To market, to market…

Anyone who loves wearing vintage knows you need to put in the hours hunting through piles of tat before finding a keeper. There are favourites I will hold on to forever, such as the black suede Chanel pumps from a Battersea op shop snapped up for 8 quid (oh what an inheritance you’ll have, Olive – I hope you like clothes) but many more I recycle again so they can go on to a life with someone new. Someone who loves and appreciates them and (most importantly) takes them to some fabulous parties.

Yesterday the lovely Katrina and I raided our stash, liberating old friends who were looking a little lacklustre back there in the recesses of our wardrobes. Off to Rozelle (my favourite flea market in Sydney) where we watched them walk away and shed nary a tear…

One day I’ll write a novel like Annie Proulx’s The Accordian Crimes or The Red Violin, but about a cheeky little frock who gets about and lives in more cities than I ever will. Wouldn’t that be fun?