This is getting beyond a joke. To answer Tasia’s recent question, I can tell you exactly how close my nearest fabric store is. Ten minutes down the road, with more fabric than Project Runway can dream of, some of it as little as £1 a metre. But this really takes the biscuit. I mean, who decided to put the devil quite literally on my shoulder?
Two minutes away from my house is an indoor market. It’s a fascinating warren of record shops and second hand furniture, cake bakers and book sellers. But it has always been on the neglected side of vintage and creative. Until now. Someone’s only gone and made a significant investment in the market. They’ve only had the audacity to encourage local creatives to set up stall here. They might as well start printing T-shirts saying, ‘Lead Karen in here and empty her purse, please.’ or ‘No, really, Karen doesn’t have anything better to do than nose around all day.’
So I went and had a nose around, didn’t I? People, I have to pass this place to go and buy a pint of milk.
Forsaken Dreams were the first people I met. They were lovely and extremely welcoming. We chatted about the initiative at the market and I could see straight away that some very lovely people had moved into my hood. (Yes. I just wrote ‘hood’. I know how old I am, you don’t need to remind me.)
Next up was a visit with Galina Sherri, henceforth to be known as the woman I must avoid at all costs if I don’t want to buy up half her shop:
IF I was ever commissioning a book on all things vintage and IF I was organising a photoshoot and IF I needed a props supplier, I would be hammering down this woman’s door. She’s good. Very, very good. When I mentioned my love of cocktail rings, she whipped out a bejewelled vintage Christian Dior. I admired politely and declined. But, of course, she already knew she had me. I bought something else instead:
Just so much trash. Not!
I reluctantly bid goodbye to Galina and went to stroll around the rest of the market.
Question. Why is this woman texting instead of sewing?
So, I thought I’d had an okay time. Then I turned the corner and saw this:
Anja is an amazing artist, who also happens to live across the road from me. But she’d gone travelling. But now she was back, the proud owner of a space in the market. And I hadn’t seen her in over a year and – wheeeee! This was a total surprise and the icing on the cake. Anja hosted the first ever group sewing evening that I attended, blogged about here. Lots of lavender and wine was involved on a balmy summer evening – no wonder I fell in love with sewing.
Well, I don’t know what to say. I’m really not happy with this state of affairs.
Actually, I have two things left to say. Come on down to the market! And, um, I’m sick of dropping hints. When are you all gonna move to Walthamstow? Innit.