I really like pretty things. I can't help it. I love decorative objects and I don't understand beige. I have a weakness for bold colour and fancy ornamentation and I can't bear to see a naked wall or a sticky-outy thing without something delightfully whimsical hanging off it purely because there's a place for it to be hung. Pretty things make life worth living.

But then I also like practicality. What is the POINT of creating an object which doesn't do what it's supposed to do? It offends my common sensibilities. I wish to own items which actually fulfill their purpose rather than ones which shakily attempt to do so before collapsing under the strain because then you have to go and buy them again and spend twice as much as you intended to in the first place and that's just false economy, people.

So if an item works, why can't it look the part? And if it's visually appealing, must it lose some essential component of functionality along the way?

This blog intends to track down the holy grail of useful, defiantly non-ugly objects for people who just want a bit of glamour in their day-to-day lives. No gadgets, no boys' toys; this is going to be unashamedly girly but purposefully so. Think of it as steel wrapped in feathers. Pretty feathers. Which actually work.

Thursday 21 July 2011

Umbrellas

Once upon a time I had boring brollies. That was before the hallowed Christmas for which I was given a beautiful pink pointy flower-adorned walking umbrella and I suddenly found myself praying for rain.

Imagine that! I actively hoped for the nimbus clouds to come rolling on in. Talk about bonkers. But then that's just how happy this umbrella made me feel. When the heavens finally opened I skipped merrily down the street, delighted that I was able to use this paragon of prettiness to the purpose for which it was designed.

Then one evening I took it to Shoreditch House and I left it behind. That was a sad day.

After a suitable period of mourning, I decided that it was time to seek out a suitable replacement. It had to be entirely worthy of its predecessor and I came equipped with criteria: I wanted a walker, it needed to work with both my purple winter coat and red mac, it should be as large as feasibly possible and not have one of those frames which buckle and flop at the slightest hind of wind. Plus, of course, it had to look fabulous.

After searching the far corners of the web and checking new arrivals on eBay daily, I stumbled across the mecca that is Bombay Duck. (I suspect that this online treasure trove will make a regular appearance on these pages). From a selection of truly stunning brollies, I selected this particular gem:


This umbrella brings me compliments from strangers in the street, not only when it's raining but even just hanging on my arm. It is that little bit larger than most umbrellas so it keeps my arms and bag dry, plus its exaggerated curvature means that it both protects my hair from buffeting winds and resists turning inside-out. The pom-poms suggest flimsiness but they bely the sturdiness of the frame; it withstands my daily commute into central London and has survived both torrential rain and blizzards, all whilst looking deceptively like a parasol. I love it so much that when I accidentally left it hanging on a wall after my birthday party earlier this year, I promptly bought another one.

I learnt two things from this episode.

1) Always do your research. Don't just buy a generic umbrella from Boots because it's there. A little bit of research shows that something covering all bases will be available, even if you have to take the time to find it.

2) Don't take your favourite umbrella to your birthday party, drink copious numbers of cocktails and catch the night-bus home.

View the beautiful brolly in its full glory at Bombay Duck . . . but buy it for a couple of quid cheaper at Brollies Galore.


This is me, with my brolly. I'm at London Zoo. Facepainting for grown-ups is coming back, you mark my words.

4 comments:

  1. You are so fantastic. This should be a daily column in the newspaper. Mazel tov!

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  2. I've tried to post this comment about ten times now but I'll try one more time...

    You've summed up the whole reason why I couldn't own a big, beautiful umbrella like yours - I'd just leave it in a bar the first time I used it (or possibly somewhere less glamorous, like on the bus). I've lost so many umbrellas that way and unless it's tiny and folded up and in my handbag then I WILL forget it. Yours is lovely, though - any chance they make a mini one?

    Great idea for a blog, by the way. I like the voting buttons at the bottom of the post, they're a very nice touch!

    I first typed in prettypractical instead of prettybutpractical and found the blog of an interior designer with a similar outlook to yours - perhaps you can collaborate in the future!

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  3. Thanks so much Sharon, that's really sweet!

    And Alex, it is definitely true that the larger the umbrella, the more likely you are to leave it in unfortunate places . . . but equally, I abandoned the dearly-departed pink one all over London and (apart from on the final Shoreditch House occasion), was reunited every time. This included the occasion when I left it hanging on the counter in the Charing Cross branch of Clinton Cards and they looked after it for the whole weekend until I was able to return and collect it the following Monday.

    The great news, though, is that you can actually buy those umbrellas in handbag-sized format here although if you're going to go for a minature brolly, I personally think that this one is more effective in its rolled-up form.

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  4. I too tried a comment a couple of times, so I am tryng again. Enjoyed your blog Robyn, I've enjoyed your writing since your China trip. Keep up the good work.

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