Vintage Copywriting

The Vintage Letter and Rabbit

noreply@blogger.com (Angela Montague) — Tue, 17 Jan 2012 13:01:00 +0000

Breaking with the usual blog format, a personal piece that's still very vintage.

When did you last receive a hand written letter?

With the internet, I can access millions of words in seconds, without paying a penny for the effort taken to create them. I can comment on a blog by a celebrity journalist, and my words are on-screen with theirs. I can update my Facebook or Twitter and around 1000 people across the planet know my daughter has lost a tooth before the blood has dried. I am famous for 15 minutes. But has this flood of words diluted their value? When I go clack-clack-clack and slap ‘send’, have I created anything my great-grandchildren could find? And if they found it, would it give them a piece of me or a piece of fluff?

I have finally investigated a family story.

As a child my mother was often told, ‘if it was not for the snow you would be Welsh!’

In Britain, the winter of 1946-47 was legendary. It lasted from December through to March, with temperatures dropping to –21 degrees centigrade and snow drifts of 23 foot in the Scottish Highlands.

Just before the first flakes fell, my grandparents were in England staying with my grandfather’s family; my grandmother in the final stages of her pregnancy. They planned to return to North Wales for the birth and to set-up home, but the snow started to settle. There was no M62 motorway then, the only route to Wales was through Snake Pass - across the Peak District and full of hairpin bends and steep gradients. They could not risk it. So the baby came in Lincolnshire, and mum was a Yellow Belly not a Taffy. They called her Rita after Rita Hayworth.

Soon after the birth, a parcel arrived from Wales. It was addressed to Rita Bach (in English, Little Rita). Inside was a tiny, soft toy rabbit and a letter.

Hello Rita

This is Tommy Rabbit introducing himself. I am to be your new boy friend, but there is a catch in it. I’m to play with you during the day but I’ve got to sleep with the girls at night – your Aunty Jean and Aunty Grace. I only hope that they will let me give you a good night kiss. By the way it’s your Uncle Bill that sends me and he wants me to give you a big kiss when I arrive – if I can get my breath back after being in that box.

From Uncle Bill to Rita Bach

Don’t you love his graceful, copperplate hand?

Bill was my grandmother’s brother. And yes, that's his photograph at the start of this blog, taken around the time he wrote the letter, when he was 25. I know, he looks older, doesn't he?

Aunty Jean and Aunty Grace were the sisters of my Grandfather; with those names they now sound like old dears, but of course they were pretty young ladies in 1946. Seems they had caught Bill’s eye, anyway.

A receipt from a removal firm confirms the family did get to Wales some five months later. So Bill and Rita Bach finally met when she was a plump, giggling, starting-to-sit-up-on-her-own kind of baby.

Sixy-four years later Tommy Rabbit still sits at my mum’s bedside. He now carries the letter in a little pouch around his neck. Made from sheepskin, Tommy was originally baby pink, but that’s faded away. If you dig your fingers into his fur you can see a little peach, though, and there's still a twinkle in his eye.

Uncle Bill died at 28 from tuberculosis, three years after writing the letter; three years into my mother’s life. Of course she has no memory of being with him, but because of the letter he is a real person to her, not just a few photographs, documents and a gravestone.

He’s someone who sprinkled magic onto one of the few toys she owned.

She often talks about the letter from the rabbit, so last week I asked to have a look at it for myself. And of course it got me thinking. And here’s what I think.

Keep the hand-written letter alive, for those big moments at least. I guarantee it will make someone feel incredibly special. But it will also stop your contribution to history, to your family’s story, becoming a handful of certificates and some dusty gadgets that don't work.

And don’t get me started on digital photos…

If you enjoyed this, you might also like to read In Which I Humiliate my Mother, which tells of her return to school after a 50-year gap.

Invitation to Comment

When did you last write a hand written letter? And when did you last receive one?

Is your writing different in tone when you're handwriting, as opposed to typing?

If you enjoyed this post, may I suggest you click this link to add Vintage Copywriting to your Feed Reader or click here to receive Vintage Copywriting by Email? Or, if you're thinking "what's a feed reader?", click here to read my very helpful article: What's a Feed Reader?

The 1950s Christmas Baubles

noreply@blogger.com (Angela Montague) — Wed, 23 Nov 2011 14:49:00 +0000

These are original 1950s Christmas tree baubles, painted and by hand, over razor thin glass, with lashings of glitter.

It’s a miracle they’ve made it to Christmas 2011.

When I saw them a few years ago at an antique market I snapped them up for myself and my mother, because my Grandmother’s tree was full of these things, but the originals have been lost.

As a child, I vividly remember poking my finger into each gleaming indent as Perry Como sang There’s No Place Like Home for the Holidays. Magically, another finger poked back.

I bought three boxes of vintage baubles from that antique market. On the top of each box someone had kindly written “best”, “2nd best” and “3rd best”

Of course, mum got the best.

Aren’t they fab-u-lous?

Invitation to Comment

Tell me about your special ornaments, the oldest ones on the tree, or the hand made ones you cherish.

What’s your earliest Christmas memory?

If you enjoyed this post, and want to catch the Turquoise Earrings, may I suggest you click this link to add Vintage Copywriting to your Feed Reader or click here to receive Vintage Copywriting by Email? Or, if you're thinking "what's a feed reader?", click here to read my very helpful article: What's a Feed Reader?

(reposted from last year, to be enjoyed this Christmas)

Vintage Gallery #10 "Splash Me"

noreply@blogger.com (Angela Montague) — Fri, 04 Nov 2011 07:01:00 +0000

1940s postcard with the handwritten addition 'Splash Me'

Vintage Gallery #9 The Steampunk Costumes

noreply@blogger.com (Angela Montague) — Fri, 30 Sep 2011 15:48:00 +0000

Incredible Steampunk Costume as seen at The Asylum festival

I must admit I do love a bit of Steampunk.

These phantasmagorical costumes were photographed at The Asylum festival in my hometown of Lincoln (UK) this September. Alas, I did not take the image so do not know the names of the people, but anyone out there does please get in touch. I'd like to give credit where credit is due.

Do you know these people? If so please get in touch!

If you're not sure what Steampunk is, I am tempted to say Google is your friend. But in this case I'll say the library is your friend, specifically the shelves holding these works:

Jules Verne - Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea
H G Wellls - The Time Machine
Mark Twain - A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court
Mervyn Peake - Titus Alone
Philip Pullman - The Dark Materials Trilogy

If you already love the look, you might want to see an original piece of steampunk fashion in my other post The Steampunk Victorian Wedding Dress.

And speaking of giving credit, the photo was taken by the lovely Stacey Clarke!

The Whitby Jet Bangle... or is it?

noreply@blogger.com (Angela Montague) — Tue, 20 Sep 2011 12:43:00 +0000

Whitby Jet Bangle?

Look at this! Isn't it gorgeous? My great grandmother, Elsie May, left this bracelet in her button box, in pieces. My mother inherited the box, picked out the pieces and threaded them on knicker elastic to make the lovely whole you see here. It fits snug on your wrist for an authentic dash of Victorian Gothic Whitby Jetness. Just the thing when you're evoking Mina Harker.

Elsie May and her husband Charlie,
perhaps she's wearing the bangle here

Elsie was a young woman in the 1900s, so I think it's safe to say her bangle is late Victorian. But is it real Whitby Jet? If it is, it would be worth a small fortune.

I've researched a lot, I've found a lot. What follows are the highlights of that research and my take on...

How to Identify Whitby Jet

"Like Whitby Jet But Not" comes in many forms: modern plastic, glass (known as French Jet), bog oak, coal, Bakelite, horn or Vulcanite, from the planet Vulcan. OK I made that last bit up, but the Vulcanite is real, an early plastic that turns a sepia colour with age, it was branded with the rather wonderful name Ebonite and was very popular as fake jet in Victorian times.

Jet, Coal, Bog Oak, Glass, Ebonite, Horn, Bakelite?
It could be any of these

So how can you spot jet and its many imitators?

Is it black?
The clue's in the name: proper jet is jet black, and does not fade with age. If you polish jet it has a soft sheen, not a hard brightness that comes with black glass. My bracelet does look black, and not too shiny, but where it's been worn it also looks a little brown. If it was all brown, I'd be looking at an Ebonite bangle.

Is it heavy or light?
Jet is lightweight. If it's heavy, it's probably glass. Yes, my bracelet is light weight. I'm still in the running for Whitby authenticity.

Is it warm?
Strangely for something black, shiny and associated with vampires, true Whitby jet is quite warm when you touch it. Again, my bracelet seems to be that. Glass would be cold, as would coal.

Does it look hand carved?
Whitby Jet pieces are hand carved from solid lumps; you can't melt jet and pour it into a mould. Any signs of moulding - thin lines at the edge where the two halves of the mould met - mean your vintage find is probably plastic. If it's very perfect, and repeated patterns are identical, again it's likely that this has been made by mould and not carved, so not true jet. My bracelet does not have mould marks but it is suspiciously perfect, and each cross identical. Boo hoo.

Each cross is identical, suggesting a mould, but no mould lines?

Can you see wood grain?
Speaking geologically, jet was once wood, so it is possible to see wood grain in real jet pieces, especially on the back where it's not been carved. With my bracelet, there's a strange surface to the back but it's more like crackle glaze than wood. It seems organic, but not wooden.

At the back, my bangle's surface looks kind of crackle glazed

The Red Hot Needle Test
Not for the faint hearted. If you're going to do this, make sure you pick an area of your piece that's well hidden before you poke. The idea is you take a large darning needle, heat it until it's red hot then touch your wannabe jet in that out-of-the-way place. If it's jet or coal, the puff of smoke you get should smell quite tarry, like coal burning. If it smells like rubber it's likely your piece is Vulcanite (Ebonite). Bog oak smells of burning wood (mmm nice), plastic smells of plastic (yuck) and glass, well that just won't melt from a hot needle. So a scary test, but one that narrows it down to jet or coal. If anything my bracelet smelled of burning hair, yikes, it was made from hair?

The streak test
OK so I did not get the hallowed coal tarr smell that indicates my piece is jet or coal, but if you did you'll want to know the final test to separate these two materials and know if you have jet for sure. Again not something you do on a whim, but if you take some unglazed porcelain (such as the back of a ceramic tile) and scrape a piece of your item across it, it will leave a streak. Whitby jet leaves a dark brown mark, coal a black mark, Vulcanite (Ebonite) a light brown. I did not do this test, I was worried I'd damage the bracelet.

So is it, or isn't it?
I'm pretty sure my piece is not true Whitby Jet. My conclusion is it's horn. I would never have guessed this before I did all this research as I did not realise you can soften horn enough to press it into a mould. But now I know. Here's the description that gives me the smoking gun (with the smoke smelling of hair):

Horn is light and can be easily worked, even moulded if heated in water. When stained it can be passed off as Jet but items are often rough and scaly on the reverse side. Horn does not have the deep glossy black of Jet and when held up to the light the edges are often translucent due to incomplete staining. When scratched the material produces a grey powder. When a hot needle is applied the material will smell of burning hair. Taken from Black as Jet's website, the online store for Whitby jet jewellery.

And the final test, putting "pressed horn bracelet" into Google Images turns up many examples that are incredibly similar to this bracelet, though none exactly the same. A decades old family mystery solved. Now the only question is, Antique Roadshow style, how much is it worth?

Invitation to Comment

How much is it worth? I think that might be a new blog post in itself.

Do you have a piece of possible Whitby Jet, and has this post helped you identify it? Would be thrilled if so.

Next Post: The 1960s Ronson Lady's Cigarette Lighter
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Vintage Gallery #8 The Victorian Carpet Sweeper Advertisement

noreply@blogger.com (Angela Montague) — Wed, 10 Aug 2011 14:00:00 +0000

Never Sweep Carpets with a Broom.

Its strong bristles wear off the nap and throw up dust.

How different with the 'EWBANK' Carpet Sweeper (British Manufacture).

Like gentle rain, it penetrates without damage - the broom, like the raging flood, ravages the surface only. The "Ewbank" is quiet - easily worked to and fro - collects all dust - carpets always look fresh.

SPECIAL FEATURES

Hand made Brush - lasts 10 years. Few working parts are outside case.

SWEEPERS from 11/6 to 15/6

Refuse any sweeper offered in pace of the "Ewbank"

From all dealers, or write

ENTWISLE & KENYON LTD.,
ACCRINGTON
who will send nearest dealer's name.

Note the "Ewbank."

The easy way to support your favourite charity in your blog sidebar

noreply@blogger.com (Angela Montague) — Mon, 18 Jul 2011 10:29:00 +0000

3D image by Ash @ Push Creativity

The fact that companies are asking bloggers to promote stuff tells me space on this blog is valuable. Space on your blog is valuable, extremely so if you've got heaps of readers. So why not use some of that space to big-up charities that mean a lot to you? Here's what I did. It's quick, completely painless and the result looks damn fine in your sidebar.

I toyed with the idea of a little pic of the charity's logo in my sidebar, which I could set up to link through to their website, adding a bit of text to say why this charity mattered. Worthy but dull, I concluded.

Then I remembered the clever, and rather sexy looking, Twitter widgets which bloggers use to have their latest Tweets scrolling their blogs. And I also remembered you did not have to put your own username into these widgets. It could be about someone else.

This is quite a leap for a Twitter user.

So I could put a widget on my blog and set it up with my favourite charity's username. A slick, animated advert for the charity, constantly broadcasting their latest news to my modest readership. Job done. Well, almost.

Of course I had to decide which charities to promote on my blogs. Not an easy task.

On this blog the obvious choice was Oxfam Fashion, with tweets all about their gorgeous vintage fashion collection. You can see their widget in action on the right.

On the blog where I share my iPhone photography; snapshots of my blessed life. It seems only right to promote Amnesty International here, who stand-up for people across the world who are far from blessed.

But in blogging terms I'm small fry. A drop in the ocean. So if you're reading this and you have a blog, especially if you have a blog that get lots of hits each day, what are you waiting for? Get your widget out.

Please come back and tell me what you did, with a comment, or via Twitter. I genuinely want to know about your blog and what charity you gave some space too. Thank you.

I'll just dash off now to polish my halo.

If you don't know how...

Twitter's own widgets are available on the Twitter site. They are compatible with any website (including Blogger) and most social networks, just follow this link: http://twitter.com/about/resources/widgets.

You don't have to be on Twitter yourself to put a widget on your blog for a charity, you just need to find a charity on Twitter you want to support. A good place to start is http://econsultancy.com/uk/blog/3267-list-of-uk-charities-on-twitter.

If you're in Wordpress you probably already know about the in-built Twitter widget which you can set-up with your favourite charity's username.

You can find me on Twitter @Angpang

The 1980s Black and Red Perspex Earrings

noreply@blogger.com (Angela Montague) — Wed, 13 Jul 2011 08:09:00 +0000

Perspex earrings from the mid 1980... where's my white leather jacket?

Purchased from a stall in Covent Garden in 1985, these hand-made earrings distill the look of a decade into sharp, Perspex triangles.

Drizzled with enamel paint on both sides – but not the edges - there’s a slight parallax at work in those glossy squiggles that draws you in. Very close.

Add a white leather jacket for that holy trinity of 80s tones: black, red and white.

DI Alex Drake, eat your heart out.

Iconic Eighties Plastic Earrings, made by hand

Invitation to comment: Are 80s items not old enough to be Vintage yet? Are you enjoying the 80s revival or wincing at the memories and the reminder that it all happened THIRTY YEARS ago?

This is a re-post of my very first entry on this blog from May 2010, when there were no readers to enjoy these lovely earrings. Thought they deserved a second outing.

Next post: The 16th Century Lion Armour

If you enjoyed this post, and want to catch the Lion Armour may I suggest you click this link to add Vintage Copywriting to your Feed Reader or click here to receive Vintage Copywriting by Email? Or, if you're thinking "what's a feed reader?", click here to read my very helpful article: What's a Feed Reader?

Vintage Gallery #7 The Battle of Ypres Brooch

noreply@blogger.com (Angela Montague) — Tue, 05 Apr 2011 11:20:00 +0000

This is a souvenir brooch from World War I. It marks the 3rd battle of Ypres, the Battle of Passchendaele, which took place between July and November 1917. The badge shows the Ieper (Ypres) Coat of Arms. It can be worn as a brooch or cap badge. It's silver plate.

This particular example is a family piece found in a rummage box of odds and sods. I do not know if I have an relative who took part in this battle; could be. Researching my family history is on my very long to-do list.

What I do know is many did take part, and for many of them, it was the last thing they did. No one can agree on how many soldiers died. For the Allies the figure range from 200,000 - 448,614, for the German Empire it ranges from 260,400 - 400,000.

Vintage Gallery #6: The Child's Victorian Needlework Sampler

noreply@blogger.com (Angela Montague) — Mon, 21 Mar 2011 10:32:00 +0000

Sampler created by Eliza Ann Sharpe, aged 11 years, in 1866

Vintage Copywriting now on Flickr

noreply@blogger.com (Angela Montague) — Wed, 16 Mar 2011 16:22:00 +0000

A brief announcement

*cue cut-glass Pathe News voice over*

Followers of the Vintage Copywriting blog will no doubt be delighted to hear that all those dashing snaps and sparkling close-ups have been up-loaded and dusted-down in a shiny new Flickr account.

Fans of all things vintage, antique and retro are invited to 'make friends' with Vintage Copywriting on Flickr and share a virtual Martini or two. Chin-chin!

The Vintage Copywriting Flickr page is just one click away, look!

http://www.flickr.com/people/vintage-copywriting/

And all those dreamy photographs await you behind this helpful little hyper link.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/vintage-copywriting/

Officially, it's an online gallery for my vintage photographs, but I'll also sneak in other quirky photographs of mine that I am especially fond of, like this one.

Snowy the Polar Bear and a Brave Little Girl

And if you want to watch some real Pathe News reels, click here.

Vintage Gallery #5 The 1940s Wedding Dress

noreply@blogger.com (Angela Montague) — Thu, 10 Mar 2011 14:05:00 +0000

Vintage wedding dress (English, 1949)

Worn by Joan Reddington for her marriage to Norman Howlett in 1949.

The wedding took place at St Peter's Church, Hunslet Moor, Leeds, in the West Riding of Yorkshire. This dress was purchased at the very prestigious department store Marshall and Snelgrove, Leeds.

Though the Second World War had been over for four years when Joan and Norman married, clothes were still rationed. No acres of fabric for post-war brides to swoosh down the aisle. Those of you who got married in a 1980s meringue may well think, on reflection, rationing was not a bad thing.

I love that iconic 1940s bodice, so evocative of all those satin gowns on all those Hollywood starlets in all those soft-focus, studio shots. The princess sleeves tapering to a pointed, buttoned cuff complete the old school glamour of this fabulous vintage bridal gown.

Elegant pointed cuff with four fabric buttons

This dress is part of The Leeds Story collection at Leeds City Museum.

Vintage Gallery #4 Kenneth Sanderson's 18th Century Dress

noreply@blogger.com (Angela Montague) — Tue, 01 Mar 2011 13:57:00 +0000

Resplendent in its glass cabinet at the Leeds City Museum, this 18th century gown is in wonderful condition. Just look at that white lace.

Alas, the information panel in the cabinet wanted to tell me about Kenneth Sanderson, not the dress.

You may be thinking of Mr Sanderson as a very dandy dandy who actually fitted into this frock 300 years ago, but that's not so. He was actually a 20th century collector who owned this dress and many other garments from the era. I have nothing else to report other than, swoon...

Vintage Gallery #3 The 18th Century Theatrical Poster

noreply@blogger.com (Angela Montague) — Tue, 22 Feb 2011 14:57:00 +0000

For your education and entertainment, one Georgian Theatrical Poster...

On FRIDAY Evening Auguft 3, 1787, will be prefented A COMEDY

18th Century Theatre Poster, click to enlarge

Can anyone else hear the Blackadder the Third Music?

Notes: This poster is part of the collection at Leeds City Museum, England.

The Joyce Mercer 1930s Children's Illustrations

noreply@blogger.com (Angela Montague) — Thu, 17 Feb 2011 13:53:00 +0000

I feel I should just take a bow and shuffle back stage, letting you look at these illustrations without the distraction of words. But I am a writer, so I'll dilly-dally a little longer.

Commissioned for The Big Christmas Wonder Book (1937) these incredibly stylised children’s illustrations by British artist Joyce Mercer (1896–1965) demand to be stared at, whether you’re a 1930s child sinking into your pillow, or a 21st century vintage lover revelling in the elegance of a lost decade.

Hard black lines give the precision of stained glass, whilst the abundance of perfectly executed curls give the satisfaction of fine calligraphy. I wonder what the artist's handwriting was like?

Look at them from a distance, or upside down, and the balance and poise of the whole composition comes to the fore, letting you enjoy them all over again.

Encapsulating the character of the period and dramatically telling a story, Ms Mercer, I doff my hat to you.

Notes

For those of your who’ve just watched The King’s Speech, The Big Christmas Wonder Book was published in the middle of those events, for that was the Christmas when Edward VII gave up the British throne for Wallis Simpson. Eight pages of illustrations in the book offer a souvenir of the coronation of Edward VII, an event that never happened.

If you’d like to know more about the owner of my family’s copy of The Big Christmas Wonder Book, please click through to this blog post A Hand Written Letter from 1946.

Invitation to Comment

Which is your favourite picture? I think mine is “The Princess was more lovely than words could tell”.

And who are your favourite children’s illustrators? I of course also like Arthur Rackham, "Google Image" his name if you’re not familiar, you're in for a treat.

Next post: The 16th Century Lion Armour

Vintage Gallery #2 The 1940s Powder Compact

noreply@blogger.com (Angela Montague) — Wed, 09 Feb 2011 17:06:00 +0000

1940s powder compact with standard mirror and pop-up magnified mirror

Don't you just love glamour gadgets? In tip-top condition this 1940s powder compact includes a smaller magnified mirror that pops-up alongside its big sister in the most delightful way.

As with all Gallery posts, if you know anything more, or have something similar in your family, do let me know!

Vintage Gallery #1 The 1940s Picnic Hamper

noreply@blogger.com (Angela Montague) — Wed, 02 Feb 2011 16:28:00 +0000

It's a 1940s Picnic Hamper for making a cupper - but that's all I know

A new weekly spot for pure vintage eye candy, because I don't have the details to write a full post!

Perfect for making a fresh brew when you take the jalopy out for a spin, if you know anything more about this 1940s picnic hamper, please let me know with a comment.

Kind of captions itself... but I must add... what sweet detailing

The 1960s Vintage Turquoise Earrings

noreply@blogger.com (Angela Montague) — Fri, 14 Jan 2011 14:52:00 +0000

What I love most about these 1960s clip-ons is that iconic 'S' shape, wrapping your lobe in baroque twirls that reach over and up in a sexy, languid curve. Such a perfect match of metal and flesh gives a feeling of putting on armour. I like that.

And then there's those turquoise cabochons, the essential stone if you're wearing 1960s blue eye shadow. Artfully set among silver beads and rope work, it's only when you get about six inches away that you notice things are a little too crude for that turquoise to be real.

But hey... faux schmaux. If you let someone get as close as six inches, I doubt they'll be staring at your earrings.

Invitation to Comment

Have you a piece of jewellery so bold it dictates your entire outfit? What did you last wear with it?

What's the most daring eye shadow you've worn, and was it a night to remember?

Update: The lovely Betty Herbert kindly sent me this photo (via Twitter) of a similar vintage bracelet she picked up. That bracelet and my earrings would go very well together, Betty.

In fact, that bracelet would look great in a Jiffy bag with my address on.

Next Post: The 1930s Joyce Mercer Children's Illustrations

If you enjoyed this post, and want to catch the Mercer Illustrations, may I suggest you click this link to add Vintage Copywriting to your Feed Reader or click here to receive Vintage Copywriting by Email? Or, if you're thinking "what's a feed reader?", click here to read my very helpful article: What's a Feed Reader?

The 1950s Christmas Baubles

noreply@blogger.com (Angela Montague) — Thu, 23 Dec 2010 10:43:00 +0000

These are original 1950s Christmas tree baubles, painted and by hand, over razor thin glass, with lashings of glitter.

It’s a miracle they’ve made it to Christmas 2010.

When I saw them a few years ago at an antique market I snapped them up for myself and my mother, because my Grandmother’s tree was full of these things, but the originals have been lost.

As a child, I vividly remember poking my finger into each gleaming indent as Perry Como sang There’s No Place Like Home for the Holidays. Magically, another finger poked back.

I bought three boxes of vintage baubles from that antique market. On the top of each box someone had kindly written “best”, “2nd best” and “3rd best”

Of course, mum got the best.

Aren’t they fab-u-lous?

Invitation to Comment

Tell me about your special ornaments, the oldest ones on the tree, or the hand made ones you cherish.

What’s your earliest Christmas memory?

Next Post: The 1960s Turquoise Earrings

If you enjoyed this post, and want to catch the Turquoise Earrings, may I suggest you click this link to add Vintage Copywriting to your Feed Reader or click here to receive Vintage Copywriting by Email? Or, if you're thinking "what's a feed reader?", click here to read my very helpful article: What's a Feed Reader?

The Georgian 18th Century Shoes

noreply@blogger.com (Angela Montague) — Fri, 17 Dec 2010 17:26:00 +0000

Georgian Shoe, English heel, circa 1720

Three hundred years is a long time, especially for a delicate creature like this.

But take my hand and we’ll find the ghost within: a pair of glorious Georgian shoes that must have thrilled and delighted on their first night out.

It's 1720. The House of Hanover has only just taken to the English throne. Ballrooms are full of blazing candellabras, and shoes like these, designed to blaze with them.

All this would be silver and sparkle three hundred years ago

Even inch you can see was once opulent. That cloth was silver, that lace was silver and brightest of all that silver buckle. With polished textured surface and cut out diamonds it could turn soft candlelight into glittering brilliance.

Curved and high, the heels indicate her elevated position in society, a position she has 70 years to enjoy before the The French Revolution will make such a high and mighty shoe dangerously out of style.

Pointed toes, not square, reveal the owner could sense a trend. Square toes would soon be strictly for the men.

In her a silk manua gown, what did she look like?

And is it better to know, or to imagine?

Credits

These shoes are the oldest in York Castle Museum's costume and textiles collection.

Intivation to Comment

Do you own an vintage shoe? Tell me about it!

If you could time travel back to one night in history - what night would it be, and where would it be?

Next Post: The 1950s Glass Christmas Baubles

If you enjoyed this post, and want to catch the Christmas Baubles, may I suggest you click this link to add Vintage Copywriting to your Feed Reader or click here to receive Vintage Copywriting by Email? Or, if you're thinking "what's a feed reader?", click here to read my very helpful article: What's a Feed Reader?

My Great Grandmother's Pickled Onion Recipe

noreply@blogger.com (Angela Montague) — Fri, 12 Nov 2010 17:15:00 +0000

To the world she was Katherine Williams. To the Welsh mountain village where she lived, she was Mrs Williams a Pobty (that is, Mrs Williams of the Bake House; her home was once the village bakery). To my mum she was Nanan.

She was my great grandmother.

For this post I will share with you her recipe for pickled onions - a vintage recipe that dates back to the 1930s and has not been written down before. It’s a tradition in my family to make these onions in November, just in time for Christmas. So get your skates on.

It's delightfully basic. It produces onions of intense flavour with a loud crunch. They’ll be ready in six weeks, and can be enjoyed for the next 12 months.

A word of warning. When you are making them, your kitchen, and possibly most of your house, will make your eyes water.

You will need

1 - Glass storage jars, the Kilner type are best. My family tends to use 2 litre ones. They should be clean and sterilised.

2 - A bag of "Onions for Pickling" – not shallots, do you hear? Onions should be evenly sized, with the largest no bigger than a golf ball.

3 - Standard malt vinegar (enough to fill your jars, of course). Don’t get vinegar with any poncey spices added.

4 – Table salt and white sugar.

Elizabeth Terrace in Glasinfryn where Nanan lived. This was sketched by my father (The English Boy) from Nanan's front door. The house my mother grew up in is the last on the right. This sketch was done in 1963 when my dad was 18

What to do

1 - Remove the skin from the onions and top and tail them.

2 - Place your onions in your jars till they reach the top (they do shrink a little when pickled).

3 - Add a tablespoon of salt per litre and let it cascade over the onions. Then pour water over the top, to wash the salt through. Seal the lid and tip the jar upside down to get a good briney mix.

5 - Leave for 24 hours.

6 - Put an open hand over the jar and drain out the salt water. Then put the jar under the tap and flood with clean water to rinse the onions whilst they're in the jar (again using an open hand to stop them bobbing out).

7 - Pour the vinegar into the jars until about ¾ full. What you are doing here is seeing how much vinegar you need: that vinegar’s not stopping in the jar, it’s going into a saucepan. So do that next.

8 – The smelly bit. Put the pan of vinegar on full heat and add 1 tablespoon of sugar per litre. Stir occasionally to make sure the sugar has disappeared. When the vinegar has boiled remove from heat and leave to cool, or put the pan in a sink of cold water to rapid cool.

9 – When vinegar is cool, pour it into the jars up to the ¾ level.

10 – Then use cooled boiled water to top-up the remaining ¼ of the jar.

Leave for six weeks and give them a bite! They should be crisp and strong.

They'll be good for the next 12 months too. Hope you enjoy them as much as my family has over the years.

Invitation to Comment

Do please tell me if you have any family recipes; are they still made?

If you could have one day back, to spend with a lost Grandparent, how would you spend it?

Next Post: The 18th Century Brocade Shoe

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The Dorothy Ann Floral China Jewellery

noreply@blogger.com (Angela Montague) — Thu, 21 Oct 2010 13:03:00 +0000

Dorothy Ann Bone China Brooch

Should it be the classic red rose? I don't think so. Petals with buttermilk highs and saffron lows are a much smarter buy. You can don jade green, damson purple, crimson red, royal blue or the soft caramels of Autumn’s essential camel coat: this golden beauty will flourish on every lapel.

The details on the back? Dorothy Ann. China. Made in England.

Dorothy Ann | CHINA | MADE IN ENGLAND

In 1954, the Dorothy Ann pottery was listed in Stoke. After that I believe the name became part of Crown Devon. Was Dorothy a real person? A 50s glamour puss? Dot with a penchant for polka dot? Or is this a brand name created by a copywriter (damn those copywriters)? Google is not my friend on this point.

However, I do know that this is the most quintessentially vintage piece I own. Oh yes, it’s mine. Found in a charity shop a few weeks ago for £1 (in international currency: less than a Starbucks espresso). It emerged from a glass cabinet with its petals full of dust and neglect. Just a little gentle attention with a soft brush and soapy water brought those delicate yellows and shiny glaze back from history. Dot, you’d be proud.

Invitation to Comment

I lay down the gauntlet to all you vintage gals: find another piece of floral china jewellery, at £1 or less, and come back and tell me all about it.

What about your family pieces, what heirlooms do you treasure?

You can view more floral china jewellery here, here and here in my Vintage Copywriting Gallery.

Lovely comment emailed by fellow copywriter Lorraine Thompson

(Blogger would not let her comment through!)

Thanks for another wonderful post.

Wow! Your rose brooch is a find. I LOVE that it's yellow, rather than a more ubiquitous red.

I have several old vases embellished with similar roses. I must say, however, mine are worse for wear. The delicate china flowers chips so easily.

Your brooch's perfect condition speaks to its cherished status over the years, making it all the more precious today.

I'm lucky to own oodles of costume jewelry collected from 1920 onward by my magpie grandmother. Among my favorites pieces, however, are two carved and painted bird pins.

They are made of the simplest materials: wood and safety pins, but their delicate craftsmanship makes them exquisite.

And they come with a sad story: They were made during World War II by my grandfather's business associates, Japanese businessmen incarcerated in California during the War. (A shameful footnote to our country's history)

All the best,

Lorraine

Next Post: Nanan's 1930s Picked Onion Recipe - just in time for Christmas

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The 1920s Golden Gallopers

noreply@blogger.com (Angela Montague) — Mon, 11 Oct 2010 11:36:00 +0000

This is one hell of a wedding present.

No, not the fairground horse, the whole damn ride.

When Miss Patricia Manning became Mrs Patricia Shufflebottom in 1958, she was given these Golden Gallopers as a wedding present. An impulse buy from a wealthy wedding guest? No. A gift from her family, the Manning family, fairground royalty through and through.

Are there wedding photos of Patricia riding side-saddle in her 1950s bridal gown? Giddy smile, confetti tumbling from her veil to flutter past those confetti coloured horses?

I’d like to think so.

Manufactured in 1922 by the most splendiferous Savages of King’s Lynn, these gallopers have enchanted crowds at the funfairs of Billy Smart and, of course, Billy Manning.

Here they are at Southsea in 1959 (Photo Credit www.nfa.dept.shef.ac.uk)

A rare three-abreast set with carved wooden horses, each is double-seated for cuddling-up to little ones or your latest squeeze. The paintwork is pristine; golden swifts with paint box brights showcasing all their tack. Saddles and bridles are different on each horse, as are the names at their necks. Sonia, Brian, Shirley, Chris… named after real people? No doubt.

As a copywriter, I am often asked to name things. If I could name a herd of fairground horses I do believe I would die happy.

So that's my 200 words done (did you know I impose 200 word limit on each Vintage Copywriting post?). But I am adding the words of someone else. Here's an extract from Jump on, Jump on, by Brian Steptoe, which talks about these very Gallopers when they were with their first owner, Yorkshire showman Chris Johnson. They travelled with him from 1922 to 1941.

The Gallopers Come Back

The country was full of gallopers before the last war. There were thousands of sets. The best set I ever saw were Chris Johnson's at Wakefield. It was a nice Savage three-abreast set. The platforms were painted white - white varnished paint. You couldn't see a foot mark on them. The centre and backs of the rounding boards were all white, with the fronts picked out in gold leaf lettering and pastel shades. All the swifts were white, lined with pale blue and pale pink. Beautiful. I've watched them take about an hour every night to pack it up. There were five covers on the organ - I counted them. The horses all had their hats and coats, tailor -made They'd move the machine round slowly; put three sets of covers for the horses on the platform and then Johnson's sons would come off their sidestuff and cover them up. They'd put the horses' coats on and tie them up and put their caps on. All the screens round the middle were covered with white dust sheets. Then the rods would be Vaselined down ,the outside covers put on. Next morning at five o'clock they'd be up, taking all those covers off again, polishing the horses and washing down the platforms and steps. Then they'd cover up again until opening time. When they were building up they wouldn't let any of the men go up top with their boots on. They had to take them off and work in stockinged feet.

Invitation to Comment

Come on, name some horses for me. Here’s what I’ve got so far:

Sherbert, Crimson, Nuzzler, Damask, Zuzu, Piccolo, Harlequin, Babushka, Captain, Pistol, Marzipan, Pickle, Coco, Fortune, Firenze, Thunderclap, Glitter and (of course) Shufflebottom.

And do tell me, what’s your strongest fairground memory?

Next Post: The Floral Bone China Jewellery

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The Golden Gallopers can be found Folly Farm’s vintage fun fair, near Tenby, Pembrokeshire, Wales. This funfair has many old rides, lovingly maintained and in full working order, ready for a vintage geek like you to hop on. More images and details can be found on with this excellent collection of words and pictures at Ridemad.Com.

The Steampunk Victorian Wedding Dress

noreply@blogger.com (Angela Montague) — Fri, 20 Aug 2010 11:55:00 +0000

satin Victorian wedding dress from 1878

When Emily Kitchin married Mr Arthur Turner Waite in September 1878, she wore this dress. They took their vows at St Mary’s Church, Scarborough. The dress is cream satin; a very expensive bridal gown.

The fitted bodice has no buttons at the back. There are long princess seams, a tailoring technique just introduced by Charles Frederick Worth.

And that's all I know.

The rest of this post? Guesswork.

It must fasten at the front, like a coat. And it's not one dress, but two.

Most of what you see is the satin over-dress, but those ruffles and pleats are another garment entirely, an under-dress.

Two layers gloriously entwined in a notched hem. Like a cog wheel, this is the detail to note: are we looking at a Victorian bridal gown here, or a steampunk costume?

Repeated on every edge and in miniature at the cuffs, these notches reveal the accordion pleats and lacy cuffs beneath. It’s not clear if the cream-over-coffee tones are by design, or the effect of time. Either way, I love it.

A September wedding. A dress that’s a little like a coat. Of course.

And don't you wish you could have taken a pew? To watch that over-dress separating to reveal those ruffles beneath, to see that gossamer veil slide over the dark flagstones…

Invitation to Comment

So, that notched hem, have you seen the like anywhere else (apart from Erryl Flinn's Robin Hood costume)?

And, if you're a wiz at ancestry research, what more can you discover about Emily and Arthur? Did they always live in Scarborough? Did they have any children?

Update 19/10/10: Museum curator @zooarchaeologis has unearthed this very similar dress, also dated 1878. Part of a private collection, it's modelled here in the 1950s by ballerina Marjorie Tailchief. This time it's not a notched hem that defines the design, but a thick cord lacing over a satin panel. How wondeful to be sent this new image; an excellent addition to the blog. Thank you.

The Castle Museum

Notes: St Mary’s Church is the final resting place of Anne Bronte, in her grave some 30 years when Emily and Arthur tied the knot in 1878. This dress was photographed at the Cradle to the Grave exhibition at The Castle Museum, York, England, a place of vintage wonders in a city of historical delights. Highly recommended. I am indebted to my mother, a dressmaker of great skill, for helping analyse the structure of this gown from these images alone; she was not with me at the museum. You are welcome to read more about her recent achievements in this post in my personal blog: In which I Humiliate my Mother.

Next Post: The 1920s Gallopers
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The Coloured Glass Tram Shelter Adverts

noreply@blogger.com (Angela Montague) — Mon, 16 Aug 2010 06:10:00 +0000

Ruby red, sapphire blue, onyx black; the jewelled tones of these early 20th century glass adverts caught my eye from at least 20 paces. But then I stood close and read the copy. Wonderful stuff.

Have a read yourself, but don't forget to do so in a cut-glass English accent.

Salvaged from trams and tram shelters in the North East of England, these adverts are my most literal 'vintage copywriting' post so far.

click for enlarged view

ALWAYS GOOD.

You can't top that, can you? And the vibrant blue glass. Sigh.

click for enlarged view

THIS FACT all MOTHERS OUGHT TO KNOW
BOLSOVER'S FOOD makes BABIES GROW

St Anne's Road, Rotherham.

Is J T Bolsover still there now?


click for enlarged view

J NEVILLE
The FIRST CLASS Outfitter
FOR BOOTS, DRAPERY, HOSIERY ETC

I wonder how much these cost to make? And looks like they were on display for many years.

click for enlarged view

FOR WANT OF REST YOUR CHILD MIGHT DIE
SO GET NURSE WALKER'S "HUSH-A-BY"

Blimey.

Invitation to Comment

I think these adverts are beautiful. They're social history and art. I would have them in my home. Would you?

And how about that guilt trip from Nurse Walker?

Notes: These glass adverts were photographed at Crich Tramway Village, Derbyshire, England, "a lovingly restored period village that is also home to the National Tramway Museum"

A great day out for the Vintage Geeks among you, follow this link to read Crich Tramway's Blog.This is a genuine recommendation, I don't do sponsored blogs.

Next Post: Emily Kitchin's Satin Wedding Dress (1878)

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