Window Shopping

From a very early age I was introduced to the joys of window shopping with a sense that this was not second best for those who basically did not have the mythical brass pennies to rub together but was a pursuit to be studied diligently and with keen awareness of the various levels and nuances that brought laughter, fun, ideas and relief from the burden of having to open an already depleted purse.

I still love to look in shop windows, wander through large department stores touching, smelling and even from time to time trying on, wrapping round and plonking on head knowing the whole time there is absolutely no need or intention to buy. I drink in the colours, sounds, textures, smells and find I have bags full of goodies to take away with me, in my head.

I can shop, am known for my prowess in finding the bargain and do not dither about making a decision to buy when that is the reason I am standing there but wandering, looking, touching and just drinking in the ideas all around me in shop windows and interiors is the very best part of any shopping trip for me.

Window shopping encourages me to dream, not of finding a windfall suddenly deposited in my bank account so I might buy everything or become the only gold tea strainer owner:0) but to consider what I have in my home that I might be able to adjust, transform, attach to other items to create the same look, helpful item etc.

I realise that copyright comes in to play somewhere in this scenario and direct copy is never my motivation or want but interpretation and feeding my imagination is.

When I went and passed the 11 plus exam and found myself pointed towards a grammar school my Mum’s ability to look at an item of clothing and know how to make it herself meant that I had the full school uniform without the need for everything being bought through ‘provi-cheques’. Hats, shoes, leather satchel and gabardine raincoat had to be bought that way because material was impossible to buy or skills / tools needed were beyond her.

But instead of being the kid from the council estate with just one shirt that had to be washed every day to be worn the next and so got frayed and worn way sooner than budget would allow another to be bought from specialist school outfitters, I was the kid from the council estate who had four shirts; one on, one in the wash and one ready plus an extra one for the times I would almost surely decide to play rugby, slide down a muddy hillside etc.

Through my mothers skill I was able to feed my imagination in a school library, in classes of Latin, Chemistry, Music, Technical Drawing and all manner of subjects that a kid from a council house would not have had the opportunity to explore so easily elsewhere.

Of course my early honed skills of collating information from disparate places like windows of shops seen from bus seats or magazines read over days in regular visits to the newsagent may have not been seen by fellow pupils or teachers for that matter as anything to hold up as good but even then I didn’t give that much thought to what others might be thinking about me I was too engrossed in finding out what I thought of me:0)

Self absorbed, yes like any early teen I am sure but my exploration of shop windows, the weeds growing between the paving stone, treaties written in a dead language by people long gone too, were and are as important a tool to finding out about me as to finding out about the world, the society I live in and the people sitting next to me on a bus. But still more than that window shopping in any form I choose to use that label for is way of me stepping away, considering, measuring need and want, realising the flaws in myself as well as product, argument or living thing and knowing that with a little imagination all are full of possibilities.

May be those possibilities will not amount to that product, argument or living thing being in my ownership but in the very act of window shopping I acknowledge its existence and in that acknowledgement I acknowledge my own existence. A glance or a stare both give a view it is the heart and mind which chooses to elaborate, erase or store.

Window shopping, the way I do it, is always entertaining because it continually sends me off on what others see as tangents but I see as clear paths that are obviously in need of treading. A mannequin adorned in the latest fashion may well catch my eye but it will be the way a certain element of the outfit folds or falls which encourages me to look up and try and find something architectural it’s just reminded me of and on looking up I realise that the colour of a particular building looks stunning against that cloud just passing and I wonder at the fact I had never thought of those two colours together before and I walk along smiling to myself only to realise as I catch a strangers eye and we share a moment that creates a day which has a place for glad glorious and good as well as sad, stupefying and stretched. That window shopping, daydreaming, being open to possibility beyond boundary has stretched out its magic and made connection not just within my all too scattered brain but onwards and outwards to a strangers heart in a nondescript probably litter strewn high street in any town.

Window shopping is another phrase for browsing, invented long before computers. It is the rational explanation for a need fulfilled without want being exercised.

It is going to the yearly fair and walking among the throng of revellers people watching, admiring ribbons lace tools seed and livestock knowing the whole while the few pennies tied safely in a cloth will make their way home barring one that will be used to purchase refreshment and though the refreshment is enjoyed it is something else that in the year ahead brings not only the sounds sights and smells of the fair back to mind but the ideas and dreams sparked at that moment. They might be re-ignited when I smooth the paper out that sweet treat was wrapped in or touch the ducks feather I plucked from the mud or look at the stain on the hem of my coat caused by a child’s foot creating a bubbling rainbow cauldron in an oil spattered puddle or it could be the remains of the used spill I watched the pipe smoker carelessly drop into dry straw which I bent quickly to extinguish and watched a moment longer than expected as the flame flickered and fanned between the stubble and formed texture, pattern and colour un-guessed at.

Small ‘treasures’ like a used wrapping paper, a discarded feather, a moment of light water and man made material or a tossed spill can all be found on any window shopping expedition. Window shopping does not need ‘things’ to be thought successful, it is not a contest in how many brands can be stuffed in to as many bags as possible. Well not for me anyway.

I do take notes, make lists, which are followed eventually, sometimes, by a purchase but unsurprisingly not with any sense of urgency except in the case of times like very recently when the central heating pump dies.

Those lists are not often made with any true sense of what the thing will actually be when it transpires I have become its keeper but it has happened too often now for me not to say that there is absolute certainty that some things find their way here in an extraordinary way through the art of window shopping.

Maybe, after all, my kind of window shopping is about discovering and then sharing my intent, ideas and wishes with a whole lot of others who are doing the same even though we have never met or have idea we are engaged in the same thing and will never actually tell each other just understand the connection through recognising a stranger smiling and smiling back.

Window shopping for me can happen without windows or even shopping ever entering the equation. This equation is all about nothing, wanting nothing, needing nothing, seeking nothing… except everything, then, understanding that everything is in the nothing. No thing can fulfil want, no thing can meet need but spending a lifetime seeking no thing can open up the possibility of everything.

These days window shopping does encompass this technology, two favourite ‘windows’ being The Book Depository and Ebay. Neither of which organisation will count me as a big customer as my glance in their direction usually takes me off to look at my own book cases, the libraries or the local charity shop and second hand ads plus of course Freecycle. I do try to keep what pennies I have in the local economy as much as possible but geographic and personal location means I am glad for online possibilities too. Though the saved list at the Book Depository and the Watching list at Ebay are hilariously long and to anyone else’s eye surely put together by a large group of disparate souls rather than one person catching shapes and ideas as she clicks a mouse.

Which brings me to the picture above taken a few weeks ago now but still the object of surprise, laughter and even tears, not bad for a large battered cardboard box discovered whilst considering embroidery silk. It's amazing where consideration can take you. Embroidery silks are not cheap especially if you plan for using an array of colours and have half formed idea so I had decided I would see if there were any oddments for sale on Ebay that I could use for experiment without wasting financial resources. I first went to a few other shop sites and the Embroiderers Guild to just check what I was going to look for, always at least make mental notes before window shopping, in my case it's always an actual list which I keep in a little notebook so that I remember there might be something I am actually looking for whenever i find myself 'browsing'. It is a grand way to find the right moment for object item or even idea to be prepared for and find myself glad but not surprised by finding it 'by chance'.

Anyway back to the box, as you can probably tell it was rather large for a few odds and ends of embroidery silk, it's dimensions are large packing case size but even though the description did say, “THIS IS AN ABSOLUTE MASS OF CRAFT STUFF GOING BACK TO THE 1920s. INCLUDES EMBROIDERY SILKS AND COTTONS, PATTERNS AND CRAFT MAGAZINES”, I didn’t quite take in the word mass.

It was the above, sorry taken off my computer screen, that impelled me to bid as it made be smile broadly because like something else I discovered dusty and forgotten reminded me a great deal of other window shopping times I’ll put a photograph of that item up in another post I suspect.(That is when I can get eyes to focus, they are still on holiday relaxing it seems)

I checked with the seller they would be willing to pack up the bits and bobs and I could then arrange for a courier to pick the box up and basically thought that was a nice dream as I put in the asking first bid and no more as my budget was not about to sprout wings… then no one else bid! Always be prepared when you window shop :0) I was surprised but pleased and knew the courier I had found would carry a box up to 25kg in weight within certain dimensions for a flat rate which less than doubled my bid but it didn’t dawn on me that 25kg would be pushing it and eventually two boxes were needed though the second was smaller:0).

The first box arrived on a grey day outside and pretty dark day inside but was helpfully carried in to my sitting room by the delivery man and placed on the settee as you see in the top picture.

I was stunned, ok mass does mean more than one or two items but this box was crammed full of more boxes and each box was cause for exclamation from me, interested sniffs from you know who and a dawning shock that something I have considered for some time might just be possible with the support of the materials in the box. I really sat stunned for a few days and then the second box arrived and I cried at the amazing synchronicity even if I am not completely convinced by that concept. Not only were these two boxes full of wondrous thread but there were real treasures for a little girl holding her mums hand so many years after she has really been able to do that.

Out of the first box came forty-five smaller boxes! of all shapes and sizes, out of the second box came packages, bags, magazines, cloth, transfers and all manner of bits and bobs any sewing basket would be pleased to hold.

I am still cataloguing the contents of the boxes and really want to take a photo of each smaller box and its contents as a record of the mass, yes, but it will be a record of one small part of a woman’s life who I never met and know very little about except amazingly the woman who had this wonderful collection was originally from a town not far from here, went off to London before the outbreak of World War 2 and became a qualified fire fighter during the blitz. How do I know this… in amongst the patterns, transfers, magazines were her exam results from a fire fighters course she attended and her qualification as fireman. There are other small indications of her life, which just added to the sense of gift this small, in price, purchase brought to my life. That and the fact that this cache had lain for over forty years forgotten in an attic and was only found when a new owner of the house climbed in to the roof space and decided not to fill another space in the land but offer it to someone who would realise the delight held in fragile boxes:0)

The 45 boxes

A small finished piece already given to someone else

And finally a piece of whimsy that is not alone

Comments

[beadbabe49]

Wonderful treasures...I'm so glad you're someone who appreciates them! I go to garage sales occasionally and sometimes I just get so sad about the disrespect given to handmade items (and their makers).

[Cathy Wilson]

Oh DW!!

What a beautiful story. What beautiful boxes. I do understand your tears of joy. Oh! Oh!