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'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.
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