memorial day weekend = half-price sales at thrift stores.
so i went back and got the threadbare, worn kilim pillow i had left behind when i bought my first one. i soaked it overnight but it still looks dirty. i’m nuthin’ but a dirty hippie now.
speaking of hippie, shoot me now cuz i also got a small kilim bird purse. i must’ve bought 100 pocketbooks in the past month or so.
ok, well, 4.
but i could’ve bought 100. i’m the lady in the thrift store talking to herself saying, “no no no no no you don’t need this.”
sometimes i listen to the voices, sometimes i don’t.
these are instances when i didn’t listen.
at first i thought that “H” one could’ve been a vintage hermes bag from the 70s. it isn’t.
but if people ask, i will say, “yes, yes, as a matter of fact it IS an hermes.”
cuz a status bag is IMPORTANT.
no it’s not.
also – posters.
more effin’ posters.
the one i like best cuz it’s a lion and i’m a leo is ripped and has mold on it. yup, breathing hazards and less than perfect condition will not stop me from buying 70s polish art posters. mold schmold.
in better condition is the all-too-familiar “why do i buy cat stuff when i can’t stand cats” poster.
say it with me.
which in my world translates to practically free.
and also it’s just kinda awesome.
and yet a little scary. perhaps the stuff of nightmares.
these are cyrk posters by hubert hilscher. cyrk mean circus. i’m brilliant like that.
and let me also admit this. who do i think i am calling myself a pro at thrifting? i thought i would brave the crowds at goodwill this morning before work cuz it was half-price off everything in the store and i had my eyes on a pair of jeans i wanted to distress and a couple tee shirts and an 18″ x 24″ empty frame that would be perfect for my newly matted screenprint thrifted last year. so i was right there at 9 AM. trouble is, they opened at 8 AM. the place was a mob scene. i felt like such a rookie. ashamed, i am. the frame was gone, darn it, but everything else was there, along with this enamel ladle in size huge that i didn’t own yet and am not sure how i’ve lived life this long without.
since it’s the kickoff to summer unofficially, i officially looked for a new (to me) summer cocktail to try and i found this one. a blueberry french 75.
fresh blueberries, fresh squeezed lemon juice, gin and champagne.
lemme say for the record – it might look girlie, but it packs a WALLOP. not for the faint of heart. i think i was buzzed on one sip. but i have to say, i’m pretty sure this is going in the ol’ cocktail rotation, with or without blueberries. plus i feel pretty sophisticated saying i’m drinking a french 75 and as we all know, the meaning of life is all about fake sophistication.
click here for recipe.
i succumbed to the kilim pillow.
for the LIFE of me, i do not understand the appeal of a kilim pillow.
when i think pillow, i think comfy. non-itchy.
kilim does not equate comfy in my mind.
and yet there it was at the thrift store, looking all vintage-y and all broken-in boho and all of $3 so i bought it.
yup, the internet pressures of must-have decor grabbed me, gripped me and now i’ve jumped on the kilim pillow train of discomfort.
kilim pillow softness quotient:
itchiest, roughest thing i’ve ever felt in my life.
that said, if you wear several layers of clothing (and a parka) and lean against it, you don’t notice.
just prior to finding this i spotted a half-price kilim vest in goodwill and bought it figuring i’d cut her up and sew ‘er into said pillow. i was riding the planetary aligned kilim wave that week. (rug and god’s eye were ebay purchases. i’ve been cheating on my thrift stores with ebay.)
no need now. i only need one itchy pillow in my pillow repertoire.