She was one of those persons who will squeeze into the same partition of a revolving door with you, on the pretext of causing less trouble. ~ Shirley Hazzard
From the January, 1911 issue of McCall's magazine, two tatted edgings (the second one looks particularly nice). Mandatory legibility comment*: click to enlarge the image and print it out. The instructions will be readable, I promise. *For those of us with vintage eyesight.
Because I don't have anything of my own scanned today, I am offering a link to a French vintage enthusiast's blog. Every Monday she posts scans from her collection of fashion, sewing and knitting magazines (click on Vintagerie for back issues). Even if you don't parlez-vous, they're a lot of fun to page through.
And in other news -- it snowed last weekend. I spent this afternoon out in the back yard, wearing a tank top and pedal pushers. According to an ominous email I got from the National Weather Service, it's going to snow again this weekend.
Since late Saturday afternoon Batdog has been acting as though he's trying to tell us that Timmy has fallen down the well. We can't figure out what's bothering him and it's driving us crazy.
You fractured a rib tripping over Aunt Glady's porch steps. I fractured a rib because the Right Honorable Earl of Strathmore and Kinghorne needs to do something about that muddy bit between the gift shop and the coach park.
(Having a high pain threshold is not an unmixed blessing. It didn't dawn on me that I'd broken anything until after I got back).
The Visa bill came Saturday. Although (as you can see by Wednesday's post) I did buy a fair amount of yarn, the real big-ticket item was a cherry-red, crew-necked cashmere sweater. Although I planned to visit some thrift shops while I was in Scotland I only made it to a handful, and none in Edinburgh. I just ran out of time. And wind. It wasn't that I did so much walking (not nearly as much as in Italy, for example, where one tour member with a Fitbit clocked us at forty-eight miles in eight days), it's just that in Scotland everything is either at the very top or the very bottom of a hill.