Gorgeous vintage finds, described with adoration and photographed up-close by English fashion copywriter Angela Montague. This blog fuses my day job as a fashion copywriter with my two obsessions: beautiful old things and photography.

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My Great Grandmother's Pickled Onion Recipe

To the world she was Katherine Williams. To the Welsh mountain village where she lived, she was Mrs Williams a Popty (that is, Mrs Williams of the Bake House; her home was once the village bakery). To my mum she was Nanan. She was my great grandmother. For this post I will share with you her recipe for pickled onions - a vintage recipe that dates back to the 1930s and has not been written down before. It’s a tradition in my family to make these onions in November, just in time for Christmas. So get your skates on. It's delightfully basic. It produces onions of intense flavour with a loud crunch. They’ll be ready in six weeks, and can be enjoyed for the next 12 months. A word of warning. When you are making them, your kitchen, and possibly most of your house, will make your eyes water. You will need 1 - Glass storage jars, the Kilner type are best. My family tends to use 2 litre ones. They should be clean and sterilised. 2 - A bag of "Oni

The 1960s Bundeswehr (West German) Greatcoat

Fashion and the military look: it’s a permanent fling. Classic lines, authenticity, distinctiveness, the whiff of romance… and let’s not forget function. These clothes keep their promises. Swoon. Hidden in the inside pocket, this coat’s fabulously utilitarian label indicates it’s West German, 1960s. My good friend and German to English translator Adam Ramsey tells me " Altenkessel – Saar" is the location of the manufacturer “Werner Mahlberg”. I picked it up at my local Oxfam shop for £5 (in international currency, the price of two Starbucks lattes). Yes, I am rather smug about that. I have spent some time imagining a colourful history for it, but I suspect it was army-surplus. Un-issued. No derring-do has been done. In soft grey wool with a full satin lining, it’s tapered at the waist and surprisingly small. Eye-catching on a boy but jaw-dropping on a girl, especially one with an hourglass figure and pepper-red lipstick.

The Joyce Mercer 1930s Vintage Children's Illustrations

I feel I should just take a bow and shuffle back stage, letting you look at these illustrations without the distraction of words. But I am a writer, so I'll dilly-dally a little longer. Commissioned for The Big Christmas Wonder Book (1937) these incredibly stylised children’s illustrations by British artist Joyce Mercer (1896–1965) demand to be stared at, whether you’re a 1930s child sinking into your pillow, or a 21st century vintage lover revelling in the elegance of a lost decade. Hard black lines give the precision of stained glass, whilst the abundance of perfectly executed curls give the satisfaction of fine calligraphy. I wonder what the artist's handwriting was like? Look at them from a distance, or upside down, and the balance and poise of the whole composition comes to the fore, letting you enjoy them all over again. Encapsulating the character of the period and dramatically telling a

1950s Ronson Cadet Mini Cigarette Lighter

Dainty, ain't it? The 1950s Ronson Cadet Mini Purse Cigarette Lighter As feminine as it gets, this tiny chrome lighter sits pretty at the crossroads between glamour and gadget. Embossed with twirling leaves and vines, deliciously tactile to bare fingers, you may overlook the pattern's very practical purpose: it's easy to grip in white gloves. And those leaves go everywhere, embossing the whole case as it gently curves to a slender edge. Among hourglass figures, sweetheart necklines and frothy lace petticoats, this shining accessory knew how to ... accessorise. Ronson patented the mechanism that lets these lighters be operated with one hand. In a piece of genuine vintage copywriting, they marketed this feature with the line: "A flip - and it's lit! Release - and it's out!". Ronson also did things differently by designing lighters for women. Tiny. Delicate. Sparkly. What girl wants to fumble with matches and snag

The Dorothy Ann China Rose Brooch

Dorothy Ann Bone China Brooch Should it be the classic red rose? I don't think so. Petals with buttermilk highs and saffron lows are a much smarter buy. You can don jade green, damson purple, crimson red, royal blue or the soft caramels of Autumn’s essential camel coat: this golden beauty will flourish on every lapel. The details on the back? Dorothy Ann. China. Made in England. Dorothy Ann | CHINA | MADE IN ENGLAND In 1954, the Dorothy Ann pottery was listed in Stoke. After that I believe the name became part of Crown Devon. Was Dorothy a real person? A 50s glamour puss? Dot with a penchant for polka dot? Or is this a brand name created by a copywriter (damn those copywriters)? Google is not my friend on this point. However, I do know that this is the most quintessentially vintage piece I own. Oh yes, it’s mine. Found in a charity shop a few weeks ago for £1 (in international currency: less than a Starbucks espresso). It emerged from a glass cabinet with its petal

The Late Victorian Whitby Jet Bangle... or is it?

Whitby Jet Bangle? Look at this! Isn't it gorgeous? My great grandmother, Elsie May, left this bracelet in her button box, in pieces. My mother inherited the box, picked out the pieces and threaded them on knicker elastic to make the lovely whole you see here. It fits snug on your wrist for an authentic dash of Victorian Gothic Whitby Jetness. Just the thing when you're evoking Mina Harker. Elsie May and her husband Charlie, perhaps she's wearing the bangle here Elsie was a young woman in the 1900s, so I think it's safe to say her bangle is late Victorian. But is it real Whitby Jet? If it is, it would be worth a small fortune. I've researched a lot, I've found a lot. What follows are the highlights of that research and my take on... How to Identify Whitby Jet "Like Whitby Jet But Not" comes in many forms: modern plastic, glass (known as French Jet), bog oak, coal, Bakelite, horn or Vulcanite, from the planet Vulcan. OK I

The World War I Embroidered Silk Postcards

Embroidered by hand, silk thread on silk organza, these vivid cards whizzed across Europe to the loved and the missed during World War I. Stitched at home by French and Belgium women, they were created as a batch on one silk strip, then sent to a factory for cutting and framing. Look closely: many are actually envelopes. Inside them, another envelope; a translucent, onion-skin one. Inside that, a tiny printed card to write on, coloured by hand. To the sender it's about wrapping your message again and again in something bright, pretty and precious. To the recipient it’s about glimpses of what's within; the handwriting you’re aching to see. Propped on a mantelpiece or bedside table, most of these cards became sun-faded, yellowed with nicotine, torn and discarded. Fortunately this collection was kept in an album so those silk dyes hold true. I find the past much more tangible when you see things as they did.

The 1950s 'Shiny Brite' Christmas Baubles

These are original 1950s Christmas tree baubles, painted and by hand, over razor thin glass, with lashings of glitter. It’s a miracle they’ve made it to Christmas 2010. When I saw them a few years ago at an antique market I snapped them up for myself and my mother, because my Grandmother’s tree was full of these things, but the originals have been lost. As a child, I vividly remember poking my finger into each gleaming indent as Perry Como sang There’s No Place Like Home for the Holidays . Magically, another finger poked back. I bought three boxes of vintage baubles from that antique market. On the top of each box someone had kindly written “best”, “2nd best” and “3rd best” Of course, mum got the best. Aren’t they fab-u-lous? Invitation to Comment Tell me about your special ornaments, the oldest ones on the tree, or the hand made ones you cherish. What’s your earliest Christmas memory? Don't miss the next post

The "Steampunk" Victorian Wedding Dress

satin Victorian wedding dress from 1878 When Emily Kitchin married Mr Arthur Turner Waite in September 1878, she wore this dress. They took their vows at St Mary’s Church, Scarborough. The dress is cream satin; a very expensive bridal gown. The fitted bodice has no buttons at the back. There are long princess seams, a tailoring technique just introduced by Charles Frederick Worth . And that's all I know. The rest of this post? Guesswork. It must fasten at the front, like a coat. And it's not one dress, but two. Most of what you see is the satin over-dress, but those ruffles and pleats are another garment entirely, an under-dress. Two layers gloriously entwined in a notched hem. Like a cog wheel, this is the detail to note: are we looking at a Victorian bridal gown here, or a steampunk costume? Repeated on every edge and in miniature at the cuffs, these notches reveal the accordion pleats and lacy cuffs beneath. It’s not clear

Vintage Gallery #9 The Steampunk Costumes

Incredible Steampunk Costume as seen at The Asylum festival I must admit I do love a bit of Steampunk. These phantasmagorical costumes were photographed at The Asylum festival in my hometown of Lincoln (UK) this September. Alas, I did not take the image so do not know the names of the people, but anyone out there does please get in touch. I'd like to give credit where credit is due. Do you know these people? If so please get in touch! If you're not sure what Steampunk is, I am tempted to say Google is your friend. But in this case I'll say the library is your friend, specifically the shelves holding these works: Jules Verne - Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea H G Wellls - The Time Machine Mark Twain - A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court Mervyn Peake - Titus Alone Philip Pullman - The Dark Materials Trilogy If you already love the look, you might want to see an original piece of steampunk fashion in my other post The Steampu

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