Last Sunday was warm. Very warm. Perfect in fact for a vintage fair, and where else could it possibly be but Heydon: the Norfolk village that never grew up, on the green that never evolved beyond the feudal apron strings of the manor beyond. I could wax lyrical about how this cul-de-sac could charm even the most unromantic to take a slow earl grey at the coffee house.But I would rather save my words for the fair, where in the smallest space you could imagine stalls and stalls of delightful fabric, clothing, embellishments and other delicious types of tat were piled like swollen waves waiting to crest and fall over me.
Needless to say it was a good day for Restless Rose, who after abandoning her children to the sun drenched green managed to rack up a quite a stash in the space of an hour. She could not resist the starched white cotton petticoat for five pounds, nor the broken green brooch for a pound. Like a scene from Zola’s novel “ladies paradise”, she was so overcome by lace at one stall, it took all her concentration to make rational purchases. There is nothing more reasoned than black millinery flowers at £2, exquisite guipure lace pieces still attached to pale blue crinoline, for £5 and a fat roll of taupe embroidered net lace for £3. The diamante belt buckle for £4 was too delicious to resist as was the bag of fringing in rich jewel shades – £1. Is it an addiction or harmless fun? I have already designed a tiara with the guipure lace so I would rather see it as a profession!