Wheels of Time

It’s been a funny old couple of weeks.  Still without a car and plagued by a bout of insomnia, we have had an intense and sometimes stressful time (for reasons which I won’t bore you with here), in some shape or form rooted in the past.  For starters, not having been behind the wheel of a car since the Golf gave out, I have reluctantly had to get used to temporarily being ferried around by others (I’m too scared to drive Reaper, our van, other than on remote open roads) - something I’ve not experienced since 1990!

We have been up against it with our regular Hayburner advert deadline, having put all of our eggs in one basket by asking our first and only customer from Israel if he would be so kind as to send us some sunset photos of his beautiful 1967 Karmann Ghia, featuring his order of Voodoo Street stickers.  Naturally, Murphy’s Law intervened and his first order went astray.  A second parcel was dispatched and we spoke very nicely to Vic at Hayburner, who granted us an extra couple of days to pull it together.  

My dream car

In the nick of time, Shmuel’s photos appeared in our inbox.  

They are pretty stunning, wouldn’t you agree?  

Surf Permit Stickers available at voodoostreet.com

Voodoo Street Logo Script Sticker visible on the rear window

Our latest ad, featuring a dreamy image from this shoot, will appear in the next issue of Hayburner magazine, out in December.

On Wednesday evening, Gaz attended the local hotrod meet, having produced some promotional stickers for the group, which included language that would make your granny’s hair curl.  Unless you are driving a 1950s souped up car, you are relegated to the far end of the car park.  Gaz is just about tolerated in our 70s V8 Rover (he still has to park at the back), due to his interest in these hybrid beasts and enthusiasm for a great engine sound.  Unfortunately, despite an amazing turnout of retro vehicles, in freezing temperatures, this was the only image he managed to capture before the camera battery gave out.  

As part of our preparations for Chepstow, Gaz has been cleaning up the 1920s roadster bicycle, which he’s hoping to use as a promotional prop.  

He’s so in love with this bike, he’s started campaigning for it to be wall mounted inside.  I’m not wholly convinced, particularly as I’m now starting to think it’s haunted.  

With little room left in the workshop, Gaz is currently bringing it into the kitchen whenever it rains.  On each occasion, we’ve independently experienced unexplained knocking on the patio doors.  On one occasion, the fuse box tripped out, plunging us into darkness.

  

Meanwhile, I’ve been educating myself on producing and sending blanket newsletters (something we have long promised to our subscribers), re-thinking our clothing packaging, photographing and updating stock on our website (Blackberry hoodies are now available to buy online so lovers of all things purple, check out our new stock)...

….and working on promotion with the help of some natty editing tools and filters.  Warning:  We may go all psychedelic on yo' asses in the coming weeks.  Our mystery boxes are available now.  More details online if you're interested.  I'm not going to do a Christmas plug in a November blog.  I love Christmas but unless I stuff my ears with cotton wool and put on a blindfold during TV ad breaks, by mid December, I'm already over it.  The only Christmas song I could happily listen to at any time of year is "Fairytale of New York".




Our clothing may be new, but our influences are pretty retro.  My style is also pretty eclectic.  There are days – many days - when I would love to float around in a Kate Bush dress or Woodstock era hippy garb and other days when my style icon is Annie Hall.  

Then there are days like today, when I fully appreciate a more masculine look – a great pair of skinny jeans, teamed with an old Voodoo Street baseball tee and this 70s jacket I spotted in a charity shop for £6.00.  (Please ignore the sleep-deprived bags under my eyes!) 

Last week, we went back to school.  We accepted a request to attend a Q&A session on T-shirt design for a group of DT students tasked with designing a T-shirt inspired by Darwin’s theory of evolution.  

Armed with some clothing and sticker samples, we rocked up.  As we waited for lunch to end, the teacher, Miss Mason warned us: “They will probably come in and stare at you.”  She wasn’t wrong!  We had prepared answers to a range of questions covering everything from market research to the nitty gritty of the design process, but had omitted to prepare any kind of presentation, so my stomach did a little lurch when the teacher simply introduced us and then threw us to wolves/handed us over to the class. 

 I was always very shy at school and any kind of presentation would fill me with fear and unshakeable self-consciousness.  So with a niggling insomnia-induced headache and 45 pairs of eyes scrutinising our every move, we launched into an impromptu potted history of Voodoo Street, somehow without stumbling over our words or interrupting each other.  After passing round some samples, we took questions (and there were many), before leaving a bunch of free stickers for the kids.  

The great thing about kids is that the feedback is instantaneous.  We had a round of applause, a couple of high fives on the way out and some lovely follow-up messages from the teaching staff.  Why on earth I spent my 80s school days worrying so much about standing up in front of my peers is beyond me.  Well, they do say youth is wasted on the young!

Sticking with the 80s, in our downtime, we’ve also started watching the Netflix series “Stranger Things,” which is set in the decade of my childhood.  We're a bit late to the party, but loved the shades of Goonies/Stephen Spielberg evident in the first episode and I’m desperate for an opportunity to binge watch this before being exposed to the inevitable spoilers.  I’m hoping the rest of the series lives up to the first episode. 

We’re also limping through Blade Runner.  I’m embarrassed to say that this film has lain on our shelf for years and I don’t ever recall watching it.  I think I’m put off somewhat by the fact that I have the director’s cut, which removes the uplifting ending.  

Caleb's keen to see it before he catches the sequel, but for numerous reasons, we’ve only had short windows of opportunity to watch…and now I’ve got all sorts of TV vying for my attention; Peaky Blinders, The Apprentice, Detectorists to name a few.  

There’s also a Netflix series covering the relationship between Bette Davis and Joan Crawford starting in December.  We’re suddenly spoilt for choice.  Way better than all those “going-on-a-journey”, “this-is-the-best-thing-that’s-ever-happened-to-me”, formulaic, pantomime reality TV shows.  Not so great for curing insomnia.

E-bollocks! Let's Go Out!

Last week was a bugger.  There is no dressing up this fact.  We endured a number of sleepless nights thanks to those intent on making a fast buck from our artwork on certain well known seller platforms.  Aside from the blatant rip-offs, we had one seller in Israel, who just waded in there with a screenshot of our advert – complete with our name and copyright symbol emblazoned across the image, and advertised it for twice the price! 

An original advert.  Or is it?

I’ve lost count of the number of forms we have submitted, the number of emails sent, to little avail.  The lack of support for those experiencing copyright infringement is staggering.  I’ve become an overnight expert on the subject and have quoted bite sized, easily digested snippets of key legal points to faceless customer services departments.  I’ve reported item numbers, included links for comparisons, reiterated over and over again that a design does not have to be copied in its entirety to breach someone’s copyright, only to wake up to the same standard email requesting yet further clarification, that we’ve submitted the wrong form, or, my personal favourite, one stating that “You cannot copyright an idea.”  

Image, not subject to copyright

I have been forced to explain that a sticker for example, is not simply an idea, but a tangible product and that original graphics and phrases are covered by a copyright the moment they are written or created.  

Kinky Melon HQ

So, finding ourselves swimming against a tide of copyright issues, a day out with these lovely people, Vicky and Jon aka Kinky Melon’s Retro Boutique, was just what we needed.  We headed to Walsall Art Gallery, taking in the Turner Exhibition and getting ever-so-gently reprimanded for touching a piece resembling a bin bag full of rubbish.  Lunch was half a bottle of rose wine and a delicious vegan curry (I appear to have developed a dairy intolerance in my old age.  After all the ice cream and chocolate I’ve consumed in my lifetime, I would expect my body to have embraced it and my blood to be half cream).  Happy and sleepy (me), we walked back to our car, bathed in autumn sunshine.

I don’t know about you, but I wish autumn – the most vibrant season of the year for a nano second – would stick around for longer.  I’m talking about the magically short window of time when trees telepathically agree a plan to shed 90% of their leaves in 2 days.  I’m talking about clear blue skies, weather reporters referring to “unseasonably warm temperatures”, brightly coloured, odd shaped pumpkins (3 of which are sitting on our garden steps, waiting to go under the knife, including a white "Ghost Pumpkin"), windfall fruit and the associated pies, crumbles and experimental cider, Halloween, the first hint of wood smoke in the air, fireworks and gripping TV dramas.  I wish these autumn days would stick around until, say, 21^st May, at which point an extended period of unbroken sunshine will commence, cartoon blue birds will appear and someone will ensure that I am never more than a metre away from a mojito.

Spooky sky

Leaving aside yesterday’s blip, courtesy of Storm Ophelia and a daytime sky straight out of Star Wars, one downside to the elevated temperature is having to try on steampunk costumes.  

Photo courtesy of Shropshire Star:  Ironbridge covered in scaffolding

These outfits appear to comprise endless layers.  Dressing up in full steampunk was the last thing I felt like, but nevertheless found myself doing, on Saturday afternoon in Ironbridge.  Tourists from all over the globe visit this World Heritage Site.  We go for steampunk clothes and charity shop finds.

Today, after another sparring session with Ebay, I went through the seemingly disparate steampunk elements I’ve acquired so far and decided that they can all be worn together after all.  So, top to toe, this is what I’m going with at Chepstow Steampunk Winter Festival:-

The Top Hat.

Who doesn’t have a vintage top hat in their wardrobe?  Mine just needs some temporary embellishments.

The Jacket.

On loan from Kinky Melon, it is 80s, but don’t tell the hardcore steampunk brigade.  I don’t care – it’s cropped, velvet, has crazy shoulders and looks the part. 

The Blouse.

This Ralph Lauren Sport blouse was a steal at £4.50 from a charity shop in the village.  The ruffles were hard to resist and are a key element of the steampunk look.  It was the first item I bought.

The Dress.

With steampunk dresses often commanding prices upwards of £70, I snapped up this £25 number from a vintage store in Ironbridge.

The Tights.

Black and white vertical stripy tights for a fiver - Beetlejuice meets vintage circus.

The Boots.

Still undecided between red velvet and brown granny.

A Pair of Lace Gloves.

Gloves from Hat-Trix

Another £5 bargain from Etsy, which saves me the stress of digging out my cobweb covered sewing machine, shredding a piece of lace, swearing at said machine and crying hysterically, before going online and order a £5 paid from Etsy.

Now all I have to do is steampunk up everyone else in this house.

Blustery Busfest: The Premier Experience

Brooding skies

With the horrendous news footage of Hurricane Irma fresh in our minds and a pretty iffy UK forecast in prospect, I was feeling quite relieved that we had taken the decision to book into Malvern’s Premier Inn for the weekend of Busfest.  

After the school run on Friday, we headed over to Malvern to join Gaz.  Thankfully, we dodged any thunder and lightning.  I must have been really awful in a previous life.  I hate driving when there is lightning.  I duck every time there is a flash, just as though I am anticipating being struck down by a thunder bolt.  Not the best approach when in charge of a moving vehicle.

Makeshift Flag

Under any other circumstances, it’s hard not to relax, driving along the Worcester Road - the vantage point being the stunning peaks of the Malvern hills.  However, Busfest is the world’s biggest VW Transporter show and attracts visitors from all over the globe.  You usually hit the ground running, fueled by adrenaline, conversation and coffee, until it’s time to pack away and then the wave of tiredness hits...  

Fortunately for Gaz, Friday had been a slow and steady day for trade, as the masses were busy arriving on site and keen to set up before the weather turned moody.

I had a walk around and caught up with Anna (IseaSurf).  We talked screen printing, coastal living and sinus infections (hope you’re feeling better Anna!)  

Of course, I didn’t leave empty handed and purchased a pair of funky mermaid leggings (third from right).  That’s the beauty of the festival season.  Even if you forget your suitcase, you can always pull together an individual outfit for a reasonable price.  

We spent the evening catching up with friends, but this time, when the air temperature became distinctly autumnal, we headed off to our luxury hideaway – a trading estate in Malvern.  Doesn’t sound very glam does it?  But it was quiet and the beds really are as comfy as Lenny Henry says in the adverts. 

Malvern digs

So, somewhat refreshed and distinctly perkier that we might usually be early on a Saturday morning, we headed back to the showground for an exceptional day’s trading.  Our neighbours, Retro Classic Clothing, had kept an eye on our stand during our brief morning absence as we were en route to the site.  It also gave them chance to exact revenge on Gaz (more on that later) after he initiated what I can only describe as “Sticker Slap Guerilla Warfare.”  In short, Gaz was slowly but surely re-branding their stand as Voodoo Street by covering every available surface with our promotional stickers.

We met the hardcore VW festival-goers and regular Voodoo Street visitors (always a pleasure), but also, being Busfest, encountered people from all over the world.  One of my favourite moments was during an unintentional music-off with the stand opposite.  We had Joy Division’s Love Will Tear Us Apart blasting our of our BruteBox; the opposition something very different.  They cranked up their volume a little more than was necessary, much to the irritation of one German visitor, who was clearly enjoying our song choice.  He was moved to poke his head through our gazebo to announce, in heavily accented English: “I love ze Joy Division!” and like the scene out of Sparticus, prompted several other voices to echo his sentiment. 

The Invisible Man

Gaz also had a bizarre exchange with a Mexican, who promised him that when he returned to Mexico, “You and I will do good things with Voodoo Street.”

By Saturday evening, we were fit to drop.  Gaz doesn't sleep well at the best of times (I on the other hand am usually out as soon as my head hits the pillow).  A visit to our neighbours camping pitch (complete with inflatable sofas) and another quick catch up with friends and we were off to enjoy the spoils of our visit to Morrisons (wine, cheese, vintage cider, crisps, brownies) and sit back for a night of terrible Saturday night TV in our hotel room.  How rock and roll are we?  If I could have, I would have thrown the TV out of the window, but we were on the ground floor, and the windows don't open.

Sunday morning was slow to start, a lot of day visitors being put off by the weather.  Caleb and I bailed at around 2 pm, personally escorted off site by one of the stewards.  Gaz held the fort until closing time. 

After we’d caught up on online orders and enquiries, we were enjoying a couple of drinks, when, in the midst of a conversation about the weekend, Gaz spotted that Retro Classic Clothing had sticker slapped his trainers.  He was so dog tired, he only spotted their handywork after he’d paraded around our local supermarket in them.  You guys!!!

Next weekend it’s Vdubs in the Valley and we are praying to the sun gods that the weather improves.  I’m hoping that it’s not a bad omen that Gaz’s offer of a fresh, hot pasty to a homeless person today was met with: “I can’t eat steak and ale.”  Until next time!

Bikes, Boxes and Blogs

OK, so it’s been a while since I posted and today is the day that I make good on my new year’s resolution to bore you, sorry, blog more frequently.

Running a business, child containment, crappy day-to-day domestic stuff and maintaining sanity and fitness is a struggle many of us deal with.  Waiting for the perfect week to blog about is never going to happen and there aren’t enough hours in the day to labour over the words to write, so this week’s as good as any to let you in on the random events, irritations and lifestyle of the three of us here at Voodoo Street.

Monday dawned with the usual mixed feelings; a new week in prospect and all the potential that brings, coupled with the knowledge that we face the nightmarish back-bothering task of lugging our entire stock down from the loft (once quite a nice room, now a dumping ground for Voodoo Street’s growing collection of stock, skulls and curiosities) to the front room and again outside into our VW van ready for Bus Types this weekend.  An intense 30 minutes swim at the local pool helped reinvigorate the senses (or dull them just enough to cope with the week in prospect!)

Tuesday was a race against time to supply our friend and super talented BMX rider Pinder, with some Voodoo Street tees.  He had been asked at short notice, to film a video for Rockermini BMX in India, but we all failed miserably with Pinder stuck at work in Birmingham after 9 pm having still not packed for his 3 am flight.  Thankfully he still has enough Voodoo swag to rep us out there and we’ll hopefully share some of his updates.

In between, I’ve been assisting the boy with SATS homework, babysitting tortoises (!), booking a ferry to the Outer Hebrides (more of that at a later date), talking Gaz down from finishing off our complete tool (not in a good way) of a printer with a lump hammer, tackling a gremlin on Facebook which has served to arbitrarily delete our posts, ironing stock, updating our web store and photographing an array of items we have accumulated in recent months, some of which might be on offer at Bus Types. This Packaway Stove might be on offer for example.

Bus Types is in Oswestry, one of Britain’s oldest settlements, and in keeping with Voodoo Street’s trading history, no doubt set to be the scene of apocalyptic weather for the next few days!

As I type, the living areas of our home have been sacrificed to boxes, filing cabinets, paperwork and our SMEG fridge door sticker display.

 

I have accepted that until Monday evening, our home is more likely to feature on TV show “The Horders Next Door,” rather than gracing the pages of Ideal Home magazine.

Today, with Gaz organising stickers, lifting boxes, ensuring Dr Jones, our tattooed mannequin, is ready for business, I’m wrestling with the more important business of what to wear.

Always keen to rep the brand, I shall be donning one of our logo beanies at the very least.  But those of you who know me, also know my penchant for vintage and that I like to mix things up a bit.  So, given the forecast is damp and chilly, these are going to be my key pieces:  Voodoo Street Logo Beanie, Doc Martens, ageing nicely and vintage faux fur jacket.  I might also throw in one of the maxi dresses acquired from our trader friends Kinky Melon’s Retro Boutique alongside my jeans.

If it ain’t nailed down, it’s going in a box or a suitcase!  Til next time. x