Thursday, 12 June 2008

Car Boot Sale

My current unemployment and months of interning have left my finances in a rather sorry state.A few things give me a shortlived but very welcome surge of energy and they are Krispie Kremes and Oreos (amongst many other food items)listening to my favourite songs in an empty house allowing to sing with all my lung capacity, seeing someone that makes my heart flutter and of course shopping and more importantly a purchase.
Knowing that seeing is wanting I have tried to avoid venturing to some of my favourite haunts but even though I state purchasing is the important part I did so miss seeing what was hanging on the rails , being worn by the punky haired mannequinns,touching and stroking the different garments and seeing the
overpriced labels swinging as people rushed from rail to rail.
I have always been a guilty shopper. Its inbuilt ,part of my genes or DNA ,just like my short legs, ability to sweat in the coldest winters and leg hair that seems to grow immediately after Ive shaved. I think although it is inbuilt my upbringing has undoubtadly enhanced this. I often wore hand me down clothes, they were good quality and from friends rather than utraceables from charity shops but at times were not exactly trend lead or appealing to self conscious child wanting to fit in. They often had garish bright coloured animals on them, matching short and top sets, when everyone was wearing flares I had tapered shaped trousers and wheneveryone had plain black leggings with white socks I had abstract print ones. Its occurs ot me though that today I would be happy to stand out from the crowd although with the prints we saw on the catwalk this season at Chloe and alike perhap I should have kept hold of the leggings.
It really taught me to apprecaite getting brand new clothes, or just clothes that I had picked myself, so when I do I still feal a sense of getting a treat so if I do it too often i therefore feel like I am spoiling myself.

I decided that shopping with a budget may be the key to a less guilty shop but still delivering buzz you get from a purchase. For months I did the cheap highstreet purchases and charity shop browsing. This was fine for a while but soon I was frustrated by seeing everyone in my clothes and they already didnt feel particualrly special because I knew of their minimal cost .

So, recently I got an invite from a freind to go to a car boot. I didn't have high expectations I just thought it a nice change to watching shipwrecked on a sunday morning. So we arrived with our budgets of £10. I had expected to see brik a brak, assortments of copper Kettles, china and glass ornaments, old records coins, and medals.
It took a while to build momentum but once we did we were stealth, we could see our oponents (the people looking over your shoulder and trying to muscle in on the bargains)and almost as if we have a target diagram in our eyes we could track down the appropriate stalls . Some layed out on rails others in huge piles which we would immerse ourselves, hoping we'd find the prize article before the other.The piles were almost more fun than the neat rails, a great discovery under the mounds of crap was so trimphant!
For £10 I went away with a rigid but rather chic navy riding jacket with a velvet collar, a hippy, print dress made in Afghanistan,A polka dot shift dress(timeless), a fitted tweed jacket with puff sleeves, a midnight blue orintal jacket from Shanghai , a chained very chanelesque bag and a red leather clutch. Not only did I spend very little, I felt less guilty( I was recycling in a sense), bought things that I knew I wouldn't see my friends in and had a day which felt like a modern day treasure hunt!
Big thumbs up
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First Blog

I begin this first blog with hazy eyes in part due to ghastly seasonal hayfever and also due to the fact my last few nights have only had intermittant sessions of rest. Changing sleeping positions, watching old Ally Mcbeals and Sex in the Citys, opening my bedroom window, closing my bedroom window and then resorting to going downstairs and going online, hoping that the glaring computer screen will tire my eyes so they have no choice but to close. This sequence of action is occuring so frequently I am stirred to find a resolve.

Having an outlet for my thoughts and ideas has become a necessity to be able to continue to function as a human being. The nights are spent awake , words and images floating around my head with an all engrossing fear of losing them forever once I lose consciousness . The regret that the misplaced thoughts will never return and that it could have been one to make a difference is pure torture.
I had diaries for many years to vent any personal struggles and scribble with frustrated gusto until I almost ripped the pages with the pen nib. Having something tangible like a diary , left an underlying anxiety that someday an unsolicted person would read the contents.... I cannot bring myself to destroy them though , I do wonder what will become of them in the future and whether they will ever be read again...
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