Sorry, this item sold. You may also like:
♥ Each collage pack is different... They are mostly 1940s and '50s and sometimes a few early '60s when I can get them.
♥ These are original illustrations, not copies or scans...
♥ ♥ SOME FEEDBACK from buyers:
"Loved, loved, loved this selection! It may have been my favorite of the 4 I purchased from this seller, which is saying a lot because I loved all the packages. Excellent -- thank you!"
"I was so pleased with the illustrations. They were even better than I imagined. Thank you."
"The pages you sent are wonderful! I can't wait to start incorporating them into some of my pieces. Thank you!"
"Amazing! This seller went way above and beyond on my order- many thanks!"
(¸.·´ (¸.·´♥ To see fun and funky handcrafted jewelry, handmade collage cards, handmade journals, old books and prints and more, click here: http://www.etsy.com/shop/StoriesDivinations
(¸.·´ (¸.·´♥ A Big Thank you to P for her story: "My mother,well what can i say...she cooked occasionally ( with her black pillbox on ala Jackie....she slept in her slip (in case of fire)she had so many friends that we would go to visit on afternoons, it was an endless, dizzying array of experiences,,,,i guess i must have just hovered around in the wings like an understudy soaking up all the nuances of everyone's decor and aromas and styles of dress...i was a willing participant. there were blonds and brunettes and redheads....some with horrible curtains and doilies...some with absolutely ugly lighting...this always bothered me the most....well...because we were at the movies several times a week...and i much prefered the east coast decor to the midwest. after all, my mother took me to see "gone with the wind " when i was three and a half...I immediately fell in love with Vivien Leigh after she torn down those green velvet drapes and made herself that incredible gown..Really now, you would think i would fall for Clark Gable.but noooooooo. she took me to so many,many movies and most of them had clever,handsome women......all of whom were plotting something in gorgeous suits and breathtaking gowns and memorable shoes.....forget Manolo Blanic....he's small potatoes....now did she ever say...my,my,maybe my little girl should not be seeing all these movies? my first movie memory is when my baba rolled and rolled down the cement floor of the movies on jefferson ave. across from Belle Isle in detroit.....how old could i have been????? with a baba and a pretty good memory...sorry, don't remember what was playing...so, I always felt like I was watching a different story depending on whose friend or relatives house we were at. all of the vignettes seemed to star my mother because she was very "high strung" as they used to say. My grandmother said it was because she was artistic...well, she could certainly shop and come up with incredible get-ups, all in technicolor,of course.....one time.....she took my big sisters' army check from her soldier husband and bought about 15 yards of this breathtaking white peau de soir and cut some for the mahogany dining table and put thick plate glass over it...the rest became two drapes for the windows overlooking the big oak tree in front of our apartment...our apartment,yes.....always apartments....some 12 or 13 apartments before i was six years old...my dad was not there then,so maybe we had to keep moving,,,,I've often wondered... in one of these apartments, i was almost kidnapped,in another tried to smoke her friends cigarette when they went into the kitchen for a moment, in another i almost got on a bus with no underwear when she was taking me for a screen test....Oh my.....the tales i could tell if there was not this damn deadline....in another apartment,we left the first night because she thought she saw a bedbug....in another when i asked to eat the whole carton of ice cream, she let me and i promptly threw up....in another; i got a terrible scolding, because i poked pins in her hot water bottle..... i much preferred her wealthy friends. their homes were so interesting with nooks and crannies and hor d' oerves and lemonade on the porch.....my mother told me always to take just one chocolate,which one of her friends always had on a tea table.....so way they wandered off, chit-chatting. I would look around like a terrorist and quickly snatch one from the under layer....and perhaps again if the fates smiled on me that day....she had a friend we called Uncle Louie,who became very sick.....he always wore dark grey pinstripe suits,a cane and spats...does anyone even know what "spats" are? he was just a soft-spoken gentleman whose son took everything he had when he became ill, so he stayed with us in our ( yes,yet another)apartment...well,they came and took him to the crazy house called Eloise Hospital way far away....it housed mental patients,old people.and poor,poor people.....no one in the whole , big city ever wanted to end up in ELOISE hosp.........well, we were going to visit him on this Easter sunday.....drive all the way out there to this grey, dismal place on a grey, dismal day... well, i didn't care, i had my chocolate bunny about 15 inches high. i was set for about a week of nibbling,rain or shine....as we get dressed for the drive,my mother turns to me,in her black pillbox hat and black pumps and says, "darlene, I think you should give Uncle Louie your chocolate rabbit...time stopped...my eyes would not blink, there was stillness all around me.....my bunny?????? yes, it would be very nice for him to have some chocolate... it was done..... in the back seat of the car with everyone feeling so saintlike for visiting the old man, surely they would not notice me bending down quietly down nibbling the ears in teeny,tiny bites, ever so quietly so as not to rattle the celophane too much.when we got there, and passed by the long rows of beds, one filled with more anonymity than the previous, i began to feel a cloak of hot guilt creep over me(it;'s still there,actually)as we approached his bed...the ward attendants wore white shirts and white pants and seemed very foreboding and large....no color....just white walls, white sheets,white uniforms.....well, that;s all i remember of that Easter!!!!!!!!!!!!!!that was just the beginning of remembering all the things my mother would give away........my stuff mostly...she always knew a poor family or some equally strange need of someones.....there are so many more mom stories, but this is enough for now , for the first three or four years.....hope it's technicolor wherever you are now,Zeenie................."
(¸.·´ (¸.·´♥ Many thanks to P for her wonderful story:
"I have this one memory of my Grandpa Phil that has always been sort of a sweet treasure in the pockets of my brain. When I read your request for stories of these sorts, I flipped through all the various fathers, grandfathers, father-in-laws in my small sphere, but many of these stories are too long, too goofy, bitter sweet, or just weird. This story is only fabulous.
My Grandpa Phil died when I was around 9 and because he lived a couple states away, though I was heartbroken, I wasn’t devastated by the loss and instead he has remained in my mind vibrant and alive through the stories of my mother and grandmother and his trouble making son-in-law (you know, my dad!) As I go through my life and I find my connection and place within my family, past, present, future, far and near, I wonder how my life would be if I had been given a little more time to be his granddaughter. I wonder, if possible, that I could have turned out any more clever, wiser, sassier? He really was an exceptional man.
I have used a lot of my 300 words up and I haven’t told you my story, and that’s because the story is so simple it shouldn’t even try to be 300 words. I was young, 7 or 8? I had a child size table with four small chairs in my loft bedroom and we sat there and colored for what was probably about forty minutes, but to my child self, it seemed like hours. The scratch scratch of his pencil, and the waxy smell of crayons… I don’t remember what I had drawn when our time was up, but I distinctly remember his. It was a face, a serious old man, but even to my little eye I could tell, I KNEW, this old man had a clever secret that delighted him.
I had never seen anything like it, it was a kind of magic!
And that’s how I remember my Grampa Phil. Serious, fantastic, and quite probably, delighted with himself. Thanks for jogging my memory, I love that one."
Collage Packs - 1940s and 50s - Loads of Original Vintage Advertising Images for Your Collage, Cards or Altered Art
- Handmade Supply
- Materials: magazine illustrations, vintage 1940s 1950s fashion illustrations
- Feedback: 3514 reviews
- Only ships to United States from Michigan, United States.