WOW – World of Wearable Art

Billed as Nelson’s “Must See” visitor attraction, that’s where we went on a sunny Sunday afternoon.  Robin was there to see the Classic Car selection, and as we purchased our (discounted senior) tickets, he was told that he really should check out the clothes as well.  Interesting enough, he admitted that he was pleased he did.  Sadly, no photography was permitted once we were though the gallery doors.  The first Wearable Art Show was organised by Suzie Moncrief back in 1987 and attracted 50 entries.  It grew from strength to strength, and is now run by a team of professionals who share Suzie’s vision and dream.

We sat and watched a film of the 2011 Wearable Arts show in the comfortable small theatre. The entries were split into different categories, and artfully choreographed.  I particularly enjoyed the New Zealand inspired section, and the models shared the stage with a flock of sheep, with a group of farmers happily singing Fred Dagg’s Gumboot song, dressed in their black singlets and gumboots, of course. 

Leaving the theatre, we walked into the world of illuminated illusion.  The costumes in this darkened part of the museum were brought to life under the ultra violet lighting.

Through another doorway we were greeted by the sound of clanking mechanism as costumes moved slowly past on the carousel - the  stage was mirrored so that the we could see the back of the garments reflected.  Other creations were displayed around the walls, or hanging from the ceiling.

To be quite truthful, I am not really a fan of the more “way out” creations.  But they were beautifully displayed, and seeing the film of the 2011  show made me appreciate what a spectacular stage show the Wearable Arts must be.

Found amongst the classic car display

Moving to another part of the museum we were in car territory, much more to Robin’s taste.  He was in seventh heaven as he gazed at the various models of classic cars on display.  Photographs were permitted in this part of the museum, and dotted here and there between the fabulous cars were a few costumes from earlier years.  Out came my camera, quick as a flash.  Using number plates and yellow road signs, these two creations are certainly “car related”, wouldn’t you say?

Number plates and a hub cap

Reminiscent of AA Road Signs

There were many beautiful cars on display for the petrol heads, and I rather liked this “Best of British” E Type Jaguar.  You wouldn’t misplace this in a parking lot, would you?

Union Jack Jaguar

The WOW Museum is well worth a visit to anyone travelling through Nelson.  Check out more of these fabulous classic cars on our Travel Blog:  www.romanyrambler.blogspot.com

That’s a big Mangle

Here we are staying at Motueka for a few days as we continue to travel around the South Island, and we have been enjoying glorious sunny weather.  A bit chilly in the mornings and evenings, but that’s to be expected at this time of year.  “Mot”, as it is called by the locals, is a pleasant town with a rather laid back feel to it, and the climate is just right for growing hops (for beer making) apples, pears, kiwi fruit and grapes.  The main street has it’s fair share of trendy shops and cafes, and a nice little museum which we visited today.  Once again, some vintage underwear caught my eye, this time a pair of child’s pin tucked pantaloons edged with lace hanging up on a clothesline.  Somebody’s mother would have spent hours stitching these for her little girl many years ago, I’m sure.

Pin tucked pantaloons

Close by was a huge mangle, and bars of hand made soap.  There was even a recipe on how to make your own soap.  Surely only wealthy households could afford to buy one of these solid machines, as I imagine such a piece of laundry equipment would not be cheap to manufacture? 

A mighty big mangle

There were no old quilts tucked away in this museum, but I did spot a pretty vintage patchwork cushion, in blue, cream and mauve.  Wonder where this came from?

Patchwork cushion

Motueka had a very busy port in the early years and has quite a family connection, on my mother’s side of the family.   It was in this town that a young man on the Green side of the family decided he didn’t want to continue sailing the high seas and jumped ship.  The story goes that he  hid under the voluminous skirts of the publican’s wife while the search was on for him.  Once the ship had set sail he was free to start a new life in the colonies and did quite well for himself in business, married and had quite a large number of children.  There is even a local street named after him, just around the corner from where we are camping.  One of his grandsons (my great grandfather) travelled to Martinborough in the North Island and set up his boot and shoe shop.  But we never did hear what the publican’s wife thought of that young man hiding in such an intimate place while the police conducted their search.

I feel like a new woman

We have been travelling down here in the South Island for weeks and weeks, 11 weeks I think, and I was badly in need of a haircut.  You know what it’s like, the last haircut grows out and everything seems to “hang”.  I had tried a couple of hairdressers in towns recently, and they either couldn’t fit me in during the time available, or wanted to charge a king’s  ransom to cut my hair.  Luckily one of the campers here where we are currently staying is a hairdresser, and offered both of us a reasonably priced haircut.  Just what I needed.  She had a pretty little Maltese called Sophie who took quite a fancy to Robin.  “She’s a man’s dog”, we were told.  She barked at Robin, looked up at him while she lay down and wagged her tail, almost saying, “come and play with me”. 

Sophie the Maltese

Our haircuts were done outside in the sunshine.  Snip, snip, snip went the scissors, and I was all done.

Haircut in the sunshine

Then it was Robin’s turn to sit in the chair.  Not only did he get a haircut, but a beard trim too.  At least he won’t look like Father Christmas with that bushy beard now.

Just a bit off under here

Now that’s better, we both feel presentable again.  “I feel like a new woman”, I told Robin.  “So do I’, he replied, “where can I find one?”   I’ve news for him, the only new woman he can have is me!

That’s better – new haircuts all round

Embroidered Treasures for fundraisers

How lucky I was to get a glimpse of WW1 and WW11 embroidered treasures on display at the Murchison Musuem – I was told they had been  put out as part of an Anzac display.  The autographed flag was to raise money for the “Buller Sick and Wounded Fund” in 1915.  The flag was embroidered by Mrs Bird with the names of people who gave a donation for the worthy cause.  The flag was auctioned and bought by D W Oxnam, and was later loaned to the musuem by Mrs Coralie Canton.

Embroidered Flag from 1915

The embroidered cloth hails from 1940.  For one shilling each, people could have their names embroidered on it, to raise funds for the 1940 Queen Carnival.  It was won by Aileen Rait (now Aileen Grainger) who loaned it to the musuem.

Fund raiser embroidered cloth

It is wonderful that such items are kept locally and displayed from time to time.  I was thrilled to see these pieces of local history.

Any guesses?

Any guesses of what I am doing?  I’ll give you a clue – pegs clipped on to the bottom of my tee-shirt, and my pink bucket firmly clasped in my hand.  That’s right – I’m doing even more holiday washing by hand.  After hanging it outside in the sunshine on the handy camp clothesline, the sky clouded over and down came the rain.  There was only one thing to do, gather the washing up, visit the laundrette up town and spend a little while reading out of dates magazines while the washing tumbled around in the big commercial drier.

    It’s wash day once more

I’m glad I’m not a miner’s wife

“The Bearded Miners” – now, how could I resist checking them out at Reefton?  A group of men calling themselves the Bearded Miners, entertain visitors at the replica 1800s miners hut in the main street of Reefton.  They are full of interesting stories, but oh, that hut!  A dirt floor, daylight coming in through the chinks of the timber, it must have been a tough old life indeed high up on the hills as the men fossiked for gold.  The only covering over the windows was a couple of sacks nailed up over the opening.  Cooking was done on a pot hanging over the open fire, which would be the only way to keep the cold at bay, and probably most of the heat would escape up the chimney, and through the holes in the walls.  I’m glad I was not a miner’s wife back in the old days.

Here I am with two of the “Bearded Miners of Reefton”

So after my chat with the miners and a good look around their drafty wooden hut, my own bearded fellow and I went across the road for a tasty lunch, wild pork and bacon pies.  Wonder if one of those miners had been out shooting the wild pork for the cafe?

Hello Reefton Quilters

It just goes to show that “Quilters are Everywhere”.  Sitting outside on the main street in Reefton on a cold and wet afternoon I came across two ladies.  They were selling raffle tickets for their members, “The Grey Valley Patchwork and Quilting Group”.  Many of them had worked sewing blocks for the raffle quilt, stitching it together, then doing the quilting.  The Drunkard’s Path blocks were stitched in various greys and the border was a horse print in shades of grey, black and burgundy.  The cushions piled on top were also raffle prizes.   

Quilters in Reefton

So of course I stopped to chat and buy a couple of raffle tickets.  The ladies told me that their members come from quite a wide area of the region, and that the nearest shop selling patchwork fabric was many miles away.  I was surprised to find out that they knew (and had visited) my “local” shop, Thimbles and Threads.  And also the last shop I had visited, By Hoki Quilt shop in Hokitika.  It was lovely to be able to have a bit of quilty talk with fellow stitchers, and who knows, I just might strike it lucky with those raffle tickets!

And did you know that Reefton’s claim to fame is that is was the first town in New Zealand  to produce it’s own electricity. I’m not sure if the vintage looking street lights are original, but don’t they look lovely and old fashioned? 

Street light in Reefton, first place in NZ to get electricity