Antique tea cups, and yellowed love notes hand written in ink. And I've always been especially sweet on the era that was
The Roaring 20’s.
It was a remarkable time; the First World War was over and the economy was thriving. The country was in the mood for a
great celebration, and celebrate they did.
The striking beauty of Art Deco design began to appear in architecture, jewelry, and home decor. In the big city’s, people dressed to impress.
(I refuse to accept that I am alone in my eternal love for velvet.)
Prohibition was in effect throughout the decade. Did it stop people from drinking?
Hell, no. But it did make them more resourceful, their parties and cocktails all the more secretive and seductive.
Women won the right to vote, and the new 'Flapper Girl' rejected earlier puritan fashions and morals that had been popular for a very long time.
We remember these fearless heroines, who challenged the social norms. They reinvented themselves in new, daring ways and began the movement towards bolder self-expression. These brave ones, that finished with all the best stories to tell.
Here's to saying yes and breaking some rules. To being just a little bit bad-ass.
Here's to celebrating all the art, spirit & beauty that came out of that brief, gilded decade in time.
I had watched my own mother make soup from a bone, but making soap at home? That sounded like some magic.
But Anna was an independent young woman. When she went to work, she started collecting her own factory-made soaps.
I remember seeing them, lined up neatly on her polished bedroom dresser. Something about this simple prize, encased in a pretty package, drew me in every time.
Like Bobbi, my own mother was a skilled Maker. She needled intricately detailed quilts, crocheted countless afghans, and sewed many of our school clothes. There were four of us, so our dining room table was perpetually draped in the brown tissue paper of a McCall's or Butterick pattern.
In 2003, my own compulsion to work with my hands overruled. I left a clerical job in medicine to become a Licensed Massage therapist.
For better than twelve years, I touched a lot of skin everyday, and I had always been interested in its care.
I researched for four months before mixing my first small batch, and learned the craft (along with the gift of patience) through years of trial and error.
I make soap in the traditional cold-process method and cure it for a full month. Unlike my great-grandmothers lard soap, my own soap is made with a large portion of olive oil, and formulated to be mild. My carefully developed recipe is a palm-oil free, triple-butter formula that will leave your skin clean and softly conditioned.
I credit my grandmother with many things in my life that I'm still passionate about today.
Not only did she live through the 1920's, but she survived the subsequent Great Depression. In doing so, I think she inadvertently gifted both my mom and me, with The Love of Thrift. Today, I'd still choose a tiny vintage shop or antique store over the mall.
The Gilded Gazette
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