Bazaars (and Balls) make up a large part of the expat circuit over here. They are usually put on by the the various international woman's associations based here and take place in the big hotels. I miss most of the bazaars because of work (they are always during the day) but sure did make up for it on a day off last week. It was run by the fun ladies of BlueSalt in a private home where I came across the most beautiful bounty of little clutch bags. Due to the fact my brain lacks an edit switch, (and the fact that they were in an off-cast bin at ridiculously low prices) I spent the entire time hunched over and rummaging trying to pick my favorites. They all were. I walked away with more than I personally needed but justified it as a gift stockpiling exercise, as well as engaging in some therapeutic simulation op-shopping, which I really miss. I grew up thrifting and op-shopping with my father at charity stores, auctions, fetes, fairs and garage sales most weekends (he collects first edition Australiana books and sells some of it here). Years later I began to understand the thrill and reward of discovering something beautiful and precious underneath a pile of junk, or right up the back of a shop, or at the bottom of a box, where no one else had looked. It's a magical process when it works.
via here - a great americana art resource
These beautiful clutches (apologies of styling these within an inch of their lives) are recycled from billboard material here in Jakarta and are made by Dyrt. They are extremely sturdy, as you can imagine a billboard must be to weather the elements, but have such a lovely delicate, faded look. I love the muted tones and the way they slightly crease like paper. Put your order in! When I look at billboards now, the colour possibilities seem endless.
Helen Frankenthaler, Flood, 1967 image via here
wearable and painterly. Serendipity.