Back in Action

As you can probably tell, I have been away for Christmas. Like the rest of the country, my togs are full of sand and I'm ready to kill my rellies. Also: I'm possibly still drunk. [Sluuurrrr...]

But I'm also super excited about greeting my wardrobe again! Hello Mr. 1980s blazer, oh how I missed you! Ms. 60s clutch, my how well you look!

Sometimes they talk back, I swear!

Embarrassing discussions with inanimate objects aside, I hope you're all restored with pavlova and lack of work because you'll want to be fully functional for this:

Fire engine red 1950s style pumps.

$1 reserve.

Awesomeness.

Yes, perhaps it's the eggnog, or perhaps it's residual Christmas spirit, but I'm feeling generous. Too generous, maybe, since these are probably too delicious to let go for a steal...

Ooh err...

Fortunately for you, I have big-ass feet, and the women of the 1950s did not. My prodigious viewing of old movies tells me they were all delicate and wasp-waisted, like Audrey Hepburn. They were also all lost princesses and/or seductive society types. Simpler times.

Anyway, if you have smallish feet, get on over to TradeMe pronto! Because seriously, these are a find. A teency bit scuffed, as you would expect with vintage shoes, but with a touch o' polish they'll be showstoppers.

In fact, I'd venture a guess they've literally stopped shows. Previous owner hypotheses: movie star. Chorus girl. Roxie Hart. Or all three: Renee Zellweger.

In stilletoes, she would look like a working girl. In 50s era shoes: a goddess.

But enough speculation. Here are the linkies:
http://www.trademe.co.nz/Browse/Listing.aspx?id=262560253&ed=true
http://twitter.com/vintagemadam

Happy shopping!

Love and show-stopping,
The Vintage Madam.

PS. The guy in the first picture is a real "comedian." Talking shoes are his real "act." Next time you have nothing to do on a Saturday night, take comfort in the fact that you're still cooler than somebody.

Another Xmas rant, and a pretty purse to make up for it

So. I know I ranted in my last post about the horrors of Christmas socialising. But after knocking off a few tepid parties in the last few days, I've got a second wind.

Why, oh WHY must all workplaces host the same dull affair? Honestly, there's no need for Christmas party planners anymore. Here's the formula: rent a local RSA hall or the meeting rooms of a bowling club. Supply cheap bubbles and smoked salmon of questionable freshness. Hire a cover band and teach them some supposedly 'hip' carols; Mariah Carey knockoff singer optional. For bonus points, charge attendees for their meal and ask them to invite spouses and friends so that as many people as possible are subjected to the madness. Oh, then add one sleazy boss. Job done.

Your boss at 7pm

Your boss at midnight.

But never fear, I have a plan. Ever seen "Ocean's 11"? OK, well it's a bit like that, but minus the high-scale thievery and the mob-like Vegas casino owners and the absurdly attractive men.

Picture one hot mama in neck-to-toe black latex, whip and gag in hand. Picture her legions of readers and sympathisers in tow, Burberry trenches hiding various torture devices and killer pencil skirts. Our Humbug Army will go after the event planners first; their office polls of "chicken or beef" will become incoherent chickerbeefy dying gurgles. Then we'll take down the sleazy bosses, impaling their throats with scratchy mistletoe until they cough in mangled renditions of "White Christmas."

Finally we'll tackle the big guy:

Pictured: our goons. Don't worry, I know a guy who knows some guys.

When it's all over, December will be ours again. OURS, for normal summer fun and evenings spent with real friends, not Linda from Accounts.

Or, we could just put up with a month of lame parties. If that's your preference, I can at least offer you a classy purse.


OK pikers, the purse it is. Frankly, I don't blame you. This is unlabelled, but it looks enticingly like an authentic 1950s clutch, complete with fancy embroidery and heavy click-clasp. This is the kind of piece that - like a fine artwork or a Baywatch alum - will never age.

So get in quick to TradeMe: http://www.trademe.co.nz/Browse/Listing.aspx?id=259500268&ed=true
And, of course, Twitter: http://twitter.com/vintagemadam

Until tomorrow,
Love and cheap bubbles,
The Vintage Madam.

It's a vintage BONANZA!

It's almost Christmas. Yes, that time of year has rolled around when one has to find things to say to one's great-aunts and pretend to be thrilled to receive yet another hand-knitted Santa sweater.

Meet my cousin Frank. Note the lack of spouse.

But this year, ladies, it is all worth it. This year, you will put up with all the drunk, handsy uncles and curdled eggnog life can throw at you because this year is special.

That's right, it's the first ever, potentially annual, super splendiforous VINTAGE MADAM SALEATHON!

Every item that's gone unsold up until now is back on auction, most at reduced prices. Dresses, hats, shoes, coats, everything you could ever want to gift (to yourself, let's be honest) is available now. It's like my wardrobe threw up or something. And ladies: my wardrobe pukes gold.

You can find all my wonderful pieces here: http://www.trademe.co.nz/Members/Listings.aspx?member=2983073
And don't forget to add me on Twitter here: http://twitter.com/vintagemadam

Go! Run! Trip over each other! Tear each other's hair out! Or proceed in an orderly fashion, it's up to you.

Love and SALES! Oh YES!
The Vintage Madam.