Tuesday, August 26

a woolly victim ...

hurrah hooray! i have found my first thrift store woolly victim. in my little beady mind's eye i have quite the picture of what woolly fellows i would like to find, and since having this picture, it is of course typical the racks of despair are indeedy most despairing and thus any woolly fellows worthy of consideration are rather rare.

last week though i happened upon one woolly fellow, he was rather large, rather grolly green and had rather lovely bell sleeves that ballooned out and i noted would be most perfect for hiding a cotton hankie or two in, when drippy nose temps are upon us. it was a tad tricky to try the fellow on for i was nursing my right arm and the fabby vintage floral bit of ink recently placed upon it. 

being an open wound at the time i was not letting any man, any dog or any woolly fellow near it till it was healed. that is because i am all grown up and take things like this with a great deal of responsibility rather than a pinch of salt.

so i did a half try on and i came to the conclusion the oversize-ness of it was rather splendid, the wooden buttons rather perfect and the flared, almost swing jacket shape with the gigantic bell sleeves rather appealing.

i took my first woolly victim of the coming season home with me, gave him a bath and whilst he air-dried we began to ponder... 

we pondered pockets, kangaroo type perhaps. 
we pondered elbow patches, floral fabric ones perhaps. 
we pondered clusters of flowers, various different coloured popcorn ones perhaps. 
we pondered large appliqued vintage lace, across the shoulder chesty area perhaps. 
yes we pondered each thing individually till our little heads hurt
 and that is where we are up to, just a lot of pondering and no clue with what to settle with or where to begin. 

after all this pondering i am beginning to wonder if my cunning plan to rescue woolly wonders from the rails of neglect, to bling, may end up causing me an awful lot of pondering, a big handful of procrastination and quite possibly a pile of victims, when spring rolls around, still waiting patiently for me and my blinging ways to get going