A Belfast Story

Ceramic seahorse brooch, £2.75, NI Hospice

I love Belfast. I love walking its streets and looking for the things that aren’t often noticed. The streets named after horse races, the inscriptions on our bridges, the decorative details on our red-brick buildings, the hidden symbols…It’s a city that is made of so much more than the history most people know. Belfast may wear the scars of its past, but the brilliance of its past shines through too.

Titanic Museum, Belfast

My love of vintage has often helped me to learn more about the city. From the old photos I’ve found in books to the labels inside bags and coats, I’ve happily stumbled into long lost stories. It’s one of the great things about collecting bits and bobs of the past, there’s always something more to learn.

I found this seahorse brooch in my local hospice shop. The volunteer said that someone had looked at it just before me and dismissed it as it wasn’t made of jade and therefore worthless…She reckoned it was just waiting for me. I agree!

I’ve always wanted a piece of seahorse jewellery – the humble seahorse and Belfast have a very special relationship. Look around our city, in particular at our street furniture, and more often than not, you’ll see a shiny gold seahorse. There are two on our city’s coat of arms representing our maritime heritage.

The Celts associated seahorses with the power and strength of the gods of the sea. It’s also a symbol of ‘protection, recovery and health’. If you arrive or leave Belfast by our docks, a glorious 8 metre steel seahorse, commissioned to mark the 400th anniversary of Belfast Harbour bids you well.

How lovely to own a piece of jewellery that quietly connects with all of this local heritage. What makes this brooch even better is the little bit of damage on its ‘cheek’. It’s been used, it’s been worn and to me that’s more interesting than anything that’s been sadly kept-for-good.

It’ll be on my jacket tomorrow!

Rosie xx

Sit at peace

Peacock marcasite brooch, £6 from Oxfam, Ormeau Road, Belfast

Mr GLV and I are just back from holidays, a glorious week in the Scottish Highlands where the mountains wrapped around us like a big tight hug. It was a perfect break. People were scarce, the landscape was wild and 4G coverage was a distant memory. It had been an incredibly busy few months with work and a big project before we drove off the ferry and made our way along the high roads and low roads in our own version of carpool karaoke!

It’s an interesting choice, to take yourself off to a quiet space with little to do but enjoy the silence. Our holidays are usually frenetic, in a good way – interesting cities with museums and restaurants and shows and tours and trips and days filled with activity. This trip was different.

Ardvreck Castle along the North Coast 500

It’s not until you find yourself in the quiet that you realise how much noise has gone before, and just how much you missed being still. My Dad used to tell us when we were young and being hyper to ‘sit a’ peace’. Drove me mad back then! I’m not sure I’ve ever really understood the real meaning of his words until recently. There is something to be said for sitting at peace, whatever that means to you. There was a lot of it on our holiday – sometimes in the car mesmerised by the view; sometimes on the beach, watching the water; sometimes in the grip of the mountains, in awe of their scale. ‘Peace comes dropping slow’, in the words another equally wise Irish man.

And oddly, that brings me to my latest charity shop find. I hadn’t been out and about in the charity shops much recently. I was beginning to feel that I’d lost my love of the treasure hunt. I always know there’s something wrong when I can count my last vintage brooch purchase in months, not days 🙂 But I think I’ve realised the root cause of my malady. Through the summer, I’d been so busy, so focussed on details and deadlines that I just didn’t have any room left – no room at all for the warm fuzzy stuff that gives me joy. I’d forgotten that it’s the simple pleasures in life that keep us sane.

So, thank you Scottish Highlands for giving me back that fuzzy feeling.

On my first charity shop jaunt after the holidays, the stunning peacock brooch pictured above was waiting for me in the Oxfam store on the Ormeau Road. Just luck some might say. I have another theory – when your mind is open to good things, then good things will happen, be that as simple as finding a beautiful brooch or as important as spotting the job of your dreams.

Sometimes we all need to just sit at peace.

Rosie xx

Space to Sparkle

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Vintage sparkle, 99p from eBay


This year I had the joy of a two week break over the festive season and how did I spend part of it? Tearing through the house with a mania never before witnessed by poor, bemused hubby.  3 boxes and 6 bin liners later, one of my local charity shops got a bumper door drop.  And me? I felt like I did in the first week of the new school term when your new pen hits your newly margined page with an absolute, unwavering commitment to writing neatly…

Decluttering can be overwhelming when you like to collect things. It can be awkward knowing how and where to start; time-consuming going through cupboards and drawers that overflow with things that were once useful; and even guilt-inducing because you’re afraid to part with the lowliest of treasures. But, ultimately it’s important to make room now and again for new treasures, physical and emotional.

I’m a big fan of the past – its secrets and stories. This year though, I’ve started the new year, not just with a big old clear out, but with a new adventure too. It’s not easy, embracing change, creating space for the unfamiliar, the uncomfortable and the strange. Ultimately though, it’s rewarding and it’s important. Space allows us to grow in new directions. Change allows us to find bits of ourselves we never new existed – strengths and weaknesses both. That’s how we learn.

There’s probably something in one of those boxes or bin liners that I’ll  recall one day and wish I’d kept. That’s ok – I’ll content myself with the knowledge that it’s in a better, more loving home! The important thing is that in my clearing out I found space for a new treat, the pretty vintage brooch pictured above.  It was tarnished and shabby before I attacked it with gusto and a good dose of Autosol :)) Now it sparkles.

Therein lies the moral of the tale – don’t be afraid to create space, in your head, your heart or your home. Space is good – it gives you more room to sparkle 💖

Rosie xx

 

The Collecting Bug

FullSizeRender.jpgI was speaking with the lovely @Sparkletrove on Twitter (please give her a follow) yesterday, a fellow vintage brooch fan. She happened to ask me how many vintage brooches I own and I couldn’t answer. I’m honestly not sure. Not that this is particularly surprising to any of my twitter friends as my vintage brooch collecting is pretty well documented, within this blog let alone elsewhere.

Our conversation did get me thinking about my collection though, and how it has evolved over the years. I started collecting brooches around the time I got married, six years ago. The circular paste brooch in the pictures above was the inspiration for my wedding dress. It was the first (vintage) brooch I ever owned. I loved the style and the incredible sparkle and lots of similar additions followed, again like those in the pictures above. I was only interested in white paste stones in silvertone casings that danced in the light. A very limited outlook I confess!

fullsizerenderAnd then something changed! As I grew more interested in extending my brooch finds into an actual ‘collection’, I also became more aware of the huge range of vintage brooch makers that existed and the stunning styles they were renowned for. No longer was the brooch itself the object of my affection, so too was the maker! I learned about Hollywood and Exquisite, Sphinx and Sarah Coventry, Lisner and Trifari…The list is never-ending. So my vintage brooch odyssey continued, and that’s how my paste collection evolved into the type of collection that includes the pretty modernist piece photographed above that I found on a recent charity shop excursion (Age NI, £0.50).

And therein I suppose lies the evolution of any collection. You start with something you love, perhaps because it sparkles, it’s pretty, it’s rare or fascinating. Then you find yourself drawn to similar versions of it, but before long you want to know about and own every aspect of it! That’s what’s lovely about being a collector of vintage pieces – in many ways, you become a researcher and an historian in too.

I have so much to learn about vintage costume jewellery and every single time I find a new piece, my interest extends and my knowledge increases. It’s not rocket science I know. It makes me happy though!

Rosie xx