Oh dear. It's all very well knowing exactly which era of clothing brands float your boat (90s French Connection, St Michael pre M&S), but now, objects. Clothes are one thing, pieces of portable property, foldable, scrunchy fibres, shove em in the cupboard. Crocks, are quite another.
I just bought a Paragon for Asprey 'Tea for One' set from the car boot. It is beautiful cool peachy beige, proving quite to be the colour of now, what with all this Stella McCartney/Adidas wafting around and a definite ballet-soft edge. The tea set is beautiful. Tea pot, a smaller tea pot for hot water, milk jug sugar bowl egg cup, sandwich and cake plate, cup and saucer. Nine items, some used, some clean and new. A silver burnish to their edges, again some worn and some crisp. I teared over it in between quiche steps; spotted during the blind bake, pored over mixing the eggy filling, fetched during final baking. Twenty quid spent in enough time to make 4 red pepper and feta quiches that would cost you £20 for lunch from Rose Bakery. And cost me about £2.
So I found myself doing that thing again where I weigh up what I need, what I want what I've got. I often use that adage of 'Is this the last time you will ever be able to eat a pudding, is this the last time you will ever be able to buy this?' It comes down to a rarity. Things gain more value if they are really obscure and unavailable. It's almost the opposite of collecting. Collecting is gathering stuff you know you will be able to buy more of, almost the same, ever so slightly different. But still I guess unique and one off. Rarity equals value and a decision made. I still regret not buying the perfect harlequin tea/cake set from that weird craft centre. I'm, sure another would exist, it didn't feel too exclusive and one-off, but I've not yet been in a position to buy one, wrong places at wrong times.
Objects tie you down. If they are the wrong ones. I want to boil mine down to concentration. But yet I still seem to be front-loading this concept.