Thinking About Scarves

The heyday of my wearing scarves was during the 70s and 80s. I bought an Echo scarf from Suzanne's Boutique in Myrtle Square Mall, Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, in the mid-70s and wore it to shreds. Literally.

Let me digress for a moment.

The south was a place of hair curlers (hair rollers, if you will), Saturday evening 'sets' at the beauty shop that would be worn all week, and LOTS of hair spray. We also prided ourselves on long zippers down the backs of our polyester minidresses. They were so easy to step into and one wouldn't get one's hair mussed. That was a big no-no. Looking at some of the cast iron 'dos from the 70s, I was hard pressed to determine how a woman could keep her hair from being mussed during, ahem, shall we say, the joys of marital bliss. I mean, the hair, mounds of it piled on top on one's head, didn't move. That was always a conundrum. If one was unlucky enough to have a pull-on article of clothing, where one had to gasp! Pull it over one's head, that was a problem waiting to be solved.

Enter the silk scarf.

The scarf had to be finely woven silk, not twill; it had to be slick. One would gently drape the scarf over one's head and catch the corners under the chin. Manuvering and blinded by the scarf, one would gently slide the garment over one's head and quickly whisk the scarf away. Voila! Successful dressing without mussing the hair.

Back to my point.

This is how I wore out the Echo scarf. After wearing it around the collars of countless blouses, it was regulated to its greatest cause: that of keeping my hair from getting mussed. It was a lovely scarf, colorful with flowers and paisleys on a creamy background. It was also expensive; the most expensive scarf I ever bought retail. It lived a good life until one day I took a critical look at it and laid it to rest in my vanity trashcan. To this day I use its successor, a nondescript silk scarf purchased from the low rent district of Belks department store back in the day when it had a bargain area. It's held together much better than the lovely Echo scarf, perhaps because of its peasant roots in NOT having a logo. I don't slip too many things over my head anymore, but the scarf is lovingly folded in my top drawer, a place of honor and duty when called upon.

My earliest scarf recollection is a chiffon kerchief tied around my older sister's ponytail. She had dark auburn hair and wore her hair in a ponytail along with rolled up dungarees and white poodle socks that she twisted around her ankles. There was always a brilliant scarf in her hair. She must have had dozens of those filmy chiffon squares. They were small, maybe 12 inches square and were like a breath on a breeze. There were also times when she folded one on the diagonal and tied it around her neck with a sweater set. In my little girl's 5-year-old mind, she looked like a movie star to me.

Years later when Mama and I were cleaning out her attic, we ran across those scarves, mottled and stiff with age. We were in a cleaning frenzy, and they didn't survive our scourge, but they remain in my memories, bright, young, and happy.

He was running fast; running behind.  He glanced at his watch.  1:30 PM.  No wonder he was hungry.  He’d stop at the country store up the road and get a carton of milk and a box of powdered sugar donuts.  He needed to use the phone anyway.

The sun was in his eyes and he reached up and put the visor down.  Absent-mindedly, he slapped his left breast pocket, took out the pack of cigarettes, shook one into his mouth and held it between his front teeth.  He barely slowed down as he drove off the main road, spraying the gravel in front of Cartrette's store.  He parked, grabbed his clipboard, and unfolded himself from the low slung car, throwing the cigarette as he did so.  The older man threw up his hand as the younger one sauntered in. 

“Well, hey.  You back here agin this week?”

“Yeah, gotta look at a wreck off 521.”  He looked at the name on his clipboard.  “Can I use your phone?  You know Wendell Coffey?”

“Course I do," he pointed in the direction of the highway.

"Next right, then the second left.  Dirt road.  Pretty bad ruts after this rain. You gonna have to drive real careful!”

The young man reached for the phone, dialed the number, and spoke briefly.  

The old man looked out the door at the white car parked on the gravel.  “Son, you like them things, don’t you?”

The younger man sat the milk and donuts on the counter, dug his wallet out of the back pocket of his old Levis, and laid a $5.00 bill on the counter.  He smiled real big.  “Yeah.  Nothing better than fixing one up.  Don’t want to put too much in ‘em though."  He laughed, "Can’t make any money if I do.”

The old man kept staring out the door at the white car.  “Ya know, J. D. Winkler's got one ‘a them things.  Had it a long time out under his barn shed.  Well, it belonged to his boy.  He got drafted.  Viet Nam.  He got killed..."  His voice trailed off, remembering.

"One day Wendell just up and drove that car under the tobacco barn shed, locked it up, threw some old tobacco sheets over it, and it’s been there ever’ since.”

“That's just too bad.  What'd it look like?”

“Can't remember too good.  Only saw it a time or two.  Had one 'a them funny looking back winders.”

The younger man's eyes squinted, his excitement rising.  

“Where is it?”

“Right down the road where you going.  Couple a houses down.  Y’ought to stop in there and ask him about it.  Tell 'im to let you see it.  Tell 'im I told you about it.  Don't think he'd mind.”

“Mr. Ben, you just made my day!  You keep that change.”

He picked up his milk and donuts and hurried to his car.  He got in, worn corduroy Levis sliding easily on the red leather seat.  He opened the carton of milk and set it between his legs.  He opened the box of donuts and popped one into his mouth, a trace of white sugar falling onto the front of his shirt.  He looked over at his clip board, started his car and drove onto the highway.   

To be continued...

Happy Birthday To Past Pieces Vintage

Past Pieces turned 3 years old on August 6, 2011.  Only this year have I devoted most of my time to nurturing it and treating it as a full-time pursuit instead of a diversion.  It has evolved since then and probably will continue to evolve as I devote even more time and effort to it; to decide in which direction I really want to go, although that’s pretty well settled.  Today.

When I started Past Pieces, I was a full-time caregiver and wanted something to distract me from that day to day business.  I wanted a venue in which to sell some of the vintage dinnerware and bits and pieces that I’d collected.  It was a way to gently divest myself of my treasures before I was labelled as one of the currently disturbing darlings of the reality television shows…the hoarder.  Having a Goodwill store open locally didn’t help my malady, and soon the garage became a repository for the steel shelving I bought for my “inventory.”  Hence the need for an online shop.

Wonder of wonders, once I opened my Etsy shop, I sold a few things.  There’s nothing headier than making money and I was on my way.  It languished for the first two years, but I sold an item every now and then, but I was too distracted by other things to put my heart and soul into it.  Now, I have the time, and a bit of heart and soul, so we shall see what happens.

As I mentioned, my direction is changing from the original dinnerware and collectibles to what I plan to become a place for vintage clothing and accessories.  Add some vintage lingerie and linens and it’ll be an eclectic brew of various decades.  

Will it keep evolving?  Yes.  Will it keep growing?  Yes.  Will my interests keep changing?  Yes.  Do I know where it all will lead?  No.  

Trash and Treasures? I gots 'em!

The goldenrod is blooming. The pine straw is littering the drive. The black gums are beginning to show their bright red leaves. A baker's dozen of cardinals came to feed at dusk yesterday. Today we have temps in the 70s and that old grump humidity is at 33%. This is weather I can live with. I was in California for two weeks; got back to the land of honey and magnolias late Monday evening. California was a hot and fiery place. Unseasonably hot. Seasonably fiery. A lovely place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there.

I arrived at Ontario airport with one suitcase. I checked two on my return trip. TSA left a kind note in my heavier bag. I don't think they disturbed the duct tape on the older one! Yes, I secured it with duct tape...you just never know when those locks are gonna pop and the Spanx explode all over the airport...plus various newspaper and bubble-wrapped treasures. I had a good time on my thrift circuit around Diamond Bar. Goodwill in Covina, Azusa, and Brea; Community Thrift on Arrow Highway; and one last thrifting trip down the coast as an excuse to get some really good guacamole. And a really nice Fiesta platter!

These are a few of the things I found during my excavations (yes, that's the correct word because I had to dig for a few of these items):

• Shulton Old Spice shaving mug
• Anchor Hocking Hobnail lamp base
• 2 Fire King Lustre punch mugs
• Tupperware pepper mill
• Anchor Hocking Forest Green short vase
• 2 interesting bottles for a bottle fiend that I personally know and love dearly who shall remain nameless!

These aren't the least of the neat things I found. Somewhere along the way I've become obsessed with red tartan plaid. It began with the vintage McGregor Scottish Drizzler windbreaker and has become a major neurosis. I think I'll take two aspirin now and call the shrink in the morning.

Emilo Pucci Formfit Rogers Gown and Robe

I was strolling down the lingerie aisle at a favorite charity store and this fabric leaped out at me. It was a splash of color in a morass of tired flannel and saggy teddies. It was immediately special. I'm a fabric toucher and a label reader, so when I saw the two words "Emilio Pucci," I knew I had a winner. It was a very good day.

In 1959, Emilio Pucci decided to create a lingerie line. His atelier in Rome advised him to develop the line abroad, avoiding the difficulties of a decade earlier in matching available fabrics to the patterns of his first swimwear line. As a result, Pucci came to Chicago giving the lingerie contract to Formfit-Rogers mills. The venture proved to be successful, and Pucci was made vice president in charge of design and merchandising for the company a year later.

This peignoir set is vintage 60s or 70s. It features Pucci's signature bright colors of hot pink, rusty orange, light pink, and pale chartreuse with his initials being a design element. Known for his bold kaleidoscopic prints, this pattern is almost dainty in comparison with rows of loose bows on a lacey border. Pucci designed in Italy and his garments were American made. The borders are pieced on the gown and robe with tiny darts forming the circular border around the neck of the robe. The nylon fabric is thin and fine. The set is a lovely example of quality American made lingerie.