Having seen the various comments on Facebook about this exhibition, I vowed to get to see it before it finished. A family wedding was occupying much of my time but I foresaw no problem with buying tickets for a later date. How wrong I was! As I tried to book online, the dates filled up and ‘sold out’ appeared against each date. I finally resorted to taking out membership, just as they extended to exhibition to September. But, it has meant that I can go when I like and as often as I like. The whole show is beautifully stages in a new basement gallery at the museum. Having subsequently looked at images from the parallel exhibitions in Paris and Dallas, the same guiding hand has obviously curated them all. Billy & I have been wanting to divide our garden to allow our chickens to roam in safety - away from potentially marauding Jack Russells/feline articles, and I'd seen lovely pictures on Pinterest of artfully created willow fences. I enquired around and found Wasseldine Willows who were prepared to come to us with the materials, and to teach us on site how to make our fence. So finally last month Guy from Wasseldine turned up one sunny morning with a trailer full of willow and hazel stakes, and we got stuck in. I was lucky; I was there on the Sunday. Hilary and Michele had to set up in pouring rain on the Saturday but by Sunday it was merely just dull, drizzly and windy. Still, we were in a good solid marquee so sheltered from the elements. Finding the actual festival site was quite tricky as it’s a 1,000 acre site with tracks going in all directions and not signposted for the likes of tradesmen! However, having gone down one incorrect muddy track I was sent in the right direction by a lady walking her dog.
The Festival was held in a large, wind-swept field but it had a very nice ‘feel’ and all the stallholders and visitors were charming. The Fashion and Textile Museum: Swinging London: A Lifestyle revolution
Terence Conran and Mary Quant I came of age in the sixties. This was my era so my visit to the Fashion and Textile Museum in Bermondsey Street was more than a little tinged with nostalgia. I had grown up under rationing so my family home was one of make and mend. Even our Christmas presents were recycled from ones my father had fashioned previously. My middle brother searched in vain for his old wooden steam engine. It had become a fire engine for our younger brother. I learned to sew at a very young age; so young in fact that I was accused of lying when I took some doll’s clothes in to show my needlework teacher. |
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