OVERDUE: The Made in the Shade Craft Library at BUST

Posted on December 29, 2011 by Carrie

If this blog post were a library book, I’d be liable to pay some hefty long overdue fines!

Last month, as part of a pact my business partner & pal, Clare Nicolson made to ‘get out and about more’, we hosted a pop-up library event feature at one of London’s biggest indie shopping shindigs – The BUST Craftacular.

The project unravelled, just as some of the best ones often do, kind of by accident. A fleeting idea developed into a Proper Idea and with a little help from our crafty pals in London Town, the library was soon fully stocked with the best craft titles of 2011 AND we managed to recruit a gaggle of amazing authors to take part.

Clare is the design whizz of our little Made in the Shade duo and boy, oh boy, did she bring my geekfest library dreams to life! Never short of a great idea, Clare’s also pretty amazing when it comes to interpreting my own gobbledigook visions and madcap design notions. Everything from our library cards (actually discount cards for our online shop) to our book plate receipts (date stamped – of course!) and pretty book bags, librarian badges, banners and signage turned out just as I’d hoped.

To have Jazz Domino Holly, Tatty Devine, The Craftivist Collective and Cicada Books all involved in our little library was quite something. I was proud to place my copies of The Busy Girl’s Guide To Sewing alongside some of the best craft titles of 2011. Pretty neat, y’know, if I may say so myself.

I shall, for the moment, spare you the usual chat about the Megabus journey – but if you happened upon my Carrie Not The Kind Of Girl You’d Marry Facebook page during the trip, you’ll have been treated to some mental commentary from a sleep deprived eejit about some mental, equally sleep deprived eejit co-passengers.

I thought you might like to see some of the brilliant photographs Beardy took on the day…

London: A Whirlwind Trip

Posted on November 5, 2011 by Carrie

A whirlwind blog about a whirlwind trip…

The early morning Megabus man is not rude to us and we do not witness any racism. We are pleased. Beardy watches movies on his phone. I listen to music in my giant green headphones. I thoroughly enjoy my updated playlist and am rather smug with myself for having made it. I note The Proclaimers tracks as particular high points.

We arrive in London in good time. We glug pints of ice cold Coca-Cola in our new favourite dive bar. We don’t go to The Shakespeare any more. We’re all about The Traveller’s Inn now. We are fickle.

We negotiate our way to Fish Island, the underground and overground train journeys made easier by the fact we were carrying unusually tiny luggage. We stand uncomfortably close to fellow passengers and I feel I really ought to at least say hello to the woman with whom I am standing thigh to thigh.

Leona’s place has a new door. We drink a glass of wine with our hostess before heading out to The Hackney Pearl for dinner. We all eat pizza. I think my pizza was the best pizza I’ve ever had. It had pumpkin on it. I love pumpkin.

I controversially announce that I hate the queen. Beardy & I reminisce about Adventure Mountain* as we settle down to sleep on the inflatable mattress.

With sleepyheads, we eat breakfast at Stour Space. I order my usual big veggie plate but am disappointed my mushrooms are not replaced with something else and am raging that Leona & I’s little adlib about how thrilled I was to get an avocado last time is ignored. ‘Twas a fine performance nonetheless.

Beardy and I head to Brick Lane in search of Blitz – the vintage department store I’d heard about. We find it. We love it. We are relieved that it’s not full of dicks and we love that the man behind the counter is friendly and lovely. We coo over expensive furniture and I nearly buy a new winter coat but then don’t**. We enjoy cake in a cafe clearly intended to be patronised by young people. I get excited by a Bros poster they have on the wall. I wish I was a young person. Kind of.

We get soaked in the rain. My blue cagoule is wet through. We dry off in a super-cool hang out in Bethnal Green. Leona comes to meet us and we weave in and out of galleries on Vyner Street for a bit. I step in a puddle and proceed to make a disgusting squelching noise as I walk. Before hopping on the bus, we pop (squelch) into The Last Tuesday Society and I get excited about taxidermy and sauciness. We have no time to take up the offer of gin in teacups.

We reach Rough Trade East for the State of Craft party and are thrilled to meet up with some pals. I chat to State of Craft publisher, Ziggy, and tell her how much I love the book. I do love the book. I try to congratulate our gal Victoria on editing a fabulous DIY volume, but she’s quite obviously up to high dough so I curtail my conversation to a brief, “Well done”. I think Victoria is relieved that I stop talking to her . Ziggy gives a warm, lovely and engaging speech and I tear up when she thanks Beardy for his massive contribution to the book. We head off in search of food.

We don’t eat. Instead, we get piddly at The Pride of Spitalfields round the corner.

We arrive home having enjoyed a quick pitstop in the bagel shop***. Somehow we have bottles of Desperados but I don’t really remember getting those. Leona trumps my ‘Facebook disco’ by initiating a real-life You Tube disco in her front room. We dance and sing in the dark. The B52s, Technotronic, The Soup Dragons, Dee-Lite, The Rebel MC, Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Price – they all get our Fish Island disco treatment.

We dance ourselves to sleep.

Beardy & I repack our Fred Perry bags and head outside. We agree we ought to do something touristy. We go to the V&A. I am excited to visit the Postmodernism exhibition. I am devastated when the man tells me I need to pay £12.50 to go inside. I don’t have £12.50. Beardy offers to pay half of my ticket so that I can go in but tell him I wouldn’t enjoy it if he wasn’t with me anyway. We go to the hall next door and look at an exhibit of postmodern photography instead. That cheers us up.

We drag ourselves through South Kensington and on through Knightsbridge. We feel sorry for Harvey Nichols since their winter window display is nowhere near as cool as Harrods’. Feeling a little bit light-headed, we pop into what appears to be a crazily fancy patesserie for a quick sugar hit. That’s a story all of its own. We head back to The Traveller’s Inn and eat onion rings until it’s time to get on the bus.

Beardy is really pleased when the Megabus man announces that all the passengers bound for Manchester are being ferried off on a seperate bus from ours. Beardy has an irrational hatred of Manchester and the ‘crazy bastards’ that go there (?).

I eat Hula-Hoops and Fruit Pastilles until my mouth is cut and sore. I watch tv on my phone for the first time and Beardy laughs aloud as he reads his Stewart Lee book. Beardy is enraged by the man with terrible body odour and the girl who’s chewing gum too loudly. I fall asleep with my mouth open and am embarassed.

Our taxi driver is too loud.

Smokey Cat is pleased to see us. We can tell because she knocks her scratching post over, pukes on the floor and then rubs her head off our luggage. I add State of Craft to our special book shelf above the couch then we slide into our pyjamas. I regret not having a shower before bed. I am covered in London slime and Megabus stink. Smokey Cat purrs us to sleep.

*Adventure Mountain: When Beardy and I started dating, he slept on a blow-up bed. Over time, the grooves in the mattress started to ‘ping’ and eventually, the blow up bed was no longer rectangular or even vaguely mattress-like but was instead, just a big baggy ball of air.

** I nearly bought a pastel blue Eskimo coat. It has a big pointy hood with real fur stitched round the edge, a big chunky plastic zip with a polar bear charm hanging from the end and beautiful embroidered motifs along the bottom hem. I decided against it on account of it’s grubbiness :(

***The bagel shop only offered two filling options – salami and smoked salmon. I like neither, but Beardy likes both. When he asked for smoked salmon AND salami on his bagel, he blew the bagel man’s mind!

Judy’s Affordable Vintage Fair: London Style

Posted on September 17, 2011 by Carrie

I’ve been back home in Glasgow for 4 days. In that time I’ve been drunk twice, have bawled and cried at a wedding, eaten the best chicken balmoral ever and scalded my ass. More about that later. First thing’s first. What with all my time in London being taken up with enjoying fun times, my blogging fizzled out in the final days as I tried to cram in as much as I could before heading home again. So. Here’s the first of my little catch up posts.

Disclaimer: This blog post was penned while Carrie Not The Kind of Girl You’d Marry was (i) suffering a post-wedding hangover and (ii) was nursing a burned ass following a nasty incident with a burst hot water bottle. Go easy…

Rewind to Saturday 10th September. Although the ol’ gommy body was on it’s last legs following my traumatic totter along the Thames, I took the long tube line round in a circle from The Southbank to Bethnal Green – the plan being that I could have wee soft seat and a little rest before attempting to do a circuit of Judy’s Affordable Vintage Fair. The plan just about worked – though to be quite honest, due to wobbly legs and an out of shape spine, it was, admittedly a prrrrrretty quick circuit :/

Setting up home for the day at the fabulous York Hall, Judy’s vintage shopping shindig seemed to put every last nook and crannie of the space to great use. I’ve visited York Hall a few times for the BUST Craftacular and absolutely adore the venue. On this particular day though, the usual array of BUST-style indie craft delights were replaced by hoards and hoards of clothing, homewares, accessories, ephemera and vintage craft & sewing supplies.

I’ve been to one of Judy’s Affordable Vintage Fairs before (in Glasgow). I’m not sure if it was down to my not being able to cope with the frenzied crowds (I’m not very good at crowds) or maybe it was because I felt a little bit disorientated in the semi-dark venue (I’m not very good at darkness), but somehow, my vintage goat was not tickled. There is, of course, every chance I was just being a grumpy Gertie. The endless gaggles of excitable teenage girls scooping up armfuls of secondhand delights would certainly testify that the event was bonzer. For this 30-something gal though, I found the clothing offer in Glasgow to be pretty 80s heavy, and I suppose that’s not really my thing. Though, that said, what I’d give for my stupid sensitive skin to allow me to don an enormous, embellished angora sweater or a big rainbow coloured mohair number… Eeesh… I guess that’s the beauty (and the bugbear) of vintage and secondhand clothing shopping though, huh? There surely is something for everyone, but depending on the luck bestowed upon you by the goddesses of thrift and the mothers of secondhand – some days you’ll find gems galore and on others, the vintage vibes just aren’t working with you!

Anyway, all that said, Judy’s London Town set up made my eyes pop and my heart skipped a little beat or two as I limped around the lanes of traders. Overwhelmed by the sheer volume of vintage clothing though, I kind of gave up on that aspect of the event and instead oohed and aaahed at other, non-wearable things instead…

It ain’t no secret that I have a button fetish. That little sewing supplies obsession I’ve developed over the years? That shows no sign of waning either. Had I had proper pocket money (and the means to ferry a decent haul home), then I’d have gone wild in the aisles! As it was though, I was happy just flipping through card after card of beautiful – not to mention really well priced – buttons, sewing notions and all sorts of crafty ephemera.

I’m not sure why, but vintage magazines seem to be weirdly rare in Glasgow. The last batch I managed to pick up came from a monthly antique fair, but there wasn’t too much choice and I just happened to be lucky in that titles I was interested in were the titles on display. See! Good vintage vibes. However… At Judy’s there were bundles of magazines, TABLES full of magazines – even the odd additional rack dotted around. Had I been able to bend properly (by this time I must have looked to the sellers and to my fellow vintage shoppers a bit like Quasi Modo), then I’d have spent much more time leafing through the masses and masses of vintage fashion booklets, women’s lifestyle mags and gentlemen’s journals!

Other favourite things included:

1. Upcycled cushion covers made from 50s Hawaiian flags/scarves

2. Loads and LOADS of beautiful bags. I’m still dreaming of the yellow knitting bag…

3. The stall specialising in vintage barware. This fella had it all – including several unusual Babycham pieces. Eep!

4. The £1 stall. I seriously wish I’d just bought the weird plastic doll I found. And – and this will sound a bit weird, but to those familiar with my liking for scabby old dolls (literal – not a euphemism), I wish I’d taken home a handful of miniature plastic babies (literal – not a euphemism).

5. A lady complimenting me on my Lucie Sheridan ‘Cock’ bag :)

Judy hosted her freshers’ edition of the Affordable Vintage Fair in Glasgow last week and her vintage roadshow is set to hit my home town again in October. I’m there!

You can find out more about Judy’s Affordable Vintage Fair here and you can keep up to date with event info and vintage chitter chatter on Facebook and on Twitter.

Oh – and P.S The following day, Judy was hosting The Affordable Vintage Furniture Fair. I resisted the urge to pop along – mainly since I have yet to secure a London flat to put furniture in. But as soon as I do, you can bet your boots I’ll be hot footing it to Bethnal Green!

On The Trail of Craft at The Thames Festival

Posted on September 12, 2011 by Carrie

Part of the reason I picked this particular weekend to take a solo trip to London was that, timed correctly, I’d be able to pop along to The Thames Festival and follow the all-new Craft Trail feature of the weekend-long London city shindig. Featuring creative collectives Of Cabbages & Kings, Crafty Fox, Craft Guerilla and We Make London, I was keen to follow the trail and pick up some new crafty pals en route. Not only that, but festival organisers and Craft Trail co-ordinators Barny & Sanna are a pair o’ good eggs and I wanted show support for their new festival venture. Having discussed the underlying ethos of the Craft Trail with Barny at length in my Made in the Shade guise, it’s pretty clear he’s super passionate about supporting budding creative businesses. In fact, the original plan for this weekend was for Made in the Shade to come to London and for us to set up a marquee extravaganza as part of the Craft Trail. Sadly, the piggy bank and stupid logistical nightmares put an end to those plans – but I was looking forward to seeing what treats Sanna and her merry band of crafty collectives had in store!

Glitch number one started at the tube station. Having established that I needed to be get to London Bridge, I was informed that the line on which I’d intended to travel was closed. Instead, I plumped to get to Waterloo and decided that a little wander along the Southbank might be the perfect way to spend a Saturday alone in London Town. I always feel happy inside when I see the Royal Festival Hall. I was pleased to discover that despite the glitzy development of the area since my days as a teenage southbanker, the old blue signage still adorns the side of the building proudly.

I’d fully expected the festival to attract a heap of people, naturally, but I wasn’t quite prepared for the dense, dense, dense crowds of tottering, shuffling visitors and tourists. There was nothing much else I could but to shuffle along with them. I broke from the herd a moment to visit the information tent and pick up my Craft Trail map. Glitch number two being that the girl manning the stand didn’t have any. When I asked if she could at least point me in the direction of the start of the trail, she looked at me blankly, handed me the festival brochure and told me I’d find details of all event features in there. I thanked her (though not very enthusiastically, I must admit) and squished myself on the end of a riverside bench beside some old people. Flicking through the guide, a few attractions caught my eye – a funny cinema project, a photography masterclass and an old time music & dance tent - but I was at a loss to find any info about my beloved Craft Trail. Working on the basis that if I just headed in the right direction, I’d surely happen upon it all in good time, I took up my place in the herd and set off. Surely the trailing was part of the fun!

After a short (distance) but long (time) walk, I happened upon this art installation. I liked it a lot. It made me smile. Sadly, this picture doesn’t really do it justice. I’d love to see it at night time. I’ll no doubt have mentioned here before that I suffer from what’s known as ‘gommy body’. If you are unfamiliar with ‘gommy body, consult any good medical book and it’ll be right there. Gommy. Body. Under ‘G’. The gomminess manifests itself in a number of ways – mainly by rendering the lower half of my body pretty useless. Not to mention painful. Shakira is so, so right. The hips really don’t lie – and when mine tell me that I need to stop walking or I’ll collapse in a heap/get stuck gripping on to a railing like a rubber legged drunk, they’re usually bang on the money. Under normal circumstances, I try my best to listen to my honest, trustworthy hips. However, when I’m half way along the Thames on the hunt for a bunch of people I really want to see and whom I’ve promised I’ll visit, I foolishly decided to persevere with the shuffling.

As I neared what appeared to be the end of the main festival route, I was pretty close to weeping. The cherry flavoured cigarettes I’d bought as a treat turned out to be horrible. The churros from the Spanish food stall were too expensive for my purse and my feet felt like they might be about to burst into flames. All this, and I still hadn’t found any evidence of the Craft Trail or spotted any of the friendly faces I’d come to smile at. I considered handing myself in to the Lost Children gazebo. I hoped that some kind eyed grown-up might liked the look of me and take me home (via an osteopathy clinic and/or a foot spa).

But! But! Low and behold… Having followed the crowd like the little London lamb I am, off the riverbank and all round the houses, up stairs and down stairs and through funny little windy paths, I rejoined the riverside hubbub and soon came across THIS! Huzzah!

After I’d popped my head into the Crafty Fox origami workshop, I walked round the the rear of the tent. I found this talented lady, Rebekah McMullan, selling her wares under a tree. Rebekah works under the ‘Forgotten Stitches’ moniker and I was truly excited to have found her beautiful textile designs. I think for one reason and another, I’ve become a little weary of the craft world – a little uninspired, maybe. However, my heart took little leaps as I browsed Rebekah’s stall. I adored her little cheery cherry wearables, her beautiful felt necklaces and – these guys! If I have my way, these will be appearing at a Maisonette near you sometime soon :) For now though, you can find Forgotten Stitches online here.

This dame took pride of place on the Forgotten Stitches stall. Not one to get excited by handcrafted dolls as a rule, for this vintage styled gal, I made an exception. Look at her victory rolls! And her pretty green shoes!

I browsed a handful of stalls close to Rebekah’s and felt from their general ‘vibe’ that they must be part of the Craft Trail though couldn’t find a proper ‘abse for Crafty Fox and couldn’t figure out where I ought to go to pick up my ‘I’ve been here’ token. From the choice of indie sellers I did find, I picked up a little selection of business cards. Alongside Forgotten Stitches, my favourites included artist Adam Hemuss, illustrator Clare Shields and some of the designer makers working under the ‘Our Workshop’ umbrella. Confident I was finally on the right path, I continued along the Thames, following the crowd and browsing stalls and food tents as I went. However, when I reached London Bridge, having still not joined up my Craft Trail route, I gave up and admitted defeat. I took me almost 2 hours to shuffle from one end of the riverbank to the other, and unable to ignore what my hips were telling me (or, indeed, walk any more), I crossed the bridge and hobbled toward the nearest underground station.

My sincerest apologies to Sanna and pals for not making it along (or rather, making it along far enough, evidently) to say hallo. I’m sure the Craft Trail was big hit and I hope y’all had a fabulous time (and I hope you made a million!).

Now, Wasn’t THAT A Book Party?!

Posted on September 9, 2011 by Carrie

Day 1 of my London adventure was pretty manic. No sooner had I been reunited with Beardy at Euston Station, but we were hot footing it out east to Dalston Lane. As Beardy veered left off the pavement and skipped up some stairs to the entrance of a beautiful old school building (complete with pretty blue paintwork and gorgeous polished tiling), I wondered if maybe he was playing some cruel trick. He put the key in the lock of the big, heavy double door and guided me inside the foyer. With shiny wooden floors in the echoey hallways and the original blackboards still hanging on the walls, the My Fair Lady syndrome from the train experience returned – this time rendering me speechless and wide eyed like one of those weird meercat toys you see in tat shops. I hate that those things are both kinda cute and kinda shit all at the same time – but that is neither here nor there. I suppose some of the very best things are – cute AND shit, I mean. Not neither here nor there. That would be crazy.

We made our way up through the building until we reached the door of the apartment. Once inside, the My Fair Lady symptoms worsened as I explored our temporary home. I shan’t go into too much detail at the minute since I’d like to share some of my favourite features in a separate post but – needless to say, much gasping ensued.

With no time to waste, we found a hidey hole home for my luggage so as not to disrupt the casual yet considered, artsy yet homey displays of beautiful things around the space – then headed straight back outside in search of Mexican food – and the other three quarters of Schnapps.

The previous night, Schnapps played a show in Islington to a reassuringly responsive (and well sized) London crowd and had been celebrating their success (and bass player, Glenn’s birthday) since. We found the rest of the band out west, a few jugs of margherita and a tray of tequila down, in fairly swank but comfily unpretentious Mexican hangout, Wahaca. Still satisfied by my 3 course breakfast aboard the train, I plumped for some small dishes – delicious slow cooked pork nestled in soft taco rounds and a black bean quesadilla.

I loved these newspaper-style menu mags at Wahaca

We left the cantina with handfuls (eyefuls?) of chilli seeds

Look at these cute tin can lanterns!

Having stuffed our heads and insides full of tortilla chips and guacamole, we bid Schnapps guitarist Leo a fond farewell and headed east again in the direction of Bethnal Green.

Jazz Domino Holly, founder of the country’s hippest W.I branch, craft columnist for Company magazine and daughter of rock’n'roll legend Joe Strummer – has only gone and trumped her already super-cool self and published a new crafty guide to doing it yourself. She’ll now be addressed as Queen of Crafts – don’t you know? ;) That’s what her book’s called you see – she hasn’t just decided to make her friends call her that for a lark. Though she oughta insist they do! I was thrilled to learn that my trip coincided with Jazz’s book launch party and was even MORE thrilled when London pal Leona Thriftola announced she’d be hosting a One Stop Vintage Haberdashery Shoppe at the event! Add to that a gripping live performance from all-girl choir Gaggle, delicious cake and sweet treats by Viva Cake AND live crafting from The Shoreditch Sisters and I do believe you’ve got yourself the recipe for the most rock’n'roll book party you ever did see. And by lord, we saw it. We saw it, we shopped it, we drank it, we ate it, we laughed it, we danced it and we lapped it right on up until the disgruntled door steward turned the music off and showed us the door :) However, we didn’t leave until Jazz signed copies of her book for us. I stopped at that (I’d already made quite the fool of myself stomping around to Woolly Bully on the dancefloor) but Jazz, the poor lamb, proceeded to meet requests to sign the chests of Schnappers Ian & Glenn. The perfect hostess! (I tried to find a suitable link for y’all to get acquainted with Jazz but I can’t really find one. You can ‘like’ Jazz’s Facebook page here. Find out about the Shoreditch Sisters here and buy The Queen of Crafts here.)

Disco sewing? Yes please!

The Thriftola Haberdashery Shoppe was CRAMMED full of flippin’ amazing things – but, alas, I had no pocket money! :(

Lovely, then – that our bonefide crafty Cockney gal, Mira, gifted me the vintage weaving kit I’d had my eye on all night! Thank you Ms Boutiquette!

Gaggle.

Schnapps. Signed.

Now, wasn’t that a book party?!

The party’s cool cat contingent was high, but we soon lowered the tone with our group rendition of this 90s gem… Sung with such passion, too. It was an emotional sort of day!

Many new friends were made at Bethnal Green Social Club thanks to a shared appreciation of ‘perform the actions’ dancing.

One more tune! And this was it. Belter.

To top off a fabulous night at a fabulous party, turns out, Schnapper Glenn and Leona Thriftola only share the same birthday! I trust they each had a whale of a time. Happy birthday pals! :)

Too much dancing – out of practice. Zzzzzz…

Cut Out & Keep. Cut Out & Give Away: Magazine Collage

Posted on August 3, 2011 by Carrie

I got in trouble when I was little for cutting up family photos and using them to make greetings cards. I cut out faces and added funny captions. The captions were as funny as captions can be when the person writing them is only 7. I presented my sisters and parents with my handmade cards on special occasions. I think my dad still has a few of my photo collage creations stored inthe big bottom drawer of his big ol’ desk. The desk is the bain of my mother’s life but that’s another story. Best left well alone.

I insisted that the photos I cut up were MY photos and that I ought to be able to do with them as I wished. That was partly true. Most of the photos were mine. They had been taken with my bright pink PIX camera with the purple curly keyring attachment thing that allowed crazy wee girls to WEAR their camera on the beltloop of her Bros jeans. Which I did. But some were stolen from photo albums and from pockets of pics that lay around abandoned in the kitchen. I usually ‘rescued’ them from the fruit bowl. The fruit bowl seldom had any fruit in it* but my goodness, it was the place to go when you were in search of an emery board.

I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong. My reasoning was, that since I didn’t have any money of my own to buy fancy cards and presents, I’d be resourceful and make my own. I hadn’t really considered that my parents had paid for my photos to be developed and that they probably hadn’t banked on me cutting them up into tiny pieces when I got them home from Snappy Snaps. My very first photo cards were received positively: “Oh! Isn’t that funny?!”/ “Isn’t that cute and a little bit clever… How nice!”. After I’d cut up a fair few years worth of holiday snaps though (many a pic of my mum and dad drinking Campari soda in Lloret De Mar was trimmy trim trimmed), I was instructed, in no uncertain terms by my mother, to stop vandalising the photo albums. I was quite hurt. VANDALISING the photo albums?! My creativity was stifled. Hey mummy! Don’t fence me in.

So. Being a (by and large) obedient kind of child, I stopped destroying fun family memories and instead turned my hand (which was, let’s be quite honest, always holding scissors) to magazines. Jeeez, I have been banging on about magazines a hell of a lot lately, haven’t I? They are always on my mind.

The ‘cutting up magazines’ obsession stayed with me a looooong time and actually, it wasn’t until I happened upon a feature in new favourite mag ilikemystyle earlier, that I realised how long it’s been since I made a magazine collage gift or greetings card.

When I wasn’t cutting stuff up to make into DIY gifts, I was cutting stuff out to stick on my wall. Even when I was really little, I liked to put loads of things on my walls – mainly photos of boys and of bands I’d torn out of Smash Hits or Jackie. As I got older though, I started just cutting and tearing stuff out of magazines I thought looked good. Advertisements, fashion supplements, funny text, random pictures and interesting graphics. I started with one area of wall – a pin board. Pretty soon the pin board was extended to the whole of the wall it hung on. Then, little by little, wall by wall, the pics spread and spread. I would add, replace and rejiggle, always making sure that I still loved the pictures I’d surrounded myself by. Thinking about it now, a LOT of them were quite raunchy. Quite provocative. I don’t think I’m so saucy now.

When I moved into my first flat (Nurse Betty’s house), I managed to contain my collage wall to one specific space. I was the curator of my own cut out and keep gallery. I’m not sure visitors always understood or appreciated my choices, but it didn’t bother me too much. I think Nurse Betty thought they were funny. She had funny things on her walls too. When I began co-habiting with a fella, I had to rein the collage wall in. I can’t really remember clearly, but I imagine this might have been the point at which framing choice pieces and displaying things in decidedly more adult formations became the norm somehow. I can’t pretend I wasn’t a little bit disappointed.

A wee while ago (though it could be as much as a year or two ago in reality!), I took a notion for image hunting and intended to pick out a series of new cut-outs to decorate the innards of my hall cupboard. I pulled out all my magazines. I made a bundle of issues that I wanted to keep intact and then set about searching for fun stuff in the others. I cut out a few gems but, you know? I wasn’t so inspired. I found it more difficult to attach new meaning or humour to the pages. When before, I might have ended up with a pretty healthy bundle of different bits and what not, I found myself with a paltry little selection of tat that I wasn’t really that enthused by.

I enjoyed the actual process of finding bits and pieces. I enjoyed physically cutting them out while trying to create a formation of pictures in my head – but I felt a bit silly when Beardy, who was sitting at the other side of the living room watching tv as I made some sort of Blue Peter-esque mess on the other, asked…

Beardy: “But what is it you’re DOING?”

Me: “Finding pictures I like”

Beardy: “But, what are you going to do with them?”

Me: “Well… Well… I don’t know. Something. Put. Them… Together? In frames? Like a grown up lady might?”

Beardy: “But we have loads of prints and photos to frame and put on the walls. What are these ones for?”

Me: “I just thought… Um. I don’t know. I was going to paste them in the inside of the cupboard. Like wallpaper.”

Beardy didn’t say much after that and the conversation, coupled with the stupid tiny bundle of pictures I’d collected, (which, let’s face it would not fancy wallpaper make unless the wall was the size of a small fireside rug), kind of put me off. I think he thought it was weird that I was cutting out pictures of beautiful people I didn’t know and beautiful things that were utterly detached from us with the intention of making them into something relevant for our home. I’d never thought that weird before, but I guess it is a little bit odd.

Magazine collage gifts I can clearly remember making…

Age 17 (ish)

I made a giant A1 collage for a boy I chucked but soon after regretted chucking (and I really did ‘chuck’ him too – how awful… Heartless bitch). I intended to present him with it by way of apology. I never did get round to it. I kept the collage for YEARS – not because I thought I might give it to him one day, but because I rather liked it.

Age 18 (ish)

I made a greetings card for my friend’s birthday. It was quite, quite rude and makes me blush even now just thinking of it. She made me one similar (and even MORE rude) the following year for my birthday! I still have it in my big green box of Important Stuff I Will Keep Forever.

I started that list thinking I could remember loads more very particular collage gifts, but turns out, I actually only remember those two.

LIST of stuff I remember I had on my wall between the ages of 14 – 19

1. Picture of a man with painting his toenails dark blue

2. Picture of Evan Dando in a stripey robe and Doc boots (I still have this)

3. Picture of Jean Marc Barr in the shower (I still have this too)

4. Picture of pretty woman with great makeup, short choppy hairdo and funny frilled collar shirt

5. Picture of a slinky

6. Picture of Elvis from 1968 Comeback Special (My mum now has this on her fridge)

7. Picture of a lady’s tongue piercing

If I had free rein to plaster exactly what I wanted over any wall I pleased, I expect my selections might be a little bit different from those of my 19 year old self. When once my big massive wall collages reflected the tastes of some little wanna-be-wild-child with a penchant for saucy photography and heavily pierced skateboarders, nowadays they’d probably look more like that wall in Sainsbury’s where Jamie Oliver keeps his recipe cards. I’d probably cut out and paste a lovely picture of an Ensalade Caprese or a nice pizza. I might cut out a picture of a pastel coloured Littlewoods granny nightie and some enormous pants. Comfy shoes. I’d definitely hunt out some comfy shoes and pop those up there. If I happened upon a photo of a sensible car, I’d cut that out and I might pop up some pics of bin men. Oh how the wild child has fallen…

Books As Art

Posted on February 21, 2011 by Carrie

Whirrrrrrrrrrr… D-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d! A-wheeeeeeeeeeee!

Power tools sure are loud suckers aren’t they? Never one to appreciate the DIY noises that occasionally emanate from my neighbours’ houses (usually at some stupid hour on a Saturday morning), I’ve always been a little bit afraid of power tools. Gruesome machines, every last one of ‘em looks like it’s designed specifically to mame and torture*. Tile cutter? Sodding thing could have your hand off. Electric sander? Surely set to whip the skin right off your forehead. Even a drill – heck, even an electric screwdriver gives me the heeby jeebies! However… Since the Nesting Project to do list is a lengthy one and since some jobs that need doing on there involve the inevitable use of the dreaded power tool, I thought I best get a (real strong, unwavering) grip and face my fear. Under the watchful eye, I managed to hang not one – but three little shelves (I stuck them all together to make one big long, narrow shelf).

*No limbs were lost in the progress of this mini Nesting Project.

Drilling into the walls of a tenement really is a messy ol' business. I was not a fan of the red and black crap that fell out of my wall. Bleugh.

Tightening up the last screw on the last segment of the book shelf...

Et voila! Our new book display shelf. It stayed up and everything!

Judge/Book/Cover

Posted on February 16, 2011 by Carrie

I’m not ashamed to admit it. I do judge a book by its cover. I’m pretty sure most of us do. At least a little bit.

To bite one of my favourite Clare Nicolson phrases of all time, I come over all ‘Jessie Judgemental’ when it comes to choosing books – craft & lifestyle titles in particular. Heck! My coffee table, if indeed I had one, would positively buckle under the strain of craft, interiors, fashion and design books that live in my house. I am a self-confessed sucker when it comes to a gorgeous cover, a beautifully designed sleeve, pretty photography… a quality paper choice…, an unusual finish, an interesting binding or quirky spine. I can’t help but fall for the papery charm. But, I’ve found, a bit like seeing a fashion designer rocking up to Fashion Week sporting a teal velour tracksuit and a pair of Crocs without so much as a smidgeon of irony (like that would ever happen), my toes bunch like nobody’s business when I search through the standard offering of craft books.

Why, oh why, does it appear that the majority of mainstream craft titles are forever destined to be the Croc-wearing style faux pas of the book shelf? I don’t doubt that the content of the books is wonderful in some cases – horrid cover or no horrid cover – but to my mind, I want my lifestyle book to woo and excite me from the first moment we meet across the ‘recommended’ aisle. Why disguise an otherwise great little read in an offputting sleeve?

Now, I could chatter all the live long day about my favourite book covers and more importantly, about my favourite crafty books and crafty writers and why I love them, but at the minute this is a topic that’s hot, hot, hot in the Maclennan household for more substantial reasons.

One of my very favourite craft books - Meet Me At Mike's. It feels more like a special 'file' than a normal book. It's designed beautifully - outside and in.

Yum. Nothing scrummier than a bit of concealed spiral binding! Couple that with a beautiful integrated pattern envelope and some pretty backing papers and you have yourself a craft book droolfest!

This summer, my very first craft book will be published. Soon – there it’ll be… On Amazon. It’ll be sitting alongside all the other titles for the book buying, web shopping world to see. The cover of my book hasn’t been finalised by my publisher yet. I wish I was allowed to show you drafts – but I’m not. Soon! Soon I’ll be able to give sneaky peeks. I have limited (if any) say in this bit of the process since the important decisions about sales and marketing (and what the book looks like on the outside) are undertaken by dedicated specialist teams. Of course, as a complete control freaker (no point denying it), I don’t have to tell you that this lack of steering power is driving me just a ‘lil bit loopyloo. All I can do now is hope and pray that these specialist teams are equally well equipped and talented in research, design, typography and semiotics as they are in trend forecasts and sales strategy. My book cover is in their hands… Wish me luck!

This evening, I conducted a little bit of research of my own. Working on the principle that we do judge a book by its cover, at least at the very beginning of our (potential) relationship with it, I settled down to scour the first 30 pages of search results on Amazon, picking out books based on my attraction to the cover alone.

I searched for ‘craft books’ in the ‘lil Amazon books search box.

Out of 360 titles, I selected just 8 to inspect more closely based on an initial judgement of the cover design. Here are the covers that enticed me when I spotted their thumbnails on the Amazon listings…

Phase 2.

I searched specifically for sewing books (my book is about sewing you see) and did the same… I didn’t include the same books I’d already chosen in phase 1. Again, weirdly, just 8 titles of 360 engaged me enough to want to know more about the content of the book.

So there we have it. A sad and rather sorry tale. Following an entire evening of web trawling, out of 720 covers, only 16 caught my eye enough to make me give a hoot about the content inside. Now that, my friends, is a depressing little sum and doesn’t bode well for my little offering. So - I need your help. Since I can’t rely on my own eyes alone, I’d like you to share your favourite craft/lifestyle book covers with me. If you wanted to – you could even try the Amazon experiment (maybe scaled down a little bit!). Let me know what you think about my selections – share your craft book buying experiences.

Share your thoughts below, why don’t you?

Carrie Not The Kind Of Girl You'd Marry

Funny stories of nostalgia and misadventure

Tag Archives: DIY