Rose & Lee Vintage : The Pickled Ginger

When I visited Cuckoo in Prestwich, I mentioned a friend who was setting up shop nearby.

That was a little bit of a twisted truth. Not nearby. Next door.

Fiona of Rose & Lee Vintage Living was taking some of her stock away from the showroom to a new venue, a new home, where it could be seen in a cosier environment. Something on the high street, that could be seen regularly, rather than people making an appointment to head out to the showroom. Those intrigued, interested, could pop in during normal shopping hours, look at furniture and furnishings, items from local creatives, as well as the regular toiletry and candles usually stocked at the showroom and sold at vintage fairs.

Even three weeks ago, when I saw the space and heard Fiona’s ideas, I could see it so vividly in my head and when she mentioned the local traders she wanted to stock, I was excited. This was perfect.

But when I stopped by for the opening on Sunday, I was still in awe of what had been done.

Damn this lady is good.

We were greeted with beautiful cakes from local baker Brooke’s Cupcakes, with a bespoke Rose & Lee logo and a cheeky little glass of Prosecco.

It was then that an elegant lady with cropped blonde hair saw me and exclaimed ‘Oh! You’re the lady on the bed!’.

I must admit, I was a little nonplussed, but she elaborated ‘We have a print for you in the car’.

Ah, context. Putting two and two together, I realised I had met Sue, the other half of the lovely Nigel Maitland, who I then spotted in the corner. It was then I spotted myself. On the wall.

Fiona had neglected to mention that bit.

Sneaky.

Taking a bigger swig of Prosecco, I distracted myself by looking at the pretty things for sale. I spotted my favourite chair from the showroom had made it’s way over.

I want to sit in it, dressed a la Joan Holloway and sit in front of a typewriter. Thinking on it, I do have a 1960s portable typewriter that belonged to my mum….. Hmmm.

It was difficult to decide where to cast my attention. It’s all too easy to get distracted. With cards from the lovely Suzy at Paper Fudge on one side with a display cake from Brooke’s Cupcakes, and on the other a gorgeous vintage Singer sewing machine and a delightful peach and gilt chair.

Then there was glassware, from jelly moulds to cut glass sherry glasses, dainty little bottles, all begging to be filled.

As I sipped and ogled, I watched others selecting items and heading to the cash desk. Pictures and boards, candles and cards, lots of the toiletries and soaps were being snaffled. As I watched one couple check the price tag of the Chesterfield sofa in the middle of the room, I heard a rumour that the armchair in the window had been snapped up.

I felt like a child in a sweet shop. A sticky fingered one when I was encouraged by Fiona to take some sample wax melts to try. I’m not sure you can call it shoplifting when you have permission though… Or when the owner gives you another bag full…

It was while dragging myself away from these and trying very hard not to look guilty that I spotted the Mancsy on the wall, with her suitably bee-themed 60s dress, hanging above the work of the Manchester Bee Company.

I have coveted one of these mugs (and to be honest a Mancsy print) for a very long time, but certainly mug wise, I’m on a ban. As the shelf is so overflowing that he’s only recently been able to bring out his Peter Kaye mug (that I bought him 18 months ago) into service after one of my mugs broke, I suspect it may be some time before I’m allowed to buy one. And that’s without telling him about the small collection at work.

Is there a mug-collectors’ anonymous I can check myself into? I seem to have developed a problem.

Before I could give into temptation, I distracted myself swiftly with the Liberty print stationery. You can never have too many notebooks right? They’re not like mugs, you use them up.

If you’re anything like me, and the tipsier you get at a tasting, the more lines are irrelevant and drawings and asterisks denoting awesomeness are more important, then you’re constantly running out of books to scribble in.