On built-in obsolescence and the joys of vintage

So, there I was, having a brief break from it all in the Chilterns, iBook open, all ready to jump back into regular blogging, when something went wrong. Something horrible and technical, which meant that my beloved iBook, which has been half way round the world and back with me, might not work again. After a bit of deep breathing and giving myself a good talking to ('calm down, dear, it's only a laptop . . . '), I decided to use my oldie's bus pass and take the scenic route from where I was staying to, er, Reading. As you do on a Bank Holiday weekend.

Because Reading has an Apple Store and where there's an Apple Store, there's a Genius Bar. And I apologise to those of you who have PCs rather than Macs because this will mean not very much to you. Suffice it to say that the cool young things at the Genius Bar will tell you, among other things,  a) what's wrong with your Apple whatever and b) whether Apple can repair it or not. I think you already know what's coming. My iBook must be all of five or six years old so, no, Apple doesn't stock the required part any longer and cannot repair my writing companion.

It's not that we're joined at the hip, or anything like that, but I was a little sad. The sky was the colour of lead and the weather cold, windy and wet as I waited for the return bus to arrive and thought of all the places we'd visited together and the fun we'd had and the thousands of words I had pounded out on the keyboard. That's my iBook up on the right-hand typebar, doing its stuff in sub-tropical Kerala. Sigh . . . 

All is not yet lost and there is always the possibility of tracking down a relacement part somewhere and the asking my Apple guru to see if he can fix it. But still, five or six years do not exactly warrant a long-service medal, do they?

The iBook disaster came in the same week as the dishwasher at home ground to a halt and a CD - it was, natch, a library CD and not one of mine - got jammed in the (wrong slot) of the radio/CD player of my trusty old Subaru, the day before it was due back. (It was disc two of Jonathan Safran Foer's Eating Animals, as it happens.) The nice man at the Subaru garage said he would sort it out, which he did, and when I went to collect the car, he produced not one but two jammed CDs, one of which bore the grime of years.

'How we laughed,' he chortled.

I looked at the CD.

'Not mine,' I said, feeling affronted. 'Do I look like the sort of woman who would have a cheapo cover version of big band ballads? Must have been the previous owners.'

In which case, it has been stuck where it shouldn't be for oh, about 10 years. The previous owner bore an impressive and historic title and was a Deputy Lieutenant, so über posh, but with surprisingly naff musical tastes. 

The dishwasher was fixed too, thanks to a local family firm of electricians who come out at short notice, put things right in a tick, and do not charge an arm and a leg. I know, a vanishing breed.

Thank goodness, however, for our continuing - and growing - love affair with vintage fashion and secondhand pre-loved clothes, which has made increasing sense in these cash-poor and eco-conscious times and which continues to give many a fine garment a new lease of life (unlike my poor old iBook). I've written in the past about my Biba and Bus Stop 1960s clothes bonanza but, despite all those amazing - and affordable - new clothes, my girlfriends and I often added vintage accesories from markets like Portobello Road. It worked especially well with Lee Bender's Bus Stop designs, with their echoes of 1940s styling.

If, like me you still have a passion for fashion but a very tight budget, it's a great way to give a shrinking wardrobe a lift. My Dear Old School Friend, who is tall and slender and always looks a million dollars, never buys new and can work a charity shop dress rail like no-one else I know. As her daughter-in-law remarked, 'Who else could spot an Amanda Wakely number going for a snip in an Ilfracombe charity shop?' Amanda Wakely? Ilfracombe? Who'd have thought?

Anyway, I've been watching the way she works and I think I've picked up a tip or two. This summer, I bought a stylish little black shirt by Nicole Farhi, two Oska linen jackets and two designer-label white linen tops, for the total sum of £22, courtesy of charity shops in Devon and Somerset. And while I was staying in the Chilterns, I trotted along to one of the nearest town's four charity shops - ostensibly in search of a book or three. But this is celebrity land and these shops are positively heaving with brand new designer clothes, bought on a whim and never worn. So, instead of books, I came out with a thing of rare beauty: a Diane Von Furstenberg two-layered skirt in immaculate condition - cotton underskirt with a patterned and hand-beaded silk overskirt. Cost? Embarrassingly cheap at just £5. Now I just need the right party to come along so I can wear it to dance the night away - but the design is timeless, so I'll get years of wear out of it. In the meantime, I'm going to hang it up where I can look at it and admire all the work that went into designing and making something so very lovely. 

If only iBooks worked the same way.

(This post is brought to you courtesy of my Big Mac, which is also five years old . . . )

Comments

[Friend In New Zealand]

Wish I had been there to shop with you!!

[materfamilias]

My sincere condolences on your recent loss. Pleased to see that you're finding some solace in vintage shops.. .

[Shelley]

I obviously hang out at the wrong charity shops...or perhaps living near Newcastle is the problem. Sorry to hear about the loss of the computer. If losing the old wasn't bad enough, I found learning the new version of Microsoft v. annoying in the middle of tax time. Still, I should be grateful I could afford to replace the computer (a PC; Macs are just too cool - and too expensive - for me).

[Bob]

Charity shops? Only way to go for this male. Obviously for blokes not everything designer and I would not wear anyway (person not a advertising hoarding) but in last couple of years have acquired among many items a very nice Jaegar blazer for £5 - and the nice people at Jaegar even sent me a couple of buttons for free when one of mine was lost. Ties from T M Lewin for a £1, the list goes on.
Pity about the iBook but perhaps time to get a tablet (iPad)as this is to be the industry standard I understand. Can do 90% of what a laptop can whilst a laptop can only 50% of what a tablet can.

[60 Going On 16]

Hello dear FiNZ: as we discovered when you were here in July, we make a great team of vintage sleuths (by which I do not mean that we are ancient . . .)

Materfamilias: it seems that all is not yet lost with the iBook; a bit of creative recycling is about to take place.

Shelley: there is a definite hierarchy of desirability in the charity shops near here and in many places - the most generously supported seem to be those with local connections (local air ambulance, local hospice etc). They seem to offer the best choice - and not just for clothes. As for iBooks, I've never bought a new one, always secondhand via designer colleagues upgrading or, the last time round, on eBay. It was an absolute bargain at the time, has served me very well and, if the recycled part works, it will rise like a phoenix from the ashes.

Bob: give that man a round of applause. I am delighted to hear that you also embrace the cause. Most impressed by Jaeger sending you the buttons. As for tablets/iPads - they're not necessarily a first choice for writers. My son-in-law is a big fan but he's an IT guru, not a writer; he says that, ideally, I would have to add a keyboard, which rather defeats the object. I can see the fun that can be had on a iPad (it's hard to prise him away from his) but, if I'm honest, everything I need is available on a laptop. Not ruling one out altogether though - but it will have to be preloved!

[Dancing Beastie]

What an entertaining account of bargain hunting. I must admit I am a little envious of the quality of charity shops in the south of England. Here they have rails and rails of navy polyester slacks and fusty old beige anoraks! Clearly we need a few more slebs to move in...

Yet more random coincidences made me smile: not only RTR and Gudrun, but also a shared love of MacBooks and Subarus. I know I'd be bereft by the loss of my MacBook, so send you deepest sympathy!

[60 Going On 16]

Dear Dancing Beastie: I can appreciate that you would like less of the navy blue and beige but an influx of slebs might be too high a price to pay. And, ah those coincidences (I was doing a bit of reading up on the RTR just the other day) but I didn't know that you were a Subaru woman as well. I always think that they are the cars that most closely resemble a tank, especially the Forester, which is what I drive. Perhaps that's why I feel so safe in one, for reasons that you will understand.

[marilyn]

Desperately trying to make contact and finally found somewhere to post you a message I hope you find this as I have previously sent an email which ofcourse bounced back. All my news boinging around the stratosphere. I am away to Nepal on Sunday and wanted to say so sorry I missed your birthday yet again and send me an email address asap, as I am naff at finding where and how to respond to blogposts, its in the lap of the gods if I find my own! I will see you speak to you after the momentous journey and hopefully we will post some of our pics on flickr or possibly facebook. lots of love marilyn