I’m throwing myself into World War II re-enactment mode. My son will be dressing up as an evacuee tomorrow with the rest of Year 6 at his primary school. I’ve booked him in at the barber’s for a short-back-and-sides this afternoon. There’ll be a brown label round his neck – held on with green garden twine – and he’ll be wearing some old wire spectacles, a hand-knit sweater (shame it’s not a fair-isle tank-top), short trousers (which he hates) and he’ll be grasping an old leather suitcase and his teddy for dear life. I’m supposed to dress up appropriately in order to wave him off, chipper and bright, with not a tear shed. Keep the home fires burning…
I have quite a few war items of haberdashery which I hope to show the kids, but I thought I’d give you a sneak preview.
Nothing flashy or majorly propagandist. No images of Hitler or reminders to keep your trap shut while you’re darning. But some good, honest examples of the austerity environment, and how ingenious manufacturers managed to reduce packaging while not skimping on the quality or quantity of the product itself.
For example, the two Coats thread spools above carry the same amount of thread. I don’t know about you, but I am really tickled by the idea of a “temporary spool”; it holds the same surreal place in my affections as “vanishing day cream” or “universal primer”.
While Coats’ spools got taller and thinner – much like the average land girl, I would guess – Sylko’s spools got squatter. The boxes shrank, but still held 12 spools of 100 yards of thread, thanks to the clever folk at Dewhurst’s. Here I must add the disclaimer that I’m not entirely sure which war the smaller Sylko box was made during, so it might be even older. If anyone knows, do get in touch. There’s a picture of the wartime lettering on the side of the box here.
The British Snap people had a geometrical field day, arranging their haberdashery into lines instead of triangles. If only today’s packagers would take note.
Little Scraplet will be carrying this authentic World War II blanket in his case.
It belonged to my mother-in-law and has been in constant use since she had it as a girl. It still sports its wartime utility label, her girlhood name tag (in lovely red deco lettering) and evidence of mending. But I’ll come back to wartime mending another time. There are some more pictures of this blanket, not to mention more of my haberdashery, on Flickr. I’ll also come back to the great little Make Do And Mend book at a later date.