Sometimes, I actually forget some of the things I absolutely adore. The only charm in this, is getting the wonderful moments of remebering something long forgotten.
When I was very small, I used to spend as much time as possible at my dear, dear Nan's house. Saturdays meant Nan's spaghetti bolognese for tea (doubly tasty because of her extra store cupboard additions, that I still use today) and layers and layers of pastel coloured blankets and hot water bottles come bedtime.
She also lived opposite a field, that had three rickety old sheds belonging to the neighbours. One in particular was in terrible condition, but happened to be home to some thousands of odd buttons. If my memory serves me correctly, there had been a fire at some point, and much of the colourful treasure had been charred beyond use. But I'm positively certain there were enough, beautiful beautiful buttons to take back across the street, clean up, and save or use for crafting purposes, depending on their own specialness.
I do have a habit with crafting of being afraid to use the prettiest, the most wonderful, most special pieces. After all, once you commit it to something, you no longer retain the chance to use it for any other special item, and of course, with crafting, the possibilites are always endless. The shiniest bits of paper, the softest bits of fabric, the most intriguing bits of irridescent lace and metallic threads would always go unused. But that's because they were perfect exactly where they were. In a fantastic little stash of the most precious treasures.
Many years later, and the magpie in me is still fascinated by wonderful, little exciting things, and vintage buttons remain somewhere close to the top of the very long list. A couple of weeks ago, I was visiting a friend whom is delightfully creative, and she happened to show me a lovely old metal tin, stuffed to bursting with old buttons, belt buckles and little bits of things that at some time, someone thought 'I can probably make use of this' and shoved it in.
In part, it is no doubt the story behind an item that I find so riveting. A couple of Christmases ago, I had this conversation with a friend whom told me he'd always preferred to read brand new, crisp, white paged, books. This sounded absurd to me. I love old books. Books that have been held by many hands, that have a dented corner from being dropped at the bus-stop, that have a tatty cover from being thrust in and out of bags, and that have a whole other story besides the one written on the pages.
Anything that comes with age, comes with a background. Comes with a story to tell. A box of vintage buttons, for some, must be like a scrap book of memories. Anything that's important enough to make it in the tin will have a memory associated with it. The place that button was found, the dress it came from, the craft stall in the village you visited that one time...
I know I've overly sentimental, and I'm not ashamed of it one bit. My own button stash dwindled severly when I lost a huge amount of buttons several years ago. But nonetheless, I still see buttons and get wrapped up in the possibilites of all the things they could be used for - even when they're not mine!
My lovely friend was kind enough to let me have the one that I simply fell in love with. I should probably do her, and it, justice by using it for something great, but that perfect item could take some time to think of...
That's it for today, I hope I will be back soon. Time, as ever, is always far too limited! But I always have more to share, so at some point, I'll be back :)
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