and the winner is...

i am thinking after the past few days we perhaps feel a little better about our addicted collecting ways.

knowing we are not alone in our 'need' to go forth, finding all sorts of waifs and strays to bring back to our nests is rather comforting.

and just as they say,

(once again wondering who 'they' are and why 'they' say it,)

i feel the old saying "someone is always worse off than yourself" is really rather true in this case. i feel my addiction to stools, chairs, tea trays, brightly colored saucepans, sugar and creamer sets, nesting dolls, yarn, doilies, vintage fabric, mid century anything and clogs, appears to be quite normal.

i actually feel rather lacking in quantity compared to many others, wondering if indeed i qualify to be called an addictive confessor at all.

so with all that waffle being said, i think it time to pick a winner.

but alas dearest readers,

i have pondered,

i have paced

and

i have fretted

as to how a winner may be picked.

how does one better

this

this

or

this

i fear my 'winner picking' ways reached an all time heady height with Greta and her death defying leap.

and so it came to be this morning as i sat upon the floor with little olive, still dressed in pyjamas (little olive dressed in her collar but no pyjamas, she prefers to go 'as is')

i was 'a fretting' to my man about the enormity of the occasion and what lay ahead for one addicted confessor upon my blog...

but alas and alack, i was without inspiration as to picking that addicted confessor.

and then it happened,

a happening to out do all happenings,

to ever have happened at Mossy Shed!

there was a knock...

i, little olive and used dog pottered to the door

me in my pyjamas

little olive in her collar

and

used dog in her spiffy neckerchief.

upon opening the door,

the angels up above started to chorus

and

glory shone all around the shed.

as the dazzling light before me began to dull it all became clear,

for upon our doorstep,

as handsome as handsome can be

was none other than

thee Colin Firth

"hello" he said quite casually and with a tone of intimacy, i noted

"i was just in the neighborhood, thought i would drop by... thing is, i googled my name the other day and dottie angel popped up. it appears you have a lot to say about me. i'm working on meeting my fans and getting to know them a little. so here i am"

suddenly i was very aware of my 'night attire' and not pretty 'night attire' but old bag lady 'night attire' that was in no way helping aid a youthful fresh 'come hither' look.

my man called from the depths of the shed "who is it Tif?" whilst watching the Rugby...
the intimate moment of 'Colin and me' immediately crumbling.

with my night attire, a man already in residence and several children milling around i knew the hopes of a 'mysterious, beautiful, eclectic woman of a certain age' getting together with Colin Firth for one brief moment in time, was lost.

but before you hang your heads dearest readers and weep for my lost opportunity with Colin.

it would appear all was not lost,

for somewhere out of nowhere a thought appeared...

a thought that made me think,

just how wonderful it would be to have a celebrity such as Colin to pick a winner,

surely that was indeed a grand idea, perhaps one of my grandest yet.

and so it came to be,

one saturday morning in a mossy shed near Seattle

Colin Firth picked a winner for my 'ordinary extraordinaries' giveaway

i noted upon his picking, that he did indeed have very youthful hands

he told me the secrets of his handcream and i immediately wrote it on a scrap of paper, knowing my gnarly paws would benefit greatly from Colin's wisdom

Colin was not only handsome and generous in his time, but he had humor as well, something i admired greatly in those few stolen moments we shared together.

when he insisted on sticking the winner upon his forehead, who was i to disagree...

then he was gone, up the road to my friend Trish's house. after admiring my chickens i told him of her addictive collecting of feathered friends and so he thought it rather nice to pay her a visit too.

i have spent the rest of the day in my pyjamas, claiming to my man i will never ever wash them again,

for i do recall,

in fact i am quite positively sure,

that for one brief moment in time, Colin Firth touched the sleeve of my granny cardigan (masquerading as a dressing gown) and apart from not washing it, i am very close to 'framing it'...

and so dearest readers, we have a winner, a winner picked by Colin Firth no less

and that winner is

My name is Kat and I am a shoe-aholic. It has been 6 hours since my last purchase.

It has only just occured to me that I have a problem, but as you suggested, I have just looked around my house and noticed that I have AT LEAST 15 pairs in each room (we have 9 rooms) there is also an ever growing pile at the bottom of the stairs. I have 40 (full) show boxes at the back of my walk in wardrobe. I have a couple of pairs in my office at work. I have 3 pairs in my car boot. A few pairs at my mums house. I have heels, flats, wedges, stilettos, sandals, flip flops, LOTS of boots (including my latest lovlies which are furry lined with toggles up the sides!), wellies, slippers - lots of slippers, trainers. Black ones, red ones, blue ones, pink ones, shiny ones, sparkly ones... oh god, I'm feeling the need to buy more, I've got myself all excited!

So, yes, I'm Kat and I am most definitely a shoe-aholic. I also collect buttons. I have some shoes with buttons on.

congratulations to you Kat, my dearest addictive collector of the bestest kind, i think it is a win most deserved!

this little vignette of vintage goodness will be winging it's way to you...

and now i must away

to recline upon my couch,

reflecting upon the day

Colin Firth came to play at Mossy Shed

she will be back on Monday with tales of little olive her hopes and her dreams ~ Tif

an 'ordinary extraordinaries' giveaway...

yesterday you may recall, i confessed to thee my stoolaholic ways.

if you cannot recall yesterday's confession

do not fret,

do not weep,

do not cry to the skies

"that Tif, she has made me feel so crappity crap about my recalling ways"

for that would not be at all my intentions,

no dearest readers, that is the furthest thing from my mind.

so perhaps with all that being said i'll start again

yesterday, i confessed to thee my stoolaholic ways.

as i stand upon my little stool today,

i am wondering if it is true what they say about confessing is good for the soul.

actually i don't know whether they do say that, whoever 'they' are.

but it sounds rather lovely for today, so we will go with the notion that indeed,

a confession frees the soul and makes one feel good.

or in my case, makes me look around and count the chairs amongst the stools within the shed and start to feel a little uneasy about discovering another addiction.

but my dearest lovely readers, i think you will find, it's not about me today...

oh no sirree, it's all about you and the lovely confessions i know you are keen to share

("no we are not Tif, that's crappity crap, we wish to keep our deepest addictive collecting confessions to ourselves!" i hear you exclaim)

and that is perfectly acceptable, i am totally okay with that.

after all you are entitled to keep your 'addictive collecting' confessions close to your chests and not share with every man and his dog that happens to stumble upon my ramblings.

however if you wish to be in with a chance of winning

my 'ordinary extraordinaries' vignette of vintage goodness,

then i am afraid you are going to be doing some confessing.

("oh Tif, you are simply wicked with your bribing ways" i hear you chorus

"why yes i am" i reply with cunning throaty laughter, plenty of rubbing hands together and throwing back my head for added effect)

dearest readers, it quite simple and 'oh so confessional',

if you wish to give this little 'say it like it is' wall hanging

complete with little 'forsaken soul' birdie,

several cotton thingy-me-jigs

and

a torn up bit of vintage wallpaper

(i know, doesn't get much grander than a torn up piece of wallpaper)

a lovely forever home,

then all you have to do is

1. locate your 'thinking cap', do not panic, nor collapse in fear of not remembering where you last put it, this little give away will be up for a few days so you have plenty of time to calmly recall your last footsteps and locate the whereabouts of the last time you did some 'thinking'.

2. when 'thinking cap' is located and nicely upon your head, start to think about what you like to collect, then think about things that you didn't realize you collected, but upon perusal of the room, it is quite obvious you have gone from a novice collector to an 'addicted collector in denial'. and before we go any further, i'm not talking about a jar of old buttons here, i'm talking about seeing a quantity of something within your dwelling that upon realization, it's rather shocking to the system, how your collecting ways have got out of control.

3. count your collection so you can really, really face the fact you have become an obsessive collector of whatever it is you are an obsessive collector of and have the quantity to prove it.

4. then confess to me (and every man and his dog) in the comments section here or in my inbox (tif @dottieangel.com) if you don't have a blog.

after you have confessed, i shall pop your name in my confessional bowl and you will be in with a chance of winning my 'ordinary extraordinaries' giveaway

simple, easy and oh so revealing!

(another throaty laugh can be heard around mossy shed, followed by some gleeful dancing in clogs)

i will leave this 'confessional giveaway' open only until this friday 26th Feb, midnight pacific time, actually let's make it 10 pm as i don't do well staying up late. i will then announce the winner on saturday.

i have no idea how the winner will be picked but it will be picked and a winner there will be...

and before i head off to recline upon the couch feeling tres sorry for myself due to visiting the dentist this morning,

(who i am quite sure had been watching Little Shop of Horrors before starting her shift).

i must tell you of the tres exciting 'honor' that has been bestowed upon our little olive.

yes indeedy,

little olive is Pedlars 'dog of the week'.

seeing her upon their fabby home page has made up for all the peskiness of late and i have found it within my heart to forgive and forget her 'clog loving' ways of last week

she will return on Saturday with a confessional 'ordinary extraordinaries' winner ~ Tif

confessions of a stoolaholic...

i can no longer be in denial,

it is a fact

and

a truth, i must confess to.

"my name is Tif and i am a stoolaholic"

until friday i had no idea of my addictive ways and then as i stepped back to admire my newly 'dottie angeled' friend i looked around me and noted an abundance of friends for my friend.

i wandered into the kitchen and noted several more friends, rounding the corner to my studio, seeing yet more.

i gasped,

i clutched my chest

and

i saw what i had become

i raced upstairs as fast as my little red clogs would allow, clearing the little olive 'wall of defence' at the foot of the stairs in one single bound.

(yes even at 41 and a little bit, i've still got it in me when need be)

my bedroom revealed two friends

our bonus room, two more...

i started to feel lightheaded, trying to recall when this 'condition' of mine had begun.

my man's face flashed before me with those looks upon my arrival back at the shed, stool in hand. now i could see what he had been hinting at and yes, it would appear he had every right to ask with eyes raised to the heavens "really Tif, do we need another stool?"

i have always defended my actions, finding excuses, mumbling protective words to save my thrifty find from harmful verbal attack.

but dearest readers, there is no doubting what i have become, after friday's revelation, it is most clear indeed, i have become the Imelda Marcos of the stool world.

i stand here before you

(on a stool of course)

and with deep breaths,

reveal,

i am the owner of 16 stools,

painted

midcentury

crocheted

wooden

short

tall

odd

dottie angeled

useful

it would appear i like them all

i fear my addiction upon confession has not abated,

for this very morning i have been rustling around in the garage to find a forgotten friend,

to bring her into the shed

to make her feel loved like all the others

and

to make the number up to 17

dearest readers, before you are quick to judge, perhaps 'tut tut' at my stoolaholic ways, do you think i confessed my addictive ways purely for your entertainment this monday morning?

of course i did not, i have my reasons, i have my cunning plan and tomorrow all will be revealed...

("oh Tif, what a simply thrilling, nail biting, gripping 'leave em hanging' ending!" i hear you gasp

"why thank you, i do try" i reply)

until then, she is spending time wisely, playing hide and seek with more friends in the yard ~ Tif

random things of note...

1. puppies are not much different to toddlers,

after a long day of doing 'mischief' they curl up,

go to sleep

and

one's heart forgives and forgets

2. thrifting in clogs is a must,

it makes one stride around the store with intention,

suddenly one appears to have the qualifications to thrift.

i know this to be true because when wearing my 'new sweeties' upon my feet, i scored my first piece of secondhand clothing since my challenge began.

it is whirring around Miss W. Machine as i tippity type and then all will be revealed

3. a 'cluster of happy' is perfect for a 'spring fling' feel,

my little cluster was hanging in front of orla's goodness,

i feared my little 'cluster of happy' was not quite as happy as she could be.

so i moved her to a corner where she could shine in all her happiness and be amongst friends

4. mixing mid century and vintage is my bestest of besty things to do.

sometimes i step back and have to walk away "tut tutting" at what i have done.

then later i return to greet my newly decorated friend,

spend a while together and realize that yes indeedy,

she's looking peachy

5. risk taking for 2010 has reached an all time 'high risk' factor and we are only into february.

am i scared? why yes i am

am i excited? why yes i am

am i tres amazed to be heading up a three day 'dottie angel' workshop in september? why yes i am

she is wishing you the peachiest of 'risk taking, cluster of happy' weekends ~ Tif

footynote: ah ha! did i say three days! well what i meant to say was three nights and two full days, oh silly me... when i have more details available i will be sure to inform you of the 'nitty gritty' stuff :)

footy footynote: do not fear potential 'dottie angel workshop dearies', i will not be in charge of the cooking, i think that most important to be told upfront thus eliminating cause for concern.

luckily the lovely Angela will have that all under control...

when we were young...

if you are sitting comfortably, then i shall begin...

every year as a young child, i would spend my summer vacations on the coast of Cornwall in a small fishing village, with my three older brothers and my folks.

as far as i can remember, our two weeks of holidaying consisted of

~ early morning walks to the next village for newspapers and fresh bread

~ day after day playing on the beach building walls to stop the tide from coming in

~ one of us getting sun burnt despite my mother's careful two hourly applications

~ the sun always shinning and it never, ever raining

~ going to the pub in the evening for a packet of crisps and a bottle of coke

~ staying up late playing cards and board games

~ spending pocket money on shell creatures with glued on 'googly' eyes

~ wearing fishermen smock tops in red and blue

~ and new clogs

("lordy here we go again" i hear you sigh)

that's right dearest readers, for as long as i can remember summer vacations as a child meant a new pair of clogs.

we would take a trip to the big town nearby, climb the windy narrow pavement, risking life and limb with the lorries careering past and venture into the Clog Shop.

where upon the noise of the high street would fade away and i would be transported to Clog heaven...

i would gaze at all the lovely pretties lined up before me, marveling at how Sweden must surely be the best place on earth to live, as everyone wore clogs upon their feet.

then after a while of 'marveling', my mother and i would chose a pair and leave, clippity clopping out of the shop to spend the next year wearing our clogs with great pride.

one such year, upon entering the Clog Shop i spied a pair to equal no other pair of clogs i had owned before.

my feet once again having grown, required me to peruse the shelves of 'clog heaven' and make a choice,

but there was no choice to be made that day, only the pair before me would do,

for i could see no other clogs,

just the pair that called my name, telling me i was the chosen one.

yes indeedy, a patchwork brown and tan pair needed my feet and my love.

i left that day, with my 'true loves' on my feet and a skip in my step...

soon after, my family moved home thus resulting in a change of schools midyear.

i dressed myself aged 10, most finely i felt, for my first morning.

upon my feet, my trusty patchwork clogs.

that day was the first day in my life i saw myself through eyes belonging to others,

my beautiful 'pride and joy' clogs appearing to be a cause of amusement for my new classmates.

i came home,

i took my clogs off,

i placed them in the cupboard

and

i never took them out again.

my childhood affair with clogs was over,

there would be no more summer trips to Clog heaven for me...

but dearest readers do not despair, nor weep into your little hankies,

for we all know a good tale must have it's element of sadness, but with luck, a good tale also turns out just dandy in the end.

and this little tale is no exception...

yes indeedy,

for that 'clog loving' little girl,

who was knocked down so long ago,

and

who took quite a while to get back up,

(actually 31 years to be precise)

is standing tall and happy today,

thanks to the mighty fine vintage clog aisles on Etsy!

that's right my 'clog loving' dearest readers,

the most beautiful, bright, perfectly sized,

secondhand Swedish clogs have found me.

to think, they were waiting out there in the world, sensing that one day Tif would be on her thrifty, handcrafted year.

that i would turn back to the path that leads to Clog heaven,

that i would long to hear the 'clippity clopping' of wooden souls upon the ground beneath

and

that i would go searching for some 'perfectly peachy' clogs to call my own again.

i'm so tres delighted with my new found friends that i crafted them a 'little sunshine sack' to match, to show them i'm commited to our long life together and so they may cut 'quite the dash' upon the streets of my home town...

she sees the peachiest of 'clog heaven' summers ahead for her and her little sweeties ~ Tif

footynote: now would not be the time to mention that little olive also loves my clogs, that little olive and her pesky ways has taken such a liking to my clogs that alas, they are now sporting a rather sad looking wound.

i am also thinking now would not be the time to confess at the point of discovering rather sad looking wound, i said some very wrongful things to little olive, such things as "i'm calling the hot dog factory" and other such unforgiveables when talking to a sausage dog, yes i am thinking now is not the time...

Miss Ethel is resting...

yes, the 'ever so lovely' Miss Ethel has given all she can give and is now resting with her jacket on, in the corner of my studio.

i am most pleased with her efforts for tomorrow's shop update.

for your perusal, there will be

summer apron wraps

whatnot garlands

little sunshine bags

and

'just say it like it is' wall hangings

of course i always wish there was more to put in the shop window and sadly my printer, (who is nameless, which may account for why things are not going peachy) is rather sick, therefore he is also resting like Miss Ethel, causing my plans to have some new sets of cards featuring my 'just say it like it is' wall hangings, to go to pot...

but dearest readers, we will not let my printer's 'issues' cast a dark cloud upon today's offerings no sirree!

for today may appear to all intense and purposes to be an ordinary day.

but today's ordinary day,

is actually somewhat extraordinary,

yes, today marks my 400th rambling upon my shiny space,

and as if that wasn't enough to make things go from ordinary to extraordinary,

it is also three years since my little store on Etsy opened.

("wow Tif!" i hear you gasp

"i know, quite extraordinary indeedy" i reply)

it is not without wonder, that i survey all that has happened within the past three years and all that i see unfold before me.

when i opened up my little etsy store and a few weeks later began to ramble upon these pages,

i had no idea how my life would change,

how it would take on a such a peachy direction.

in short,

i am truly humbled to think of my good fortune when i look back

i am without doubt,

quite positively certain,

that without my shiny place here

and you alongside me,

i would not be crafting what i'm crafting

nor nesting like i'm nesting within Mossy Shed

and so to celebrate such milestones of 'ordinary extraordinaries' i will be having

an 'ordinary extraordinaires' give away next week

("oooh Tif how splendid is that" i hear you exclaim)

to thank you most kindly for being my readers of the utmost kind,

for casting your votes in my direction for The POPPIES when asked by used dog

and

most importantly of all,

for keeping me on the righteous and goodly path of crafting and rambling over the years.

she will be back tomorrow with a thrilling 'clippity clopping' tale ~ Tif

a little research...

if i was stopped in the street by a market researcher,

asking me if i had a few minutes to answer some questions on crafting.

i would say

"why yes i do"

she would then continue

"are you a crafter, madam ?"

i would reply

"why yes i am"

and then she would ask

"what is your one true love used within your crafting endeavours?"

and i would answer with no hesitation,

no need to pause

nor

ponder my response,

for i know in my crafting heart of hearts, that i would not be able to continue down the righteous and goodly crafting path i have chosen in my life without a certain something that gets my 'cogs a turning'...

yes, i love my yarn,

yes, i love my lace

and

yes, i still continue to love my doilies,

all of which have a part to play

but what i love more than all of the above is

secondhand linens

covered in flowers

bright, sludgy, oversized, little, pretty, quirky, odd, ugly

i'll take them any way they come.

be it a pillowcase, a bed sheet, a tablecloth, a napkin, a runner or a curtain,

each and every one of them,

upon discovery,

whisper sweetly to me,

get my juices flowing,

'turn on' my crafty self

and

set me out on a love affair until i have used up every last scrap...

after which i morn our lost love.

but it's never for long,

as there is always 'another love' waiting upon the shelves of despair,

ready to take a spin with me and Miss Ethel, thus resulting in the beginnings of a new love affair.

she is keeping her energy levels up with her five pack of cadbury's chocolate flakes ~ Tif

loving mid winter...

my lovely lot are on midwinter break...

(hence the crappity crap weather)

i knew it was coming, i just hadn't realized it would come quite so quickly.

(that's midwinter break and not the rain)

once again another week just whizzes by and i'm left pondering as to how i manage to idle my days quite easily by, with glue sticks, paint and paper.

yet when it comes to laundry matters and other such delights that befall me, i suddenly lose my ability to move.

Miss Ethel has, i am pleased to report, been motivated like she has never been motivated before, i am tremendously delighted with her 'outpourings' this week...

all destined to be placed on the shelves of my little store next Thursday.

the two of us have many more hours ahead of 'togetherness', doing what we do best and as our 'moments of creativity' will have to be fitted around my clan and their daily 'wants and needs', i'm thinking it might be rather sensible of me to take a few days to dally in the real world.

but before i bid you 'fare thee well' i must thank you most kindly for brightening my days,

with your words of encouragement,

thoughts of clogs (have you dreamt about them yet?)

and

general all round niceness towards me and myself...

i wish for you this sunday a little act of kindness or love,

not in a 'oh lordy, it's colin firth at the door declaring undying love for me' sort of way

(well actually that wouldn't go amiss)

but just knowing you are needed somehow, somewhere by someone.

and yes,

the dog or cat counts

and yes,

i'm also thinking houseplants are acceptable.

in fact i can't think of anything nicer than knowing one owned a houseplant that loved one.

i don't know that feeling... the only houseplant i owned sadly departed soon after entering the shed.

when i told my father, a lover of plants, the great excitement of owning a houseplant,

exclaiming the responsiblity i had taken on, bringing a little green friend into the fold.

i know, that was the moment i made a 'grown man' weep...

she will see you on tuesday, with yet more 'thrilling tales' from a Brit misplaced abroad ~ Tif

me and my glue sticking ways...

before i got sidetracked by

my thrift store saturday

my closet issues

and

my clog lusting ways

i had planned to bring you the thrilling adventures of moi and my glue stick.

ah yes, dearest readers i am in love with a glue stick and if you are sitting comfortably then i shall begin...

last week when i was looking for my 'lost groove' amongst the shelves of despair,

i rounded the corner from towels to furniture and blocking the aisle was a little table.

the little table spoke to me.

she told me of a time when she had been loved,

but alas was now forgotten.

she also informed me that she was a solid little table made of oak, no less.

(i'm not sure about the oak bit, but i didn't want to hurt her feelings on the matter so i just nodded, knowingly)

after she had finished her little 'please, please help me' speel,

i got down on my knees and looked at her under bits, shifted her around to see if all her legs were level and matching.

i then told her,

yes indeed she was a sturdy little table but it would appear i had no need for her solid ways and promptly pushed her back under the shelf, tucked out the way so i could get past.

now before you 'gasp!' and hang your heads, saddened to think the Tif you read about today is not the Tif you know so well. in my defense we must remember i had lost my groove at this point, i was drifting without direction, i was unable to give a little table the love she deserved and yes, i will admit it, i was heartless and cold.

on my return to the Shed, the little table haunted me,

she knew that i knew she had potential, a thing i respect.

she knew that i knew, she had shuffled out into the aisle purposefully to find me.

she knew that i knew, i needed her even though i didn't know it at the time.

("blimey Tif, this is another epic tale" i hear you exclaim

"i know and i haven't even got to the glue stick bit yet, so perhaps you may care to take your pea soup off the boil and come back, for you are in for a long haul" i kindly suggest)

i was left with no option.

i needed to go back,

i needed to find the little solid table,

i needed to beg her forgiveness

and

i needed to bring her home to Mossy Shed...

all the members of my clan had an opinion on the little table that stood in my studio waiting for her moment to shine.

i'm pleased to report, most were favorable.

they appreciated her solid ways and marveled at how one doesn't find a little oak table everyday at the thriftstore of such delicate proportions.

(ah yes, i feel i have brought them up well)

it was the oldest member of the Shed who let me down, his eyes alighting upon her, exclaiming "oh no Tif, not more crap! i can't move for crap these days. please why?"

i chose to ignore him, which i think in these circumstances is the best way to go. after all he does not possess what we do... alas he was not granted the 'gift of vision' when it comes to thrifty finds, bestowed upon us by the thrifty gods. yes we are the choosen ones and we must be kind to the folks in our lives without 'gifts' such as ours.

after four coats of glossy soft white paint, showing off her lovely little feet and underskirt, she appeared to need something else.

she needed something pretty on top.

i knew what i wished it to be, i wished it to be the most loveliest of vintage wallpapers but alas my stash is rather lacking, and no piece was large enough.

i pondered,

i procrastinated

and then

i had an epiphany

why yes indeedy, the very thing i needed was lurking in my drawers.

(ha! do you like that line, me too!)

armed with nothing more than a glue stick

(actually two, as one was rather low, so i had to rustle around in a few other drawers to locate another to finish the job)

origami paper

and a pencil

i got to work.

the edges were a little tricky, and they are certainly not perfect

but at the end of the day after much patience and a coat of varnish, my little table is looking rather lovely.

she has become a much needed extra surface for myself and Miss Ethel, fitting in quite nicely indeed.

now i'm not saying that a glue stick and origami paper is perhaps the most robust of surfaces, but in the case of my little table, where she will be gently used and cared for by myself, allowing no other clan member to treat her harshly, i'm thinking she has a long life ahead of her, being the solid little number made of oak, that she is...

she is thinking if only she could do the same with a thrift store dress she would be onto a winner ~ Tif