wait patiently on their hangers just begging to be worn.
I'll try and be ruthless when I'm moving this time around, because the packing process is hugely delayed by my sentimentality. I think I am addicted to the feeling that I will have things in the future that will be able to transport me straight back to this moment and the moments that came before it, and I find that unbelievably comforting.
Four thousand jumpers, but I've packed the only two bowls I own. I reckon cereal tastes better straight out the packet anyway.