A friend suggested “go with anything orange (purse, scarf) and “old gold” type jewellery… I would even consider green, you need something to break the dark and pastel colors…”
I liked the idea of orange. In the Netherlands I wouldn’t wear it except on the queens birthday – strictly ironic, obviously -, because of its royalist connotations . Here in the UK, I’m free to do as I please.
Problem was that I own only one accessory with any orange. I wore that on day 6. In the morning I took the kids to a Stay and Play session at the school across the park. It was pouring and the boys were loving it. Chasing them in and out of puddles was fun, but my trousers got completely soaked. When I got home, I put on my pj’s (i.e. track suit bottom) and spent much of the day like this:
Not good, of course. So on day 7, I rededicated to the challenge and did some sewing on my t-shirt. Originally, I was going to add a silver grey piece, but my eye caught a splash of orange in my fabric stash and there was orange item number 2. I added a vintage cream-and-old-gold necklace and a yellow bag. Never knew that yellow on yellow can work.
The weather was lovely, hot even, and we went to the playground:
Then I hit the jackpot. Every first full weekend of the month, the people on our estate put their unwanted stuff on tat tables underneath one of the arches connecting our streets. I always find things I need (and more…), and this weekend it seemed my guardian angle had whispered into some people’s ears. I came out with the brightest orange nailpolish, like, ever, hippydippy orange trousers, and – after talking to one of the organisers about this challenge – her friend’s grandmother’s sewing kit. Treasure!!! Gold buttons, gold thread, and enough bits and pieces to last a beginning sewer for a long while.
I also remembered some orange baby cloths that were never used because I thought they were too pretty. I made a coin purse, bracelet and a headband:
Day 8 I visited the monthly swap shop of Mancunian sewing collective Stitched Up in counterculture arts venue/pub The Black Lion in Salford, at a two minute walk from Manchester’s shopaholics’ Market Street. I took all their shoes, even the ones not in my size, and on my way back home I had a rummage through the tat table again. Greedy, me: