Its mine......all mine.......

Have you ever come across an object that you just had to have, that you would go to any lengths to own? Whether it is as a result of good old fashioned nostalgia or just plain covetous greed.

 It happened to me three years ago, when I walked through the door of my grandparents old farmhouse, and I have not stopped thinking about this object and the logistics of how I will get it home. You see, in a dusty old attic in Slovenia, above a now dishevelled and decaying farmhouse, I stumbled across the dressmakers dummy that belonged to my grandmother or Stara mama as I have always known her.

I loved this object from the moment I saw it, covered in a fine layer of age old dust, its wooden stand ravaged by woodworm, but its beauty and integrity intact along with the tough cotton fabric covering its torso.

I instantly connected with it and felt sad that it had been neglected and left, knowing that it had served in providing food for a family of 10 people, of whom my mother was one. My grandmother had not only brought up 8 children and worked the farm but to raise extra money sewed for the local community.

Now, I am one of countless grandchildren and therefore took for granted that I would inherit very little of what belonged to them. I have a few rare photos of my mother as a barefoot peasant girl with dirty face and shabby clothes and one of my grandfather in Army dress. But when I focused in on that decrepit, wood worm ridden dummy in the corner of the disused attic, my heart skipped a beat and I had to have it at all costs.

So here I sit, once again contemplating its journey to its new home, thanks to a very understanding Uncle and Aunt who granted me my wish. But why so important? Well, I am the only one who followed vaguely in my grandmothers footsteps; her ability with a needle, of making, of hoarding; hers of course by necessity, mine of pleasure. There was always a connection between us as we sat eating sweets together in the farmhouse kitchen, her chuckling and me smiling. I spent every summer with her as a child, often following her dark-clothed figure through the forest as she foraged for mushrooms. I feel I understand. I need to rescue and perpetuate her life's challenge of make do and mend. Its there in my blood, you can't ignore it.  It will be mine, eventually. Thank you Stara mama.

In loving memory of an amazing woman

Marija Podrzaj

21.8.1909 - 19.10.1983