Friday, January 7, 2011

A Whimsy Detour

Sometimes the past just swings up to me, and I am five years old again. 

As the baby, I looked up to everyone. They seemed so big and confident in the world.
Somehow, this child view is linked with the many chapters in my mind's visual dictionary on domestic textiles.
 

Aprons, napkins, dishtowels, bridge cloths, potholders: they all resonate of aunties, kitchens,  grandmas and past times.
 

My home was a 50's development. We had air-raid drills at school. On weekends I went to the grocery store and the lumber yard with my dad. Afterwards we pasted Green Stamps into books. I still have some somewhere.

So last year I went on a vintage-apron kick, restoring some and printing on others. Several have sold out of the studio. This one's just been listed on Etsy:

Maybe I should offer to ship it with a genuine Church Key, perhaps? Or how about some  Green Stamps?

3 comments:

Rayna said...

ogod, Linda - you can't be old enough to remember air raid drills and green stamps! I think I still have the bridge table I bought with them in my starter marriage. My mother had books and books and books of them. Church key? do we date ourselves with that moniker? Haven't heard anybody use that expression since Noah.

Thanks for the trip! Love it.

Linda Branch Dunn said...

I was little enough that the air-raid drills seemed quite real. I remember wondering how my parent would find me, and always feeling a little surprised when class simply started up again.

I loved the promise of Green Stamps. And we went to Wanamaker's (Philadelphia)to see the fountains and the hear the organ play.

Long long ago. Back when phones had cords, rotary dials, and only one per house, thank you very much.

Rayna said...

I still have a phone with a cord for power emergencies...and a couple of dial phones in the basement that aren't being used - LOL.

It will be interesting to see what the next generation looks back on fondly. I hear that e-mail is already passé and for old people because it's not fast enough. ARGH.