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Antique Ivory Straight Razor

All things come to those who wait…in this case, I’ve waited about five years!

This lovely antique straight razor was mine for just a few bucks at the local flea-market last month. It’s from about 1880, and boasts original ivory scales!

I’ve always wanted a razor with ivory scales. They’re slim, cool and beautiful, and they have a lightness in the hand that celluloid doesn’t have. Plus, there’s the history factor behind it.

This particular razor was retailed by a barber in Colac, country Victoria back in about 1885, which is about the time I date this one, based on newspaper advertisements I’ve found. It was manufactured in Germany and shipped to Australia. The blade is carbon steel and is full-hollow in the grind. An excellent shaver and a wonderful addition to my collection.

Is it special? Not particularly. There must be thousands of antique ivory razors out there, but it is nice to finally have my own little piece which I can use and appreciate.

 
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Back from the Dead: The Rise of the Indian Star!

The Indian Star! It sounds so regal. Like some great diamond hacked out of the dusty earth of the Subcontinent, back in the days of the Imperial Raj, which became the object of desire sought after by thieves and bandits and which played a key role in some dastardly Sherlock Holmes adventure!

Ahem.

THIS is the Indian Star:


It comes from this rather battered-looking Singer 15 sewing machine. My latest sewing-machine purchase:


At just $30 at the local flea-market, this thing was in a SORRY state when I got it. This is what the machine looked like after several hours of hard scrubbing and scouring to remove 70 years’ worth of grime!

That’s right. This machine dates all the way back to 1945! And for a machine that was missing its whole front panel, it was in pretty decent shape, apart from needing a damn good clean and a bit of rebuilding work. It came with its lid as well. Once I get the time I’ll rebuild the front panel and put in a new base for it (the base is absolutely dead), to keep this thing in one piece. It’s barely holding on as it is.

I replaced one hinge, the slide-plate and fixed a few other things, mostly by sanding or scrubbing off rust and grime.

This Singer is a ‘full-size’ machine. That means that it could fit into a treadle-base if I wanted it to. It’s an absolute beast and weighs a ton! It’s hard to believe that something like this (which weighs about 35lbs!) was ever considered “portable” back in the 1940s!!

Will be posting updates as this progresses…

 
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Two-in-One is Much More Fun! Sterling Silver Slide-Action Pencil-Pen Combo.

Sometimes you find the most unassuming things when you go into antiques shops.

While out recently I discovered a new place, and I just had to go in and have a look around. Inside a cabinet of odds and ends – chains and pens and knives and nick-nacks, I found this:

I was umming-and-aahhing over it, checking it out, admiring the beautiful engraving, when I noticed a panel on it which read: “S. Mordan & Co”.

Be still, my beating heart.

As you may recall from my last post on a similar find, the name S. Mordan (that’s Sampson Mordan) is pretty big in the history of both silver, and writing instruments!

I was so thunderstruck to find another item made by such a famous company, and within a year of finding the last one! And it was half the price of the previous purchase. The shopkeeper was generous and chipped the price down a bit more, and I trotted out the door with an 1874 sterling silver slide-action pen-pencil combination!

Granted, not in perfect condition (hey it’s 140 years old, give it a break!), but all the major components functioned, and that’s all I cared about!

It is hallmarked [SM] (Sampson Mordan), sterling silver (Lion Passant) for London (Leopard’s Head), in 1874 (t) and had the duty mark stamped on it of Queen Victoria (Monarch’s Head).

So what is this thing?

Well, it’s got two slides on it, with two slide-knobs sticking out the side of the barrel. Pushing one slide-knob draws out the pencil:


And pushing the other slide-knob draws out the pen:

This being 1874, what we have here is a dip-pen, not a fountain pen. The pen-point could be removed if it wore out or was damaged, and a new nib would replace it.

Of course, you could draw out the pen and pencil together…

Although you wouldn’t be able to do much writing with it!

It’s a mark of the quality of Mordan silver that this piece was purchased as a Christmas present, which I think is incredibly sweet. I know this because it’s been engraved on the cartouche:

It says: “F.E. EASTEN. Christmas, 1874”

I haven’t managed to find out who Mr. or Mrs. or Miss Easten was (although I assume this was bought for a guy), but obviously, someone thought enough of them to buy what was surely not a cheap present back in the 1870s!

Once I got it home, I ran it through the ultrasonic cleaner with hot water and soap, and just watched all the gunk and grease and grime inside this thing come oozing out like oil! You wouldn’t think something so tiny (about 3.5in. long, closed up) would expel so much gunk when it was washed, but the water was the colour of weak tea by the time I’d finished! But, it’s polished and clean now, and it’s in my writing instrument collection, safe and sound!

 

 

 
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Vintage Sewing Endeavor – A New Bag

I know this blog hasn’t been updated in over a month. That’s what happens when real-life affairs take precedence over online activities. From family events, looking for work and writing other stuff, I haven’t had much time to write much for here.

Well today I do.

I don’t drive. Never have, never will, can’t do it. Eyesight won’t allow it. Joy of joys. This greatly limits my mobility obviously, and I gotta rely on lifts from friends, public transport of questionable reliability, and a good pair of shoes. It also means I need a good bag. One that’s strong and which lasts. I don’t have the luxury of hauling half my house with me, dumping half of it in the car, taking what I choose, and then walking off somewhere and coming back later to get something else if I forgot. When I go out, I have to take everything I need with me, in one bag. This means that the bag has to be a decent size, good quality, and strong!

…What a pity that most of them aren’t.

In five years, I’ve had three bags, and they’ve all proved unsatisfactory in one way or another. They rip, they tear, they wear out, they fall apart…

I was so fed up with it that I decided to try and make my own bag. I researched fabrics and looked up designs online to try and figure out what my eventual bag would look like. I found a fabric warehouse in town which sells huge rolls of fabric to the public. They’re surplus from clothing-factories and they sell it off at so many dollars a square meter.

I showed up and got myself a healthy supply of denim fabric. I picked denim because I wanted a bag that was – first – blue, and – second – strong! Leather dries and cracks and flakes. And cotton just rips apart. I would’ve used canvas but I couldn’t find any, so I decided that denim would do as a suitable substitute.

I’ve never been much of a sewer, but I learned the basics from my grandmother – how to fold raw edges, how to sew seams, how to cut buttonholes and sew them by hand. How to measure, how to cut, how to make seam-allowances, and so-forth. I only do this stuff occasionally, so I’m still learning, but I felt that I had enough skill to try and make something which I would be comfortable using in public and carrying around. And so, I set to work.

Measurements and Calcuations

Before I did any cutting, the first thing I did was sketch what the bag would look like. I drew up a rough diagram and penciled in measurements on how wide, long, deep and high I wanted it, how many pockets, what the over-flap would look like, and so-forth. Now that I had the chance to make my own bag, I wanted to try and do it as best as I could. It wouldn’t look THAT professional, but still, I had a plan.

If you ever make a bag for yourself, like I did, one important thing to keep in mind with measurements is to decide what you’ll be putting in the bag, and to have those items near you when you’re doing your measurements. Measure the items you intend to put in the bag (laptop, iPad, umbrella, dead body, whatever…) and then proportion the bag accordingly so that whatever you put in will be housed securely and neatly. My big issue with a lot of my older bags was that they weren’t big enough to hold my bulkier items without compromising by chucking out other things which I might’ve needed. I was determined to make it and shape it to fit in everything I wanted.

Cutting the Fabric

To cut the fabric, I used my grandmother’s 8in. WISS tailor’s shears from the 50s. To get accurate measurements, I used one of those big, old-fashioned folding rulers made of wood, which have the measurements in inches. A modern plastic ruler warps and bends too much to be reliable when you’re cutting massive amounts of fabric. And this old wooden ruler extends to three feet long! More than enough for what I needed!

To try and minimise screw-ups, I measured how big I wanted the bag to be, then measured again, adding on extra inches, for seam-allowances, folding raw edges and for errors in my own calculations. To give the bag as much strength as possible, I used as few pieces of fabric as I could, and which pieces I did use, I tried to make them as big as possible.

The bag has eight pieces of fabric.

The first, huge piece was about a foot and a half wide, by three feet long. This gave me enough space to fold over the edges half an inch or so, to make space for mistakes, if there were any. The body of the bag is deliberately made of one big piece of fabric. The fewer seams there are, the fewer things there are to rip and tear, and the longer it’ll last.

Next came two side-panels for the end-walls of the bag. Then came pockets.

The bag has two pockets at the front, one big one at the back, two interior pockets, and one side-pocket for pens. I also cut extra red velvet fabric to act as a partial liner inside the bag, and some of the pockets. I didn’t have enough velvet to line the entire bag, so I just did the key areas. On top of that, I cut extra fabric for stuff like buttonholes, straps and so-forth.

Assembling the Bag

To put the bag together, I used my antique Singer:

My 1936 Singer Sewing Machine. A V.S. 128 model.

Friends have asked me questions about this machine for years.

“How do you use it?”
“Does it work?”
“How do you control it with only one hand?”
“Does it sew through thick fabrics?”
“Aren’t you scared about breaking it?”

The answers are:

“Easily”
“Yes”
“Preparation”.
“Yes” (although, not leather).
“No. It lasted this long, it’ll last a hell of a lot longer!”

I prefer using this machine to a modern one for all manner of reasons. It’s easier to set up, it’s much easier to operate, it’s HIGHLY portable and it’s forgiving of your mistakes!

The great thing about a manual sewing machine is that you can set it up literally ANYWHERE, regardless of light, space, and of course, whether or not there’s a power-outlet nearby! You just plonk it on the table, open it up, thread it, and sew!

The other great thing is that, since it IS a manual machine, you, yourself, decide how fast, or how slow, this machine is going to run. Not some electric motor with a gummy power-pedal which is as fidgety as a spooked stallion. This machine can go as slow and as fast as you want. Give it enough speed and a long-enough run-up, and it’ll punch through four, six, even eight layers of denim with no problems at all!

Because I can directly control the machine, I can decide precisely how to use it. I can run it at a snail’s pace if I’m doing something delicate, or as fast as I can turn the handle, to finish a seam. For someone with poor eyesight, it’s good to know that I can operate it slowly and precisely, when I need to get close and personal to my work and make sure that everything is lined up properly, instead of sewing my hands together!

Sewing the Components

Using my Singer, I sewed all the seams and lining and pockets, and then pieced everything together.

It’s easier to work with pieces and piece pieces to pieces and then put it together. That is, it’s easier to do that, than build the bag up, and THEN try and tack extras onto it like pockets and loops. It’s better to build up each component with all its necessities, before building the bag itself. That way there’s nothing leftover at the end to vex you! Some elements were easier to do than others, but I’m glad to say that about 90% of the sewing for this bag was done on my old Singer. The only hand-sewing I did was to sew on the buttons for closure, and to cut and sew the buttonholes by hand (I didn’t trust the sewing machine to stitch in the buttonholes reliably with its buttonholer-attachment, which has failed before now).

There was a time where I had considered sewing in a zipper or two on the bag, but in the end I decided to leave that to another project. I’d rather stick with what I knew for this project, and try that another time. I was much more comfortable with buttons and buttonholes, and I didn’t want the bag to be too ambitious, and screw it up at the last minute! That said, the button-closures I did make have worked very well!

I made the buttonholes vertical instead of horizontal. This would, I hoped, prevent the fabric from tearing from constant opening and closing. At the front of the bag, I made denim tags and sewed rope loops into them, to act as buttonholes, as I reckoned these would last longer than ordinary buttonholes, since they would be opened and closed more often than others. I used large, brass buttons instead of plastic ones. Plastic cracks and breaks and brass is stronger. To sew them in place, I used string instead of thread, so that they wouldn’t snap or wear out easily.

Attaching the hardware came next. To do that, I used more spare denim to cut tabs for holding down the D-rings for the shoulder-strap. I made everything here double-thickness and sewed everything back and forth, over and over at least two or three times on each side, since they would be taking the entire weight of the bag on just two points. I wanted to make sure that everything was secure.

When sewing, I used navy blue thread. I wanted a thread that matched the colour of the denim as near as possible. Admittedly, this was to camouflage my own deficiencies in sewing. If I was better Might’ve used white thread, but I didn’t want any mistakes or obvious screw-ups to stand out. And at any rate, I doubt anybody would be looking closely enough to really care. In the end, this was the result:

The Finished Bag:

The finished bag. The canvas and leather strap came from one of my previous bags which was falling apart.

The back of the bag with a three-button closure on the back pocket. I originally wanted to use brass snaps, but they weren’t strong enough.

One of the D-rings for attaching the strap.

Considering that this is my first real attempt at something like this, I’m pretty pleased at how it turned out, although the proof of quality will be in how long it lasts! We’ll see!

 
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10kt Gold Victorian-era Infant Ring. Ca. 1870-1890.

Sometimes, you find the niftiest stuff at charity shops! I picked up this little gem today:

I’ve researched it, and asked jewelers about it, and compared it with other examples online. It’s been tested by a reputable auction house and the conclusion of all, is that this is a stunning example of a Victorian era baby’s ring (probably a pinkie ring)!

It is intended for use by infants and toddlers. It is absolutely tiny! I can’t fit it onto my pinkie-finger, and my hands are pretty small. Something like this was probably a present to a newborn or to a baby on its first birthday. The ring is certified 10kt gold, and the star settings are red garnet, and seed pearls, as can be seen here:

The ring dates to the second half of the Victorian era, probably between 1870-1890. I’ve never seen one like it before, but examples online which closely resemble this ring all state that they are baby’s rings, and that they are usually 10kt gold. I consulted a jeweler friend of mine (if you’re reading this, you know who you are! Thanks!), and he said that it was common for 10 & 15kt gold to be unmarked in the period before Australian federation (which was 1901). Since this ring is Victorian in date, that makes a lot of sense.

I’m so amazed to own this thing! I just had to share it 🙂

 
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Antique Ivory – What is it? Where does it come from? How do you get it? Is it LEGAL?

I collect antiques.

I have done for quite a few years, now. And I consider myself to be at least reasonably knowledgeable about the items which, and the periods from when I collect.

My main area of collection is antique writing accessories and equipment, although I will collect anything that catches my fancy, so as a result, my collection can be rather eclectic. Over the years I’ve noticed that I’ve amassed a small collection of ivory. And this is what this post is about. Ivory. What is is, how to I.D. it, where to find it, how to get it and all that other good stuff.

Ivory is beautiful. Ivory is rare. Ivory is expensive. And ivory is fraught with legal, moral and other kinds of difficulties. So let’s get right into it!

What Is Ivory?

In simplest terms, ivory is teeth. It’s the enamel-like substance that makes up the core and exterior of tusks and teeth. It’s famed for its colour, texture, ease of carving and variety of size and shape.

Where does Ivory Come From?

Elephants!

Yes. But there are also a number of other sources. These include hippos, walruses, seals, narwhals, and the extinct mammoth. Mammoth ivory is legal to purchase and trade, as it does not harm living creatures, however, it is very expensive. It’s also legal to trade other ivory, provided that the ivory comes from a creature that died of natural causes. As poaching ivory-bearing animals is illegal, quantities of legal ivory are very small and the prices are, unsurprisingly, prohibitively expensive.

Is it Legal to Own Ivory?

Yes…with a ‘but’.

It IS legal to own, buy and sell antique ivory. The animal’s already dead, so there’s no issues surrounding poaching, or wondering where the ivory came from. Nobody cares about an elephant who died 150 years ago. You can’t be prosecuted for owning antique ivory (s’long as you didn’t steal it!). I own about a dozen pieces of antique ivory myself. All purchased quite legally from antiques shops and flea-markets, fairs and other such events.

Owning NEW ivory is fraught with ALL KINDS of issues. ‘New’ ivory basically means anything which was harvested, or processed in any way, after the Second World War, and especially, after the 1970s and 80s.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, okay sure. Whatever. But is it LEGAL to own new ivory?

YES. But owning new ivory comes with so many strings attached, you could strum it like a harp.

It IS legal to buy and own modern ivory, but when you see the hassle that goes into it…you might change your mind. Even expert antiques dealers and auctioneers who have been doing this for decades couldn’t tell you how hard it is. There’s more loopholes in this than the curtain wall on a castle. Don’t believe me? Here goes…

It is legal for Alaskan natives to sell ivory (walrus ivory, usually) to non-natives. BUT ONLY AFTER the animal (which was hunted) has been thoroughly used up, FIRST. Killing the walrus just for the ivory and discarding the rest of the animal is illegal.

It’s legal to sell MAMMOTH ivory, because mammoths are already dead, so no live animals are hurt in extracting the ivory. But it’s prohibitively expensive.

It’s legal to sell narwhal ivory. But again, you need paperwork.

It’s legal to sell ‘vintage ivory’ (that is, ivory that’s old, but which is still postwar), so long as you have full documentation.

Ivory, Bone and Plastic

For whatever reason – Perhaps you inherited it – perhaps you found it – perhaps you bought it at a flea-market or antiques shop – you have a piece of ivory.

Or at least, you think you do. But you have no idea if it is. How do you tell? Here is my guide to determining if something is, or is not ivory.

Here, we have a closeup of three different materials. One of them is ivory. Two of them are often mistaken for ivory. What’s the difference??

The items are a page-turner, a paper-folder, and the scales from a straight-razor. They all look roughly the same, but only one is the real McCoy. How do you tell which one of these three materials is ivory? Well, to help you with that, here is my own little guide:

IVORY…

…is a natural product. If it looks absolutely perfect, it ain’t ivory. Even the most perfect ivory will have flaws of some kind. Spots. Inclusions. Lines. Pitting. Stuff like that.
…is like wood. It has a grain that you can either see with your eyes, or feel with your fingernails. If you don’t see or feel some sort of grain – be suspicious!
…grain is never uniform. Like wood-grain, it’s random and goes all over the place. If the ‘grain’ is perfectly spaced out (see the straight razor at the bottom), then it is not ivory. It is plastic with a faux ‘grain’ on top to make it look like ivory.
…is normally very smooth, with minimal pitting and is usually an off-white cream or darker beige colour.
…does NOT have a whole heap of pitting and holes and black spots on it. Black spots and deep, frequent pitting (large enough to catch your fingernail in) means that the item is BONE, NOT IVORY. The black spots are marrow-flecks.
…can vary from piece to piece, depending on age, condition, and of course, the animal it’s taken from.

Beware of the term ‘French Ivory’. This is just a fancy way of saying ‘celluloid’, which itself was also called Xylonite and Parkesine (two early names for what later was called celluloid).

If the above guide doesn’t help, another way of testing for ivory is the ‘hot needle’ test. Heat up a needle until it’s really, really hot. Then stick it into the item which you think is ivory.

If it is ivory – nothing happens. If it isn’t ivory, then the item will melt, smoulder or the needle will sink into the item. Or the item might be bone.

If the item is celluloid, then DON’T TRY THIS!!! Antique celluloid is HIGHLY COMBUSTIBLE and it WILL burst into flames if it’s exposed to high enough heat. having seen what happens firsthand what happens when you set fire to celluloid (I did it as an experiment with a broken fountain pen) – I can assure you – you don’t want antique plastic flaring up and exploding in front of you!

Owning and Looking After Ivory

Owning ivory is legal, provided that it is ANTIQUE IVORY, or, if it’s modern ivory – if you have all the necessary documentation. With antique ivory, you don’t need documentation, so long as you can prove how old it is by some other means (maybe it’s part of a set, maybe it’s part of another antique, etc).

The only exception to this is the United States.

In the EU, Great Britain, and most countries of the former British Empire, it’s perfectly legal to own antique ivory – and you don’t need any supporting paperwork. Antiques dealers can sell it and trade it quite openly from their shops, market-stalls and elsewhere, and the discerning public can buy it, own it, use it and collect it as they wish.

But in America, laws were passed as recently as 2014 which state that ALL IVORY – including antique ivory – MUST come with certificates and paperwork from the relevant government departments stating that this ivory was legally purchased and accessed. There are NO exceptions to this.

The rest of the world doesn’t care – If it’s antique ivory, and it’s OBVIOUSLY antique ivory – then obviously, no animals in recent times died for it – so unless you stole it – it’s legal. This is the case in Britain, Europe, Australia and a number of other countries. But in the United States, all ivory, regardless of origin, provenance and history, must come with government documentation. Unsurprisingly, it’s rubbed a lot of people the wrong way – especially antiques dealers, who have now essentially been branded criminals for things that they purchased quite legally.

If you are in the ‘States, or if you’re going there with ivory – watch out!!

But, for whatever reason – you have ivory. You inherited, or bought it, or found it. Now what do you do to keep it safe?

Ivory should be handled with care. If you touch it often enough, it will eventually turn yellow (like those antique piano-keys), and it can dry out and crack. So keep it away from heat and strong sunlight as much as possible. So long as it’s kept cool, away from heat and strong light, an item made of ivory should last for many, many, many years.

My Ivory Collection

This is my personal collection of ivory, amassed over a period of about five years. It’s comprised of page-turners (the two flat pieces, bottom left), paper-knives (two on bottom right), ink-erasers (inner left and inner right. Spearpoint blades). Letter-opener (top left, next to ink-eraser). Button-hook, hole-punch, crochet-hook and file, and at the top – a ruler made of ivory. All these pieces are at least 100 years old (in some cases at least 150 years old!), and are all in wonderful condition.

Every piece here is ivory – and you can see the subtle differences in shade, finish, and colour. No two pieces are exactly the same. That is because this is a natural product which, like wood – is always a little different from sample to sample. Colour also varies from sample to sample. Compare the two ink-knives – the left one is darker, the right one is lighter.

This is my 13th piece of ivory – another paper-knife/letter-opener (or doctor’s tongue-depressor, as a few have suggested).

Hopefully this guide has been useful and helpful to people who own, or want to own, pieces of antique ivory 🙂

 
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Double-Hinge Writing Slope (ca. 1875)

During the Australia Day Long Weekend (Australia Day is the 26th of January for those who don’t know), I headed up to the country for the annual Fryerstown Antiques Fair. A three-day antiques fair which takes place in the tiny hamlet of Fryerstown, which is virtually in the middle of nowhere. Been going there for a few years, now. And I’ve always found something nice whenever I go.

Last year it was a Singer Puzzle Box. The year before that, it was a clothes valet. This year, it was this:

The Little Black Box

I purchased this rather battered-looking writing-slope for what I consider to be a very good price, considering the fact that it was missing almost everything that made purchasing something like this worthwhile. But I considered it a good purchase because it was a style of writing-slope or writing-box which I did not yet own. And I decided that it would make a good restoration-project.

At any rate, I purchased the box and brought it home. I cleaned the leather with beeswax and scrubbed off all the grime. I opened the box and cleaned out the interior. The box came without inkwells, or key. The owner had no information on it other than that he’d purchased it at auction and kept it at home, half-opened, as a display-piece, until he decided that since he didn’t use it, he may as well just get rid of it for a low price. That’s where I came in!

Restoring the Writing Slope

The box is beautiful and more-or-less structurally sound, but it suffered from a number of issues.

– It had no inkwells.
– It had no key.
– The antique ‘Russia Leather’ covering was dry and filthy.
– The lining of black, textured paper was peeling away, and was too brittle to glue back down (so I removed it).
– The base of the box was structurally unsound. It was starting to crack and part. So I needed to reinforce it.

The first step in restoring the box to full functionality was fixing this whole issue with the inkwells. This was going to be a bloody nightmare. Antique writing-slope inkwells are damn near impossible to find, they’re expensive to buy, and they’re even MORE expensive to import from Europe. And what’s worse – this box needed TWO such inkwells!

Knowing my chances to finding two identical glass antique inkwells that precisely fitted the slots inside the box were very, very slim, I looked for suitable alternatives, and found one in small, 18ml flattop medicine-jars used for ointments, and which had tight-sealing metal lids with foam washers inside to prevent leaks. They fitted ideally into the slots, and were exactly the right height so that the box would always close securely. Wonderful!

To cover up the original brand-name on the bottle-lids, I glued on circles of red velvet. To make the bottles easier to pull out and unscrew for use, I put cut slits in the velvet and threaded some yellow ribbon through to act as little handles.

The two new inkwells in their slots

In case anyone else is restoring a writing-box like this and is struggling to find inkwells – I used 18ml ‘Tiger Balm’ jars. They’re little hexagonal glass jars with flat, brass screw-on lids. They were the perfect size. The closest thing I was likely to get, barring the purchase of actual inkwells.

To be clear, you CAN purchase reproduction glass and brass-topped, screw-down inkwells for writing-slopes. But they’re prohibitively expensive. For me, it would’ve cost at least the price I paid for the box, and more. I wasn’t willing or able to spend that kind of money on it.

After finding appropriate inkwell substitutes, the next step was to reinforce the base of the box. It was originally covered in a simple, paper backing, and this had peeled right off. The wood underneath had also started to split and part company from the rest of the box, to the extent that you could feel the wood moving when you picked up the box.

To fix this, I put on sheets of adhesive foam padding. The foam would be thicker than paper, and last longer than felt (which is what most vintage boxes were covered with, on their bases). The foam bottom would allow the box to be slid around smoothly, and not catch or scratch anything if it was moved around on a table or other smooth surface.

The next step in restoring the box was to put in a new lining.

Re-lining the Interior

The original lining of the box was black, textured paper. It was peeling right off and bubbling up, coming away from the wooden surface of the box. The original glue had long since dried out. Gluing the paper back down was not an option because of how fragile it was. It would simply crumble and crack into dust. It was only the layer of glue that held it together. I found out how weak it was when I tried vacuuming out the dust and it peeled right off.

The original black paper lining. You can see where it’s peeling away and bubbling up

I removed the original black paper and decided to line the box with red velvet. To make it easier, I used thin cardboard to cut out simple templates which I then glued onto sheets of velvet. Doing this means that the velvet can be placed more precisely and more neatly, into the interior of the writing-slope.

After gluing the cardboard templates to the velvet sheeting, I cut the velvet out, tracing around the cardboard backings. Then I glued the card and the velvet into the box, and then simply dropped in the velvet base, without gluing it to the floor of the box (it seemed pointless anyway – it’s not going anywhere!) I know for a fact that writing slopes were lined in velvet, so I felt that this was an entirely appropriate choice for a period-accurate restoration-material. The enormous quantity of velvet fabric which I had, originally came from a shop that sold huge rolls of curtaining-material!

Cleaning the Leather Exterior

Cleaning the exterior on this box was tricky. It’s covered in ‘Russia Leather’, that is to say, leather that’s been treated with oil from the birch tree after the original tanning process. It’s called ‘Russia Leather’ because this method of leather-treatment was developed in Russia. Treating the leather thus made it impervious to insect attack, rot, and also rendered it waterproof. An ideal material with which to cover a wooden box which would be transported all over the place.

But that was 130+ years ago. In that time the leather has become caked in dust and grime and has dried up. To prevent it peeling and cracking, I rubbed and scrubbed the whole surface over with dubbin (standard beeswax polish) to clean and soften the leather. This isn’t an easy or quick process. Dubbin is laid on, rubbed in, then wiped or brushed off and then the whole thing is rubbed over again. This moistens the leather and removes the grime at the same time. But it takes a while! The result, however, is that the leather will continue to endure

Filling out the Box

Having cleaned the box inside and out, having re-lined the interior and having found inkwells for it, my next step was to try and fill out the box with appropriate accessories which might’ve been found inside it during the heyday of its use. This was both easy and not so easy.

Some things are easier to find than others. Notepaper, envelopes and such, are easy to find. So are dip-pens, pencils, pen-holders, ink for the inkwells etc. The harder items to find were things like the ivory utensils that likely comprised part of this box’s equipment when it was new.

All kitted out. Pencil, pen, inkwells, an ivory page-turner and other stuff which isn’t visible

It took considerable searching and luck, but in the end, I did manage to find an authentic Victorian page-turner made of ivory, to put into the box’s front slot. I also included stuff like spare nibs, sealing-wax, a seal, and a bone-folder to finish off the look.

The last thing to do was to find a key for the box. This was essential, as the box would be impossible to carry without a key. After a trip to the local flea-market and considerable testing and measuring, I was able to find a key that operated the lock smoothly and easily.

The key is tied to the box by yellow ribbon, to prevent it being lost

How long did this whole process take?

From the day I bought the box until the day I found the final piece (the key), it was all over and done with, in about two weeks.

Not bad as far as time goes.

 
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Ladies’ Victorian-Era Writing Slope & Crochet Box (Ca. 1880)

The Little Red Box

This unassuming red box was something I picked up from a local flea-market about two weeks ago. I thought it was rather cute, and after a careful examination of it, I decided to buy it. On the outside, it doesn’t look anything special, and its outward appearance certainly doesn’t provide any clues as to what’s inside the box. But when I opened the lid, I just knew I had to have it.

The box with the lid opened

And here we are! With the lid unlocked and folded down, we see that it doubles as a writing-surface, with tabs for holding in blotting-paper. Beyond that is a storage-compartment and inkwell-slot. With…the original inkwell! Whoo-hoo! Beyond that is the leather stationery console…

Top to Bottom: Photograph album. Order-booklet. Pocket calender. Dip-pen. Pencil. Bone-Folder.

…which pops up… …to reveal more stuff on the other side: Here we have even more of the box’s original bits and pieces. I believe most of these to be crochet tools. We have yarn in a variety of colours and various hooks and picks, together with hole-punchers, a file, and a paper-knife or letter-opener. They’re all made of ivory. Between the legs of the pop-up stand is a beautiful, red silk interior, for storing stuff like the needle-case, the pin-cushion and other stuff… The little bundle of sticks up the back are actually tiny, tiny, tiny pencils. I’ve no idea what they’re for. They came with the box. Here’s a closeup of all the cute things inside the box:

Hole-puncher. Hook (button-hook?). Crochet hook. Crochet hook. File and spike.

Itty-bitty pencils. Four dip-pens. Needle-case (on the right). Pin-cushion (or what i think is a pin-cushion) on the left.

I was able to roughly date the box by its contents. Inside were calenders, booklets and photographs, dating between 1891-1899. I took that to meant that the box was manufactured sometime in the 1880s, possibly before then. In roughly 10 years of collecting antique writing instruments and accessories, and roughly 20 years drooling over writing-slopes of various kinds, this is the first slope or box or desk of this kind, that I had ever seen. I was amazed at a number of things. The first was the design. I’d never seen something like this before. And until someone else showed me a finished eBay auction, I thought that it might even be unique. But it does seem to have been an established style in the 1800s. Albeit one that must be pretty rare. In my time, I’ve seen about half-a-dozen different writing-slope designs, but never something like this! The box has no manufacturer’s mark on it anywhere at all. Which I find odd. You’d think something of this quality would come with a mark or label somewhere. And perhaps at one point it did. But I can’t see it anywhere. Restomodding the Box When I purchased this box at the start of the month, I was more-or-less, thrilled by its condition. But there was one problem with the box that needed to be swiftly rectified. And that was the broken storage compartment, which looked like this, when I bought it:

The broken storage compartment. Awww…

The storage-compartment bottom or floor, was originally one long, length of wood, which ran from one end to the other, fitting in place between small, wooden supports. Unfortunately, this was broken at some point in the box’s history. As it was the one piece that held all the other pieces in the storage-compartment together, everything had since gone out of alignment. There was evidence of at least one attempt at a repair, but it obviously didn’t work! So I was determined to try and fix it. If I wanted to, I could easily just cut a piece of wood and slot it back in and reassemble the box as it was originally. But I felt that this created a huge waste of space underneath the storage compartment. So I decided to restomod (restorative-modification, for those who’ve never heard the term) the box. To rebuild the broken floor, as well as incorporate a secret storage compartment underneath it. To do this, I pulled the box apart…

The box in pieces

…then I glued in small, wooden blocks to act as supports… …after that, I cut out two pieces of wood. One to support the inkwell, and the original storage-compartment-inkwell divider, and the other to act as the base for the storage-compartment, and the false-bottom, and lid for the secret compartment, underneath. The finished product looks like this:

Everything back in place. The inkwell is up on its correct level, and the original lid is back in place.

And here we can see the new floor:

Covered in green felt

…and without the inkwell… And here’s what it looks like with everything in place:

Press down on the left and the false bottom pops up. Take it out, and then you can access the space underneath. Then just slot it back in and pop it back down.

 
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Travel-Tips for the Vision-Impaired (and probably everyone else)

I decided to write this major departure from my blog’s usual content, kind of out of boredom. And to have a bit of fun, spread the love and share the knowledge and whatever…

Travel is fun. Travel is exciting. Travel is memorable. Travel is a pain in the ass.

Especially when your eyesight is far from perfect. Like mine. Oh thrill of thrills and joy of joys. Whatever…

Here are my tips for visually-impaired people who go travelling, who might want to travel, or normal people who go traveling and might have visually-impaired travelling companions coming along for the ride. Tips on how to get organised, tips on how to cope and tips on how to get around any problems along the way. Also in this guide are more general travel-tips, written by one who has been flying around the world since the age of 5. Anyway, here goes…

Packing

Wherever possible – conserve space. Socks inside shoes. Undies inside toiletry bags. Use zip-up clothing-bags to pack your clothes. You can cram more into a smaller space, organise your suitcase a hell of a lot better, and cram in more of those cutesy souvenirs that you buy.Using zip-up clothing bags allows you to store and organise your clothes in ways which wouldn’t be possible without them, maximising the space available to you in your roller-bags and suitcases.

Do not overpack. I made this mistake on a trip to London. Huge pain in the ass. Going somewhere cold in winter? Bring ONE coat. Make it a decent one. Forget about scarves and gloves. It ain’t that cold. You’ll be walking around or driving or riding most of the time anyway. Unless you’re doing what my brother did. He went to Russia in winter, and damn near died of hypothermia. If possible, buy what you need when you’re over there. Don’t bring socks and undies for every day of the week – you won’t need them. Wash them, dry them, use them again. Bring one or two spares, just in case.

Keep all your liquids in a separate bag. It’ll save time having to dig them out later at the security checkpoint.

Do Not Bring Books! My dad always brings books when he flies. God knows why. You only read them when you fly. And they take up valuable space in the meantime. And they’re heavy. If you must – then bring a small book. Or a book that will help you – like a guidebook or translator or something. Chances are you won’t read them on the plane anyway – that’s what the in-flight entertainment system is for.

Compartmentalise Your Packing. If you’re visually impaired and you can’t remember where the hell anything is inside your bag. If you can’t remember or even worse, can’t see, then one simple way around it is to pack everything in compartments. You can use those zip-shut packing bags, or for other more important stuff (house-keys, medicines etc), you could use those plastic snap-lid takeaway boxes. You can stick things the tops (colourful stickers, velcro-dots etc) to help you remember what items are in which box. And it makes conserving space inside your suitcase a damn lot easier!

The Airport

Get there with PLENTY of time to spare. At least two or three hours. Sometimes this is mandatory. And if it is, add another hour or two on top of that.

If you’re visually-impaired like I am, you’ll know how much planning you have to do when you go to a place you’re not familiar with. Especially when you can’t read the damn signs which are stuck twelve feet up in the sky. If you have a monocular – use it. If people stare – stuff ’em. Let them stare. You don’t care and neither do I.

It’s better to get there really early and then spend your time eating, shopping and pissing, rather than panicking and sprinting around the airport like a recreation of the start of “Home Alone: Lost in New York”.

Take your time and don’t rush. It’s your holiday. Don’t spoil it by sprinting through the airport. Take your time to find out where important things are – like the chocolate shop. Or the toilet. Or the gate and lounge.

Tie Something Big, Ugly and Colourful to your Suitcase-Handles. This is what I do when I go on a trip. Some flashy bright rope. A bright red or multicoloured plastic bag. A soft squishy cuddle-toy. Tie something that’s easily recognisable, easily spotted and which nobody else would ever dare admit to owning, to your suitcase handles. This way, you’ll always be able to find your suitcase on the carousels when it’s being offloaded from the airplane. Or if you can’t find it and someone asks you what it looks like -you can just tell them that it’s the one with the Polka-Dotted Piggy Toy tied to the handle. This is especially useful in this day and age, when all your luggage can look frustratingly similar to everyone else’s luggage.

Navigation, Orientation, and Mobility

On holiday, your camera is your best friend. And not just for the selfies. Use your camera to…

– Take a photo of your hotel.
– Take a photo of the nearest intersection/street.
– Take a photo of the map that you’ll use (once you’ve annotated it).
– Take a photo of any nearby landmarks.

Whenever I travel – London, Paris, Shanghai, Peking, New York, San Francisco, Toronto…I always take a photograph of the map which I intend to use when I’m in town. Why? Because a photograph on your camera will last a hell of a lot longer than a paper map that you keep folding, unfolding, opening, closing, writing on and marking. Eventually it’ll rip, tear, fall apart, get stuff spilled on it, and you’re stuffed. And they always come with those stupid vouchers and advertisements which make the map twice as large as it should be. Paper maps are hard to read, and they take up valuable space in your everyday-carry bag. They’re also a pain in the ass to fold! On a camera (or camera-phone), you don’t have to worry about all that garbage, and you can enlarge the image to crazy-huge proportions to read EVERYTHING!! Building-names. Street-names. Grid-references. It’s so much easier!

On top of that…

– Use your camera to take a picture of the info-page on your passport. Just in case. This way, you can keep your passport safe in the hotel, and carry a picture of it around with you, if it’s necessary.
– If you’re using the subway and there’s a map at the station of the local area, photograph that, too. And use it as a guide while you’re in the neighbourhood.
– ALWAYS charge your camera. At least every second day. Just in case. Or carry spare batteries if you can.
– OMG!!! Your friends saw something REALLY COOL!!…across the river…on the other side of the road…on the fourth storey of a building…and…You can’t. Oh jeez. Use your camera to zoom in on whatever it is they’re drooling over, take a picture of it, and then enlarge the picture with your camera’s features to see what all the fuss is about!

Carry a Torch/Flashlight, and plenty of spare batteries. If you’re visually impaired, what’s enough bright for others is not enough bright for you, and sometimes a white cane is not the best solution. They’re bulky, and they can mark you out as a target. Not a safe thing if you’re in an unfamiliar city. If possible, carry a torch instead. Whenever I go out at night, I carry a super-powerful military-grade flashlight in my bag.

My weapon of choice is the LED Lenser P6. It takes two AA batteries – so they’re easy to find, easy to buy, easy to load. It’s VERY bright. It’s small, it’s portable, it has a wide beam and a focus-beam. And it’s solid as a brick. If you drop it, it won’t break. I also carry a AAA-battery LED Lenser P2 pocket light, just in case. If I need MORE LIGHT I also have a LED Lenser P7!

Don’t be embarrassed to whip out your torch and flash it around at night if you’re walking home from a night of tourism. Better that you should look like a weirdo and know where you’re going, than try and fit in with the crowd and walk into a parked motorcycle in a pitch-black street (that happened to me once).

Torches are handy for looking out for poles, steps, curbs and drunken hobos at night. But they’re also great for reading signs, and for looking at things in poorly-illuminated restaurants and shops. Antiquing, bargain-hunting and souvenir-shopping just got a whole lot easier.

Carry a whistle. If you get lost or separated from your group in a crowd, shouting isn’t always going to get their attention. Especially if it’s a noisy and crowded place like a market or street-carnival or parade. Or if you’re really short and you can get swallowed up by all the people around you.

I carry around an old-style dual-chamber Metropolitan general service whistle, which was a souvenir of my first trip to London.

Why? Four reasons.

1. It’s very tough. It’s solid brass. It won’t crack or shatter like those plastic whistles we have now.
2. It’s very small. About the size of a USB stick.
3. It has a unique sound. It doesn’t sound anything like your run-of-the-mill referee whistle that you see these days – which is good – because you don’t want your emergency whistle to be mistaken for anything other than what it’s meant to be. Otherwise it’ll be like a fire-truck playing Greensleeves.
4. It’s extremely loud! Which is what you want. Don’t forget, these whistles were designed for police so that they could call for help in an emergency. So they’re designed to be heard for blocks in every direction.

Carry a Magnifying Glass.  Science shows that straining your eyes does not permanently damage them. But it does make them hurt and it makes you sleepy. And you don’t wanna be sleepy on your holiday. Carry a pocket magnifying glass with you when you go out on holiday. Keep it in your pocket. Use it to read menus, maps and other such things.

When I was in London I kept a copy of the Tube map in my pocket. Great reference guide (the Tube is very easy to use), but the writing is microscopic! I carry a pocket magifying glass or ‘quizzing-glass’ in my pocket whenever I go out, now. It’s 5x magnification, which is generally good enough for most applications.

If you need something stronger, then seek out a jewellery-supplies shop, or go on eBay and look up loupes (prounced ‘loop’). A loupe is a high-power magnifier (starting generally, at 10x and going up as high as 50 or 60x). This is not only great for small font, but also looking at stuff like hallmarks and makers’ marks…that’s what they were designed for, anyway!!

Write down addresses. You wanna go somewhere. A shop. A street. A museum. Gallery. Restaurant…in Rome, Paris, Germany, or some other place where people are unlikely to speak fluent English. Oh crap. Now what?? Don’t panic. Simply look up the address of the place online. Copy it down exactly. Then give it to the taxi-driver when you hop in the car.

Carry a Compass. The iPhone comes with a compass-feature set into it. But if your portable telephone of choice does not have one (for whatever reason), then a simple compass is sometimes a good thing to carry around. Especially if you’re hopeless at reading maps or have no concept of the motions of the sun.

Surviving your Trip

Research public holidays. I can’t stress this enough. There is nothing more annoying than flying halfway around the world to your dream destination to find out on your first day that everything is locked up tighter than the recipe for Colonel Sanders’ Finger-Lickin’ Chicken recipe, and all because it’s National Guacamole Appreciation Week.

Research all the places you wanna go, way ahead of time. It’s a certified pain in the ass trying to find out stuff about the hotspots you wanna go to when you’re actually there. Don’t do it. Find out when they’re open, how to get there and what to expect when you are there.

Learn at least a few basic phrases. Where’s the toilet? How much is *whatever*. Hello. Goodbye. Good morning. Good night. How much for a pound of weed? In some countries, you may not have to. I went to the Netherlands and spoke English all the time. But in some countries you won’t be so lucky.

Watch out for pickpockets. Pickpockets are like rivers. They move fast, and they can get surprisingly deep when you’re not looking. And they are everywhere. Don’t be a chump and keep your wallet in an outside pocket or anywhere else easily accessible by someone other than yourself. Keep it inside your jacket or coat. Or in the hardest part of your bag to open.

“What about my money!? There’s a dancing Buddha statue which I MUST BUY!!”

Keep your money (but only small amounts) in your pockets. Preferably scattered about your person so that you don’t lose everything all at once if a pickpocket does decide to take you for a ride.

Use your Impairment to your Advantage. You have a visual disability. EMBRACE IT! Disabled discounts. Pensioner concessions. Pity discounts. Whatever you can get out of these suckers, milk ’em for every Baht, Yen, Pound, Dollar, Yuan and Euro you can! I snagged discount seats in one of the best rows in a West End London theater to watch Les Miserables simply by spilling the beans about me being a poor blind beggar-boy who was here on holiday. OK I exaggerate a bit…but we did get those seats. See? It can be beneficial for your friends, too. Remember, sighted people. Your vision-impaired travel-companion can open doors that you can’t.

Never Leave Your Bags Unattended. And not just at airports, either! Pickpockets and bag-snatchers are crafty little bastards. Keep your valuables in hard-to-reach places. Inside pockets of coats, or zipped-up areas inside your bag. Only store non-valuable stuff in the outside compartments or pockets of your bag or coat. Cheap sunglasses. Your pocket umbrella. Maps. Valuable stuff like cameras, phones, wallets and cards should be kept in places which only you can reach. Or which pickpockets will have much greater trouble accessing.

Never keep your stuff in your trouser pockets. Not only is it easy to spot, and retrieve, it’s easier to lose stuff that way. If at all possible, keep your valuables in the safebox in your hotel room and only take the bare necessities with you when you go out.

Carry cards from your hotel. This will make it easier for you to find your way home, especially if you’re in a place that doesn’t speak English.

Packing Souvenirs

One of the great joys of travelling is buying souvenirs and bringing them home to adorn your humble abode, and share them with friends, and the fascinating stories that come with them. But one of the biggest nightmares of travelling is getting your souvenirs HOME!!!! Yurgh!! Now what??

If you were smart to begin with, you packed light, and therefore, your suitcase should still have sufficient space for souvenirs. But if you’re struggling, here’s a few tips, written by one who has brought home countless fragile, breakable, rare and antique treasures from trips abroad.

Remove the Packaging! A surprising amount of space is taken up, and wasted, by packaging. Cardboard boxes, plastic wrap, vacuum-sealed containers. Rip all that crap off! Not only does it make the item smaller and more manageable, it also makes the item…lighter! Very important in this age of luggage-weight restrictions.

Pack Your Souvenirs in your Clothes. If the item you’re bringing home is fragile, pack it CAREFULLY inside your clothes in your suitcase. But do not over-pad the item. You want it to be safe and shock-proof. You do NOT want the item to be CRUSHED when you close the suitcase!

Maximise Space! So you brought home that Chinese teacup set from Shanghai. Or that Royal Doulton from the Buckingham Palace souvenir shop (yes, Buckingham Palace has a souvenir shop. Go and check it out if you don’t believe me). But if you put that in your suitcase, then you can’t fit in that hardcover edition of The Complete Works of William Shakespeare that you got during your saunter through Stratford-Upon-Avon. Oh dear…

If the souvenirs are hollow (teapots, mugs, bells etc), then stuff your clothes inside! Singlets, tops, T-shirts, socks, shirts. Not only does it conserve space, it protects the item from being crushed and broken!

Get a Box from the Hotel. Hotels are constantly getting deliveries. Food. Toiletries. Fresh linens. Stationery. The list goes on. Ask at the front desk or ask the concierge if there are any old cardboard boxes lying around anywhere, maybe back in storage in the offices. Any old cardboard boxes, and some duct-tape and scissors. Take whatever boxes they give you, cut them to the right size, fold them and pack them around the object you have, and then tape it together. This should give you at least some sort of packaging to carry stuff home in.

Pull It Apart! If you can, pull your souvenir apart into its component pieces. This will make it easier to pack, and you can spread the weight across your luggage to get it on the plane more easily. Just make sure you remember how to put it back together again! (Don’t remember how to do that? Use your camera to take pictures to help you).

Plan in Advance! If you’re anything like my family, you have a bad habit of going overseas, and bringing back massive, heavy, unwieldy souvenirs! Everything from Venetian theater-masks, to posters, to guitars, to replica Japanese samurai swords, Balinese carvings that weigh twenty pounds, sewing machines that weigh 30 pounds, or an extremely rare Victorian-era writing slope loaded with nick-nacks.

If you KNOW that this is likely, then plan for it! One way to do this is to pack a crushable, foldable or otherwise collapsible ‘souvenirs bag’ into your suitcase. I suggest a duffel-bag or carry-all made of tough canvas, with zippers, carry-handles and shoulder-straps (that’s what I use, anyway). It’s easily packed, easily opened, doesn’t weigh much, is tough, can hold lots of stuff, and is relatively easy to carry.

 
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“High Class Hand Safe” – Vintage steel-construction strongbox (Ca. 1930)

Here’s something you don’t see every day.

“High Class Hand Safe”

This beast is the “High Class Hand Safe”, although it don’t look that high class, and it sure as hell ain’t a safe!

I bought this at the local flea-market after managing to knock down the price from the seller who didn’t want to have to lug it all the way home again. This charming object is a solid steel, Japanese-made cashbox. Prewar, ca 1920-1930. It’s extremely solid and very strong. To unlock it, you need the key and the combination. It comes with space for banknotes, cheques, papers and cash. And two keys. One to unlock the box, and one to wind up the alarm-bells inside!

The box is extremely rugged and dare I say it, bomb-proof. The clockwork bell-alarm inside the box comes with two settings:

Setting #1: The bell rings whenever the box is unlocked. And that’s all it does.
Setting #2: The bell rings whenever the box is unlocked. Or, whenever the box is moved! So if you try and pick it up and run away with it, the alarm goes off, and it is LOUD! Kinda handy feature if I ever take this to an antiques fair and someone tries to steal the money I made from selling my bric-a-brac! Hahahaha!!

It’s an absolute charmer and certainly very cute. I’ve seen a similar one which belonged to a family friend, but they’re not as uncommon as the seller would have one believe. Although I have seen them in better, and in much worse condition than this, online.

Dad’s always wanted a safe – one of those huge old antique things which you could hide a dead body inside. Well it ain’t a safe, but it sure as hell is a strongbox. Without a key or some way to pick the lock, you couldn’t open this thing. And even then, you still need the combination (which thankfully, I do have!)

Maybe this’ll do until someone dies and leaves us a safe to inherit.

Curiouser and curiouser…here’s an identical strongbox owned by a family friend. I photographed this back in May, when I was visiting Penang, Malaysia: