Throwaway Thursday: cassette cases

An occasional series that I might also title, 'Things in my house that are basically rubbish but I am a borderline hoarder and cannot bring myself to throw them out'. The idea is to memorialise such things here and then bin them for good.

In case you hadn't guessed, I've been doing some clearing out over the summer. My main aim in life is to get to a situation where everything I own and use can be stored away in a sensible and accessible location. Thus, I decided that keeping things I use when travelling (rubber ring, mosquito plug in, sun hat, adapter plugs) in a box under the spare room bed was not supportive of this goal and I decided to clear out/consolidate the boxes in the office, to make room for this stuff. 

As part of this, I found a new home for my old cassette tapes. These lived in my school shoe bag and, in the last round of clearing out, I could not part with them. Before I opened the bag, I reorganised the box of DVDs that I brought home 10 years ago, when I left my last place of employment, and got rid of about a dozen DVDs so I'd have room for the cassettes.

I know, it just doesn't have to make sense though, OK?

Space cleared, I opened the bag. Ah, the cassette mix I bought in Tenerife in 1996! My Now double edition tapes! And...oh wait, this seems to be a tape recording of my Uncle and Aunt's wedding from before I was born, they got divorced at least 20 years ago, I probably don't need that. Oh but my mix tapes!...but wait...there are no tapes in these cases.

No. Tapes. In. These. Cases.

OK, now this is where it not making sense actually is a problem. Why did I choose to keep these? 

Short answer: I no longer have. They're easily recycled as they are all plastic. I took pictures of the carefully-recorded track listing in each one and can make myself playlists so I can relive the Walkman days. Well, some of them anyway. Having dived deep down a hole on YouTube, I can confirm there's a very good reason why I don't remember some of these songs.

Throwaway Thursday: electric toothbrushes

An occasional series that I might also title, 'Things in my house that are basically rubbish but I am a borderline hoarder and cannot bring myself to throw them out'. The idea is to memorialise such things here and then bin them for good.

A complicated feeling, this one. Mother Hand bought me these toothbrushes for Christmas and it was not very long ago. I asked for one; she picked up a two-pack by accident, which undoubtedly cost her a lot more money, as Mr Z pointed out a day or two later. I used them both: one while the other charged. 

At some point, though, I got seduced by an online advert for Suri. I was excited about the prospect of travelling with no additional chargers and being able to send brush heads back for recycling, so I bought one, intending to just use it for a travel toothbrush. But then I liked it, a lot, so I stopped using the old ones. They have sat on the bathroom windowsill now for a year. 

So - a complicated thing to throw away. Firstly, I have daughter guilt about throwing away something Mother Hand spent a fair amount of money on. Secondly, they're not dead yet, though the rubberised handles have no gone sticky with disuse. Thirdly, they are small electricals and, although I will put them out for recycling, I'm not 100% convinced the small electricals I send with the kerb collection actually get recycled. 

This is why I have so much stuff in my house, isn't it? I will tell myself (1) a present, once given, has done its job and what happens to it next is nothing to do with the original; and (2) and (3) one day, they will need to be binned. Nobody is going to be horrified at not being offered the opportunity to use my second hand electric toothbrush. Waiting longer won't make them more recyclable. 

They can go in the green box for the next collection. I absolve myself of any guilty feelings. 

Throwaway Thursday: the purple folder

An occasional series that I might also title, 'Things in my house that are basically rubbish but I am a borderline hoarder and cannot bring myself to throw them out'. The idea is to memorialise such things here and then bin them for good.

I can't tell you how long I lusted after this folder. I saw it, this exact shade of shiny lilac, in a Ryman, circa 1994. There was no Ryman in Portsmouth. I had no need for a ring binder - I hauled all of my notes around in a lever arch file that I had plastered with bits I'd cut out of magazines, with notes from my friends written on the inside covers. (That makes me a little sad because I'd love to read those notes again). 

With no easy access to a Ryman and no need for a new folder, this folder remained unpurchased for a long time. My lovely Mother Hand tried to get me one like it, but it was never the right purple or it wasn't shiny or it didn't have white insides or some other absolutely miniscule detail that was exceptionally important to me as an ungrateful swine of a teenager. 

I can't remember when I actually bought this; it would either have been when I was studying for A-level Business Studies in the year before I went to uni, or while I was at uni. Or perhaps it was after. I don't remember the exact, choirs of angels, halo'd in gold moment when I finally parted with hard-earned cash for it. But I remember very clearly the visceral desire I felt for it, over a period of years. I'd visit it in Ryman every time I went past one. This has meant that I haven't thrown it out, even though it is faded, and scratched, and has lain empty for a number of years, since I decided notes on educational ICT from 2002 were probably never going to be useful again. No, I have hoarded it. 

It turns out, though, this is actually from Woolworths. Somewhere along the way, my Ryman dream merged with something more accessible and the lack of stickers, notes and otherwise suggests it arrived in my life some distance past full-time education. So it is a cuckoo. It is not the totem I had convinced myself it was. 

I'm not throwing it out though; it can come to school and start a new life as a sixth former's day folder. It, too, deserves stickers and graffiti from friends. 

Throwaway Thursday - Miss Selfridge body spray

An occasional series that I might also title, 'Things in my house that are basically rubbish but I am a borderline hoarder and cannot bring myself to throw them out'. The idea is to memorialise such things here and then bin them for good.

Another scent memory: Miss Selfridge body spray, in Heart. 

I was never massively into body spray. We all had a thing for Impulse O2, obviously, being 90s children, but even then I was fairly sparing in my application. I have strong memories of Zoe standing and spraying herself in a circular motion, like she was creating a tornado of the scent, which is probably why that scent is just an immediate transport back to that time (or would be, if it were still available). But as a very sweaty person, I was mainly using Right Guard in some less overpowering scent, in a desperate attempt to stop my arm pits from soaking all my outfits - a fight I have long since given up on. 

Thus, I don't really remember using this body spray. It's about a third full. I loved Miss Selfridge cosmetics and still appreciate the aluminium packaging, which might bear responsibility for the scent lasting as long as it has. I have no idea what the scent is, but it takes me back to late 90s, possibly as I was moving out of home at 17, living in a bedsit in London and going clubbing with my boyfriend's friends every week; maybe even a bit later, and uni. 

It smells of vanilla and then maybe a bit fruity, like jelly sweets, or maybe something a bit floral (I'm terrible at doing scent notes) - it isn't exactly edible but it smells vaguely juicy. It is funny that I have held on to it for so long because, I have to say, sniffing it doesn't flood me with a happy feeling. I don't know what it is. That gap year before uni was not my happiest year, so I guess that would kind of make sense. 

Just had a full on stare for a couple of minutes, thinking of those nights out that this scent probably accompanied. Thank god, thank all deities, that digital cameras and social media were not a thing. I'd either have had a lot less fun at the time, due to a shred of self-preservation; or (more likely) I'd have had a lot less fun afterwards, when it all went up online. 

Throwaway Thursday - wedding moisturiser

An occasional series that I might also title, 'Things in my house that are basically rubbish but I am a borderline hoarder and cannot bring myself to throw them out'. The idea is to memorialise such things here and then bin them for good. 

Look how foul this is. 

Witness: the thick layer of dust over the whole top of the bottle; the lid that seems to have split in a place other than where it should open; the apparently solid layer of moisturiser on top of the remaining cm on product. This slipped out from behind some other bottles on my bathroom storage last week and is now headed to the recycling. 

Where did this come from and why has it lasted so long?

When I got married, back in 2006, I was deep into the Lush forum life and doing mystery swaps for cosmetics in this country and the US. I believe this Bath and Body Works Peach Melba moisturiser arrived in one such swap; there is a chance that I bought it myself but it wouldn't necessarily be my first choice of scent, though I do love it. My first experience with B&BW was in 1998 when I went for Camp America, coming home with a thick body moisturiser in the scent Country Apple. I don't think I would have bought myself a lotion like this. 

This scent is quite heavily associated with my honeymoon. I've got a fair few things knocking around from that era that should be gone, really, but remain because of the scent association. On my wedding day, I had a long bath with a Lush Bottle of Bubbly, and washed and moisturised with B&BW Mango Sorbetto. I wore Black Phoenix Alchemy Labs Stardust perfume, both for the name (inextricably linked to the beginning of my relationship with Mr Z) and the fact it has white musk in it, of which Mr Z is a fan (tell me you grew up in the 80s without telling me). On honeymoon, I brought a Lush buttercream that smelled of roses and geranium (I think it was originally called Amandopondo) and this moisturiser. 

It all sounds quite overwhelming; hopefully it wasn't too much so for the people around me. I chose things very carefully, that I hadn't used much before, because I knew the scent memories would bring me back to that day. And they do. One sniff of this and I'm back in Lake Garda.

That's why it's not yet in the recycling. Honestly, it is so gross, but it does still smell of my honeymoon. How does one hold on to a scent? 

Also kind of miss the mystery swaps. I'd add them to my 'golden age of the internet' list. 

Throwaway Thursday - the golden glitter

An occasional series that I might also title, 'Things in my house that are basically rubbish but I am a borderline hoarder and cannot bring myself to throw them out'. The idea is to memorialise such things here and then bin them for good. 

Boy, do I have a treat for you. I present - some golden craft glitter that I bought in the 90s. 

As you can see, there is not much left and it has lost its lid. Why do I still give it house room? Well, for one thing, these are the OG microplastics and how one safely disposes of these things now is anybody's guess. For another, I have some fond memories of it. 

I used to use this as a glitter eyeliner, which makes me want to cry now, and not just as a contact lens wearer. How did I not go blind? I also used to rub cocoa butter on my limbs and then sprinkle it liberally over myself before going out clubbing - I have a vivid memory of doing this before going to some 70s club round the back of Oxford Street, when I wore my PVC dress and we took many pictures which Justine never had developed. The next day, the guy from work I'd sort of been seeing picked me up from work and took me on the infamous worst date of my life (I am bound to have written about it on here before) which involved driving from Brent Cross to the Dartford Bridge and back, and that was it; I had managed about two hours of sleep and was still covered in glitter, because my house didn't have a shower and I hadn't had time for a bath. It was our last date, obviously. I like to think some of that glitter stayed on his passenger seat for the rest of the time he owned the car, it would be some small restitution. 

The last time I can remember using the glitter like this was on this night in Ibiza in 2002, when we went to see Dave Pearce at Eden -

Shortly after this picture was taken, the front barman picked me up for another photo, which sadly I can't find (I think it involved some unflattering leg angles though, honestly, at my current age and weight, I cannot believe I could find any picture of me from 2002 unflattering); when he put me down again he was mystified as to what had happened to his arms, which were covered in a mixture of this glitter and Lush's King of Skin. Good luck getting that off, mate. 

That creepy barman on the right (the one I am leaning away from) grabbed me and tried to kiss me when I was the last person in the bar one night, so grim: an experience that lightly taints the pictures from this trip. 

Anyway. I won't use this as a cosmetic anymore, now that I respect my skin and eyes; I did use some of it for making photo frames, back when I used to do that; half of it spilled in the top drawer of the filing cabinet; what possible use could I have for what is left? 

It is pretty, though. 

Throwaway Thursday - the Banana Republic tee

The first in an occasional series that I might also title, 'Things in my house that are basically rubbish but I am a borderline hoarder and cannot bring myself to throw them out'. The idea (and I think I've done this before) is to memorialise such things here and then bin them for good. 

Up first: the Banana Republic tee. 

I have had one of these t-shirts in my wardrobe since 1992. Father Hand bought me a light grey marl version with a dark green logo when I visited him in Florida over Christmas that year. I wore it throughout my teen years. 

School trip to Venice, 1993.

(In 2004 I was coming to the end of a phase of trying to get my picture taken with as many policemen as possible. I don't remember why I got into this phase, but I do have a lot of pictures of me with policemen.) 

When I returned to live with Father Hand in 2000, I came back with (I think) three such t-shirts, having worn the original into rags. I had them in dark blue, dark red and dark grey. The dark blue and dark red are both long gone but this grey one remained. 

It has reached the end of its life as a t-shirt. It was worn to holes around the neck, hem and underarm stitching. I put it on at the gym last week and almost had second thoughts about wearing it, partly because who goes to the gym in rags and because one catch on a handlebar or weight and I feared the whole thing would rip away from me and I would then have to stop going to that gym. So, I washed it one last time and then chopped it neatly into squares to use as mini whiteboard rubbers at school. In fact, I did that before I remembered to take a picture. But I'm keeping the logo. 

Happily, due to the world we live in now, I found another one online second-hand for under a tenner, so that's basically an unbroken ownership streak of 34 years for this t-shirt style. 

(Update on this: said t-shirt was apparently shop-lifted out of the shop the day before I bought it, so my streak is broken. If anybody sees one for sale...)

Pigeon attack, Venice, 1993.