Friday, 8 April 2011

Playing at Post Offices

Right at the beginning of this blog I said "I'm not Etsying or Folksying". Well, that's now only half true. In a U-turn that I would compare to something to do with politics if I knew anything about politics or could be bothered to think of an example, I have given in to the capitalist machine and started to put my wares up for sale.

This partly came from the fact that, as mentioned in my earlier post, I can't stop buying pretty fabrics and making stuff from them. After a while, this becomes unsustainable. That's just maths. Having had some nice feedback from a few friends who have received items of mine as gifts, I was finally convinced that maybe I could try and recoup some of my outlay by garnering a few pennies from the paying public.

Also, I've always wanted my own shop. Like Emily in Bagpuss. Damn I hated that smug little bint. How did she even get a shop? How was she paying the business rates? What, if anything, did she ever sell? I digress.

Actually, there was a time before I wanted my own shop. When I was very little my mum had a friend who worked in Debenhams and I thought that was the most impossibly glamorous thing in the world. Debenhams smelled of perfume and the leather from new handbags, and everyone had to wear a silk scarf as part of their uniform and use tills with an immense and unfathomable amount of buttons that were incomprehensibly exciting to a small proto-nerd like me. When I grew up, I wanted to work in Debenhams.

A thing. From my shop. Maybe someone will buy the thing.
Sadly Debenhams isn't like Grace Brothers any more and the excitement of the till system has waned, but I still have a deep-rooted sense of unfulfilment that I never got my own shop. I want a tea-and-gift shop, where I would sell all sorts of wonderful kitschy things and serve tea from real china and have book clubs on Thursday afternoons and go next door to the bookshop every day for long liquid lunches with my friends Bernard and Manny and develop a new laugh with a turn and I'd be a summer girl.

But since apparently I can't live in an episode of Black Books I'm doing the next best thing for now.

Because I am an expert in digital marketing and computermabobs, I have managed to get a clicky box thing on the right of this page to link to my little shop.

It's called 'Lemur Lady's Awesome Emporium'. Because I like things that are awesome and I also like saying the word 'Emporium'. That's the sort of sound business judgement that will make my tea shop a success. One day.


  1. I started selling for the same reason, it just gave me an excuse to keep buying more and more lovely yummy supplies to work with!

  2. I dream of having my own shop one day too ... the manner of shop has changed a few times but as long as it sells awesome things & I can tell annoying customers to f off without fearing the wrath of a head office I'd be happy ...

  3. But the shop must either close all day on Wednesdays or only open until lunch time. ns.

  4. I agree with Vera, unless you want to go Suffolk and change the Wednesday to Thursday.


  5. i was just stalking through my google analytics and saw "knitting my own yoghurt". i was all "wtf? srsly??!!" (<-- i even pronounce it like that)
    so i came over here... and it was YOU!
    and your blog has made me *snork*.

    in true crazy internet person style, i am now going to get a cup of tea and then read everything you've ever written.

  6. Oh god, now I'm going to have to write some more! PRESSURE!! (Glad you like reading the things that fall out of my head though) x

  7. I'm loving reading your blog too. It's funny how a lot of us have a similar mission in life with our creativity. I often picture myself in my (real in my head) Folksy shop, wearing a long brown overall like Arkwright in Open All Hours. Sometimes I even practise the stammer, but don't tell anyone, OK?

  8. Hehe, glad I found your blog (via Folksy) - I like your writing syle! As you can see I also love the word 'Emporium' - just gotta have one of those! When you get your tea & gift shop can my daughter come and work in it? She will float about being some kind of Japanese-anime-Victorian thing and makes nice cakes.
    ~Jane :o)

  9. She sounds perfect, she can definitely have a job in my imaginary tea shop :D