I love my Auntie B like she was my real blood. However, when she and I and my Auntie M were shopping in Glasgow Friday I faced my biggest challenge ever when it came to why a person like me refashions.
A few caveats: we DON’T need to justify ourselves, we refashioners, and Auntie B IS right when she says I no longer have to ‘mend and make do’.
(Oh – Aunties B and M are the younger sisters of Auntie G, who married an American after the war, moved across the pond with him and was my late paternal grandmother’s best bud. When I need the advice or guidance of older International Women of Mystery, these are my go-to girls).
We had a lovely lunch then hit the shops. For the first time ever I went into a Primark. I was reminded of the cheap clothing stalls all over Asia, which then made me miss my HK peeps. The Aunties were buying clothes for assorted knee-biters in their circle and I wandered through the women’s section inspecting seams and fabric quality. I can see why people shop there. Auntie B was paying for her things so to entertain Auntie M I told her that I hate buying clothes in the UK since a USA 14 is an 18 and I simply can’t buy that size (not that there’s anything wrong with being an 18). She asked me what sort of sewing I was doing these days, which is how the subject of refashioning came up. The conversation continued as we crossed the street to the M&S to look for bright colored clothes for them to bring to their pal in Germany when they pop across to see her in the spring.
Auntie M seemed to get my original desire to remake my wardrobe and we proceeded to discuss the original World War II pamphlets on the subject that I’d seen in libraries around the UK. Auntie B made light of my hobby in a not unkind but rather bemused sort of way. She even seemed to suggest that it was my responsibility to help the economy by spending my husband’s don’t-call-it-a-bonus bonus this year! (Well, she did work in banking until she retired and runs the pensioner’s group for the bank she worked for so I’m rather sure she knows what Himself makes these days. He’s at work this Sunday, to the bemusement of HIS parents, who don’t understand why he doesn’t work 9-5 with a full hour for a hot sit-down lunch).
I’m never gonna forget the first few years when we were as poor as church mice and the next decade when we lived frugally to get our debt sorted and a good chunk of savings socked safely away for retirement. I can’t spend for the sake of spending. My garden this year will only have flowers from the seeds I harvested last year (cosmos, sweet pea, poppy, sunflowers and nasturtiums) and I am back to working on projects for the shabby chic conservatory (rule for there: only refashioned furniture and handmade items). That’s just me. It doesn’t matter if we won the next Euromillions triple rollover. Himself would quit his job and golf for the rest of his life (and work on the N-gauge) and the IWOM would continue as usual.
(To be fair, I suppose the House Red would be a hundred quid a bottle).
It is a challenge to remake things well. And there is a certain smugness among the refashionistas of the world when we walk into a Gap or Marks & Spencer’s and see all the things made to look like they have been remade. I presented these things to my Aunties but to them I think I will always be ‘our silly American niece’.
Wouldn’t have it any other way.
PS – True confessions: I bought a couple oversize sweaters from M&S (on sale, natch) for the sole purpose of refashioning! They fulfilled my Buying New Rule of great bargain, couldn’t make it for less and can wear for more than a season. Pictures at some point — garden work today though as the high winds of the past week have done some damage out there.
