I found some charming birds

Charming Magpies is in the centre of a charming city called Winchester.

When I visited the rain was about to pour down, so I was happy to step into my favourite type of world.

It's all new - the paint, the varnished floors, the brown price tags carefully tied on with string. 



The place was flooded five months ago, but you can tell a lot of love and time has been lavished to ensure the first day of opening was as perfect as it can be.

It feels fresh.  I'm looking forward to going back when the newness is worn in a little and the rough edges start to appear. 

The clothes are neatly arranged and colour co-ordinated, so reaching out to my favourite blues and yellows was really easy and quick. 

The dresses are perfectly pressed and vibrant. The order encourages you to sweep through the rails in the hope of spotting something sweet.

I passed up on a few things I liked because I already sort of had the same shape or style in my wardrobe.   At the moment, I can't justify duplication, even if it is in a different colour.  

My brain is looking for a dress to wear to my lovely friend Julia's wedding.  On this visit Charming Magpies failed to live up to what I imagine I'll wear on the day, but I did see a dress that I thought was pretty and spent some time trying it on. 



I twirled around in the incy wincy changing room - imagining summer and me breezing to work in this frock.

It only cost £25 - so I ummed and ahh'd for a good while.  On my way out the lady gave me a flyer with a 20% discount - oh my I thought, too late.  I'd already ummm'd and ahhddd' for a a good while and imagined how I would feel once I'd left the shop ad left the dress behind.  I decided I'd be ok.  Maybe next time though.  

This place is one of those places I wish I could just pop into during my lunch break or at the weekend when I’m on my way to the station to go somewhere else.  I'm sure I’d find something at some point.  You know it’s a gem you could rely on to fill your wardrobe with beautiful unique things. 

The range isn’t vast, everything isn't crammed in, so you can have a good dress feast without feeling overwhelmed. 

They have more suitcases to pick from than ladies belts, but I imagine, more stock will whisk its way in and out of there as they get more and more stock important.

It’s a cute little shop that just needs more people knowing it’s open again for business.

You can find Charming Magpies at this address: SO23 8AT

Waiting for spring in 1950s style

It's been cold for too long now.

I have a dainty white shirt I bought from Hepwright's in January and I want to wear it.

The label says 1950s white blouse, so I googled 1950s white blouses and came up with lots of images that had similar Peter Pan collars,  embroidery and puffing down the front.

Today it's been blowing in the breeze in my back garden, but in real life it does look much smaller and more delicate.

I'm sure I'll spend all day a little worried that I'll stain it.  I'll manage somehow to miss the big pad of paper in front of me and get it on my shirt.  I remember patatas bravas tomato oil making a permanent mark on the nipple area of a new white and black striped vintage dress. Uchhhhhhh, I still wear it though with a badge strategically placed - ha - ridiculous?..possibly...do I care?.. nah!!!

I want to wear this skirt and top too. 

Do you think it will be way too much to wear the top and bottom bit together?  I tried it on with a thin burgundy belt - hair pulled back into a high bun and high high heels. 

I think the material is silk.  Old silk that will clearly show every little perspiration mark, but I'll endeavour not to sweat in it.   I'll walk slowly and make sure that I don't leave everything to the last minute.  I'm guessing this is 1950s too because it's the same collar shape as my white blouse. 

How I'd love to wear them tomorrow.

But I can't.

It's too cold.

It's spring, it's April and I'm still waiting for the warmth of the sun.

Blouse: Hepwright's: Southampton: £16
Jacket & Skirt: Hepwright's: Southampton: £28 but she gave it to me for £25 :0)

What do you smell like today?



My perfume is sunbathing beside an apple that once was.


Perfumes remind me of different stages of my life.

Exclamation! was the bridge between cheap deodorant to my first real bottle of Lulu that I could afford.

My best friend at school wore Obsession and I wished quietly for my very own, even though I didn't like it so much.

I felt like a real grown up lady during my Clinique phase and Kenzo Jungle told people I'd arrived in a room and left a little while ago.

For now I've settled on Caruthsia and really nothing else will do - except something made by Tesco that I loved and they discontinued. (sad face)

Out of the range, I was introduced to Ligea.  The scent carries a great story.  It's not mass produced or created by some famous person's people.

It's hand-made on the Isle of Capri.  They tell me it's the littlest perfume lab in the world and I believe them.

The ingredients are picked from a monastry garden.  I'm not a religious person, but I like the fact that the seeds of my scent have been nourished by the Italian sun and harmonious prayer.

They still use the same method the monks did hundreds of years ago. 

I warn you.  The first sprays are potent. 

I always cough out loud - which is gross and have to apologise in advance to people around me for the strength of the smell, the ooomph that hits the back of your throat and forces you to stop breathing.

Then it settles and one smells of gentle talcum powder.  Fresh, breezy, clean and distinctive.  It lasts forever.

The £50 for 50ml is a fair price to pay, but I always opt for £60 for 100ml - cause I always like a bargain.

It's the gentler version of  Guerlain's Shalimar  -  a delicious youthful smell  is revealed  only once the initial old musky tones fades away.

When I was 24, I had just moved to London and there was this very grand fashionable lady called Anna. She was an Account Director in ad agency I worked in.  I loved how she glided into a room - stong, beautiful and self assured.  She wore black against pale skin. Her bright designer jewelry wrapped round her kneck and wrists.  They sort of knocked your eyes out ever time you saw her. But it was her smell that I wanted to emulate. 

I thought when I'm older, when I can call myself a lady, I too will smell like you.  She told me her secret smell and I forgot it, then I remembered Shalimar. 

Now I've found my alternative it's always lovely to hear someone say I like your perfume and for some reason it's even lovelier to say it was made by monks.