It has finally happened. It was only a matter of time really. I think you all saw it coming. I have finally gone stark, raving bonkers. I've flipped my lid.
I have been too impressionable. I've succumbed to peer pressure. I got carried away in the moment.
Yes, I have bid and won an insanely large amount of old lady pomanders from ebay. 186 of the blighters to be precise.
I was caught up in the notion that there is a pomander revolution on the horizon. Old lady chic is coming into vogue and I wanted a piece of the action. Here was my chance to get ahead of the game and make my fortune. I could see the headlines:
"The sweet smell of success"; "Thrifter comes up smelling of roses"; "Sniffing out a bargain"...
Before you condemn me to an asylum full of crazy online auction purchasers, consider this. And then tell me who is the more affected...
The lady who owned these aromatic fancies displayed them by cementing them onto her bathroom wall. All 186 of them. In fact, I suspect there were more and some were lost in the arduous removal process.
I can only imagine the odious odours that must have been emitted in that water closet which required an entire wall of pot pourri to keep it at bay.
Like a scene from Se7en, without the aesthetic appeal of Mr Pitt. What was she thinking?
Consider this. The offspring of the late owner decided to list the collection for sale on ebay. They apparently didn't feel in necessary to describe how the ceramic nosegays had been plastered onto the masonry. Clearly, it wasn't required of them to explain that all of these pomanders were caked in white plaster and gloss paint from their vertical suspension for years on end on in their late mothers toilette.
Consider this. My obliging and trusting old man, left in charge of collecting the perfumed bounty whilst I was away, thought not to question the encrusted ceramic globes. Quietly he handed over the cash and loaded them up in the car, delivering the bouquet of bounty to me.
So. Who is the crazy one?
However, all is not lost. I intend to turn this tale of woe around. I have discovered that soaking the sullied spheres in hot water for hours on end, then painstakingly scraping the paint and plaster off does eventually result in a restored pomander. Granted, they will be bereft of their contents and missing their labels, but they are again usable.
So begins the arduous task of disemboweling them, picking out the stale and musty brown rose petals, and destroying my finger nails.
It will be worth it. There are some beauties. Truly, there is a pomander for every occasion and taste. From the kitsch:
To the quintessentially English.
Depicting dog roses, primroses and violets
or retro floral delights
From the sublime
to the ridiculous.
If I have in any way tempted you with my nose candy, please do speak now. I can assemble a small collection to meet your requirements, and on transfer of cash by the magic of paypal, I shall wrap, pack and mail the beauties to you.
Grab my button
and link to my blog