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I so blew it last week. My sister wanted to go shopping at HarbourTown. This proved to be temptation town for a retail-deprived girl like me. I thought I'd be ok. Most of the time I don't find anything I like when I do go shopping. But this day at HarbourTown was diabolically alluring. Slinky, off-shoulder tops, half-priced dress coats, sparkly shoes and cute-as bikinis made me feel frumpy, frugal and frustrated. When I saw a work shirt for $10 I caved. This was cheaper than an op shop. The fabric was brand new and smelt of starch. The colour was this season's azure blue and work clothes surely top the list of emergency retail buys. Afterward I swore to return during the post-Christmas sales with a fistful of cash. "I'm going to go on a $1000 spending spree." I said, eyes glinting maniacally at the shopfront window with a cute sundress on display. My sister took half a step back. Maybe at next year's sales, and maybe just $500 I recanted. She agreed.
Still felt rotten though.
One of the things that takes the shine off Christmas is all the shiny crap. It seems decorating at the silly end of the year consists of madly slinging tinsel around everything in sight. Or putting faux reindeer antlers on the sides of your vehicle. And especially, filling a vase with baubles. That in itself sums it up doesn't it. Taking a box of pretty things that are made by the million by people who don't even know what Christmas is about and pouring them into a bowl.
I admire the artistic eye that can create new and innovative presentations the tradition of tossing this year's decorations in the bin was just not right.
Being newlyweds meant our Christmas decorations amounted to an heirloom bauble and some fairy lights so there was only one thing to do.
Get crafty.
I gather all the existing shiny crap I already have and place it on the outdoor table. It amounts to two glitter tubs, eight conch shells, an old May Gibbs diary, a sketch pad, some colour pencils and some triffids.
The last thing on that list might not sound promising but they turned out to be the saving grace of my crafty endeavour. Every rental has an OMG factor that keeps it in the rental market. The dirt beneath our house house was smothered by trailing, twisted tree roots. My husband had attacked them one day with a machete and piled them up in a corner. They were spongy and covered in dirt but I had big plans for our triffids. They were going to make us a Christmas wreath.
After an hour or so of staring at and fiddling with triffids, shells and sketch paper I gave up. I was completely unqualified to take on the task of creating something circular out of something straight.
The next day my husband looked at the sticks and asked, "Were you trying to make a wreath?" "You could tell?" I said with hope in my voice. "Well, only just. Would you like me to help you?" Within thirty seconds my miracle of a husband had stripped the spongy, damp bark off the outside of the triffids and created a small, wonderful wreath.
Together we spent the next three hours tearing branches out of the garden and weaving three wonderful wreaths. They looked incredible. Like something out of Country Style only we hadn't bought them out of the store. We hadn't even used a kit. They didn't contain anything bought from a store. They were our creation.
After suspending an heirloom bauble from the centre and hanging the wreath from the ceiling I felt good. When we decided to give one wreath to my husband's grandparents I felt even better. And when people admired our handiwork it felt an awful lot like Christmas.
Just before our one year wedding anniversary I realised I was going to have to give my husband a homemade gift. And being a traditionalist, it was going to be made out of paper. This would be ok if I was any good at craft. Or if it wasn't going to be measured against his gift for me which was a weekend away at the same place we said I do.
My style-conscious hubby had once told me that if I ever began making spit-ball bowls it would all be over. So that ruled out collage.
Then, inspiration struck. During our whirlwind romance we had joked about writing a romance novel - could it be any more perfect than to write a romance novel recording our courtship and first year of marriage? The only problem was a small matter of time, I had just one day to create it.
First stop was the op shop for a book cover. I found a classic 80's issue from the Ecstasy Candlelight series titled aptly, For Better Or For Worse. Getting home I made myself familiar with the writing style before tearing out all the pages. Rifling through my husband's desk I found some parchment colour in just the right shade of aged yellow.
The formula for writing a romance novel is simple. Let the plot revolve sexual tension between two unlikely characters then apply lots of steam.
A sweet dedication to the children we'll someday have shared they might accidentally stumble across our love story secreted inside a tacky romance novel.
Then, the all-important teaser. This involved our first near brush with a kiss and a breathless moment as I realise a perfect match board game may have predicted the love of my life after all.
Then you get into the story, how I was torn between two suitors and driven mad with desire while held back by fear.
It was all too easy once I got started and before I knew it, I had a gripping romance tale worthy of any bedside table.
My printer created quite an authentic-looking book font and after gluing it together and tying it with ribbon I had completed my masterpiece. I knew that the glue wouldn't hold the pages terribly well and the book desperately needed editing but for once I knew my dearest would be impressed.
And judging from the fact we didn't leave the hotel room all weekend I think it's safe to say he felt pretty romantic after reading our love story. For the first time, I'm seeing how much good could come out of a year of nothing new and feeling more committed than ever.
I spent my first week of 'nothing new' desperately wanting to shop.
Not because I am addicted to shopping but more because I was trying to quit. It's a little like ordering potato and leek soup only to be told it's unavailable. If it had never been on the menu you would have been perfectly happy having a salad but because you feel like you're missing out, you suddenly feel like the potato and leek soup is the only thing in the world you feel like eating
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I'm going to say upfront, right now that my little experiment is definitely not a pioneering effort. In fact, this endeavour is inspired by an article I read in this month's issue of Vogue that covered the lifestyle of a Scavenger. They take frugal consumerism to the extreme and can usually be found headfirst in a dumpster.
I'm not too proud to say that I'm way too proud to do that
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The first thing I desperately had to do on my first day of buying nothing new was to go shopping. A belt was desperately needed for my jumpsuit so off to the op shop we went.
I have a love-hate relationship with secondhand stores. They almost lost my patronage completely when they decided to go all commercial, drag in some mannequins and pass off seventies gear as retro chic. But with a committment to shunning the wastefulness of new, it was either head down to Lifeline or learn to tan leather
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I'm going to stop buying new things for a year and I'm going to write about it in this blog each day. My recent travels overseas triggered it. Even a linen shirt weighs heavily upon your back when you're trudging along a sweltering jungle path. And a queue at customs around 3am can make your luggage feel heavier than the 747 that carried you there. It all made me wonder if it would be helpful to go on a retail fast. A cleansing of the shopping intestinal tract that gets hyped up on the candy of shoe stores and crashes with a sugary low when the credit card bill arrives. So as of today, the 15th November 2010 I am shunning all new things new and sparkling. I'll find a way to shop that is good for the retail soul and good for the wider world too. Stay tuned, this won't be easy.
The mining tax was a brave move that cost Kevin Rudd his job and made him a martyr for the cause of economic fairness for all Australians. His mistake was not making it very loud and clear why the tax should go ahead in front of a bunch of television cameras. If so, we would have heard that mining companies have enjoyed some tax-free loans from the taxpayers over the years. Now that things are going well, it's reasonable to expect some of that money to be repaid and reinvested into aspects of Australia's economy that are falling down. Instead, he assumed that his word was everyone's command. As a result, mining companies began crying poor using very expensive television spots and full-page newspaper ads. And silly Rudd panicked, thinking the only way to fight propoganda is with propoganda. But as I like to say, if you fight fire with fire, you only end up with a bigger fire.
A fiery redhead came up with a big bucket of water to stop the fire turning the Labor Party into ash. Julia Gillard is the first female prime minister of this country and the first to gain her position via mutiny. And now everyone is scratching their heads and wondering, 'Doesn't a political party make decisions as a team?' 'How did Kevin Rudd not see this coming?' 'Was this the plan from the beginning?' Rudd was voted in because we could trust him to be fair and diligent and not indulge in dirty tricks or subterfuge. Like the nerdy kid at school he desperately wanted to be cool which meant attending strip shows, swearing in public and picking on big, bad, eco-enemies like miners. But all he got in the end was a swift kick in the nuts by a big girl who said he was a loser and made him cry in front of the whole country
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What is really puzzling about the oil catastrophe is that so far, everyone is keeping their jobs. Well, everyone who works for BP anyway. The shrimp farmers are screwed.
It was the US government themselves who announced it is in everyone's best interests that BP continue their job of providing over-priced fuel and destroying planet earth. This sounds to me a bit like a postal van crashing into my lounge room and being told they should continue driving through the house to the street on the other side to complete the mail run on time
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Have you noticed how many machines are being manufactured to perform an elementary cooking task? Its almost as though people see some vacant bench space in their kitchen and think, 'Must fill that'.
My rant today was inspired with a sighting of a plastic "Cocktail Maker". The fact it was gathering dust in a second-hand store indicates its history. Someone bought it for a cocktail party. They probably stopped making cocktails thanks to the very non-party-like whirring noise it made and dumped it in the op shop bin they woke up in
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Comment by Rachelle
on COPS ARE TOPS
A La Solo
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The Year of Nothing New