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.

Mondays

Mondays. We all hate 'em. It's not just day-one-of-five psychology, either. I swear there are more meetings on Mondays. Public transportation is busier, and smellier. The skies are gloomier. The gods themselves frown upon us from on high, bearing their lightning bolts to rain down upon the wicked and the bored... OK, perhaps that's an exaggeration. But you can forgive my mind for some unrestrained wandering after a day of endless paperwork and Office Space-style TPS reports.

I do, however, have a secret Monday-beating technique. A weekly ritual so sunny, so effervescently adorable, that every time I perform it, I expect puppies to jump at my feet and Doris Day to appear at my side, singing wistfully into the distance. Are you ready? Here is the Monday prescription:
1. Dress in hoop skirt, ballet flats, and plenty of red ribbons.
2. Pick flower from nearby garden to twirl distractedly near mouth
3. Lean against old-fashioned lamppost
4. Wait for beautiful boy in crisp shirt to also lean against lamppost
5. "Accidentally" touch shoulders
6. Live happily every after.

Admittedly, numbers 4 through 6 rely on some measure of good luck. But it happened once, I swear! He was perfect: tall and neat, broad but ever-so-slightly willowy, like Rob Pattinson minus the disturbing "century old vampire" thing. We leaned, we touched shoulders, we lived happily ever after... well, at least until he mentioned he was waiting for his fiance.

But still I keep the faith! And now, like a character in one of those chicken soup stories, I pay it forward. Today, I present you the opportunity to hold the hope of such a moment in your purse. This delightful vintage cherry-red printed handkerchief depicts my exact Monday cure, and as an added bonus, if the boy doesn't show up, you can blow your nose on his picture. Come on chickadees, it's win-win.

Deets below, pics at TradeMe: http://www.trademe.co.nz/Clothing/Womenswear/Accessories/Other/auction-255865728.htm

And don't forget to let me Tweet you (that never stops sounding dirty): http://twitter.com/vintagemadam

Love and Fridays,
The Vintage Madam.

PS. If the boys don't stay of their own volition, try handcuffing one to the lamppost. He might not even complain!

Condition:	Almost perfect; a teency bit of fraying on the bottom edge
Measurements:	28cm x 28cm
Features:	1950s romance print; cherry red colour