What I wore in September - Part 1

I have to admit I've been feeling just a tiny bit bereft now that I've finished this year's September travelogue. Now that the last memories have been virtually committed to paper, our time away seems to be well and truly a thing of the past. 

Fear not, though, as we've got another little trip lined up shortly, which I'm really excited about. 

But first things first: it's time for another attempt at catching up, starting with what we did - and more specifically, what I wore - in the week after we came back.

A sweltering 28°C did accompany us on our way home on Sunday the 7th of September, but by Monday the temperature had taken a couple of steps back to a more moderate 23°C. 

I was glad I'd had the foresight of taking an extra day off to deal with the inevitable flurry of post-holiday chores. To cheer myself up, I was wearing one of my all-time favourite Summer skirts. Instantly smitten with its Missoni-esque pattern, it was a no-brainer when I laid eyes on it in a charity shop in the Summer of 2021.

The lobster print top I paired it with was charity shopped new with tags in May 2019. 

Picking up the yellow zig-zags of the skirt, I accessorized my outfit with a flea market find pleated belt and a bubble-gum beaded necklace from a long-gone vintage shop. The turquoise enamelled fish brooch was bought in Ypres during one of our September holidays and the yellow shoes were a post-dentist charity shop find back in April.

Bess was happy to see us and insisted on lots of lap-time, although she'd had more than her fair share of cuddles while we were away as she'd managed to charm her way into her team of catsitters' affections. When our lovely neighbours Wes and Michèle came back from a night out and spotted her sitting behind our front window, they couldn't resist treating her to some nightcap cuddles!

I finished the final chapter of the book I'd started in our holiday cottage. Compared to both Donna Tartt's The Secret History and Daphne du Maurier's Rebecca - which is a favourite of mine - I had high expectations for Lucie Whitehouse's The House at Midnight which - although an enjoyable read - it didn't exactly live up to.

My next read, Adriana Trigiani's The Shoemaker's Wife, had been in my reading pile for ages before I finally took the plunge. A slow and long-winded love story spanning two continents and two World Wars, I was soon quite bored with this one, but still managed to get to the end of its 475 pages.

It was back to work - and chaos! - on Tuesday, the only positive news being that it continued to be sunny with balmy temperatures into the low twenties.

I still managed to muster the necessary energy for posing for outfit photos after work on Wednesday and Thursday. 

Wednesday's outfit featured the funky short-sleeved vintage shirt by Finnlene and the brown pleated leather belt I found in the Think Twice sales at the end of August. The pleated green and white zig-zag patterned skirt was a charity shop find back in June and must have been one of my most-worn skirts this Summer. My red shoes were charity shopped a couple of years ago, while the necklace was bought brand new from Accessorize when they briefly had a shop in Antwerp.

The skirt I wore on Thursday was a gift from Claire who used to blog as Winter Peach Photography. From its citrussy colours, I picked orange for my short-sleeved jumper, which, same as the green stretchy belt with its bamboo buckle, was found on the high street.

Both the greyish green wooden necklace and the olive green shoes were charity shopped.

After a short but hectic working week, I was glad that Friday and thus the start of another three-day weekend rolled along.

To celebrate my freedom, I wore a vintage peasant-style C&A dress I found at Think Twice in June 2024. Both the green elastic belt and my burgundy ankle boots were old charity shop finds.

On the menu on Saturday the 13th of September was a mix of clouds and sunny spells, with some heavy rain mid-afternoon and highs of 19°C.

The perfect weather for a rummage at the charity shop, methinks! After our disappointing trip to the one in Poperinge, we were amply rewarded by the goddesses of the charity shops in our edge-of-town shop.

No less than three blouses came home with me. From left to right: ruffle-sleeved Summer top by the Polish clothing brand Nife, long-sleeved blue and white Western style blouse from the Spanish Sfera label and high-necked and long-sleeved floral extravaganza by good old H&M.

Seriously, did I need any more skirts? Probably not, but then I fell in love with this one. I couldn't find any evidence of there ever having been a label, so it might very well be someone's handiwork.

As it's almost impossible to find a pair of trainers which do not have those in-your-face white soles - which I don't like at all - I pounced on this lovely pink and navy pair. They're from the Dutch Van Haren chain and I saw an almost identical pair in their shop just a couple of days later. For just € 5,90, these were mine!

The bookshelves didn't disappoint either, with three more books added to my Tower of Pisa reading pile.

The day's outfit was built around this black and white leopard print skirt by posh label Essentiel Antwerp. I couldn't believe its € 5,30 price tag when I spotted it in a charity shop in February 2023.

My magenta short-sleeved knit was charity shopped in Shrewsbury last year. I added pops of green with my suede belt and wood and raffia beaded necklace (both charity shopped) and enamelled butterfly brooch from a posh second-hand shop back in the mists of time.

Sunday looked set to be a dry day with lots of sunny spells, so we wasted no time in going for a much needed head-clearing walk, for which we chose our beloved Middelheim Sculpture Park.

Finding a parking spot wasn't exactly straightforward, but this was soon forgotten at the sight of a sea of cheerful yellow Rudbeckia which greeted us when we entered the Middelheim-Low part of the park.

Signs of impending Autumn were found in pink-flowered Sedum spectabile, which apparently now goes under the new name of Hylotelephium spectabile. Quite a tongue twister, that.

We wandered at will, following our noses until we passed the Pillared Pavillion by Belgian architect Charles Vandehove (1927-2019). This offers shelter to Sibilla (above, bottom left) by Italian sculptor Pericle Fazzini (1913-1987), and Grande Bagnante N°1 (above, top right). The latter is by another Italian sculptor and contemporary of the aforementioned Mr. Fazzini, Emilio Greco (1913-1995).

The picturesque thatched warden's cottage, Aubette, is currently showcasing merchandise created for the museum shop by The Zangles, a collective of female artists, performers and musicians based in Antwerp.

Crossing the street, we entered the Middelheim-High part of the park, where we sat down on a bench facing the dancing sky tubes which make up the artwork called The Pogo Never Stops.

By Dennis Tyfus (°1979), the work is a nod to the artist's punk roots. It is a nonstop dance performance by thirteen sky tubes, which have drawings of faces and T-shirts of noise bands, its other-worldliness enhanced by the mechanical noise of the blowers driving the tubes.

As we sat there, a couple of children were running riot between the tubes, pinning some of them down by sitting on them, while their parents sat watching them disinterestedly. Sadly, none of the museum wardens were in sight, as both children and parents would certainly have received a good talking to. 

Intriguingly, when we visited the park again last week, the installation had gone ...

Oh, how I wish for some aliens to whisk some people away to their planet for due punishment!

I'll finish this post with a final outfit. Again, magenta was the colour of choice for my blouse, another peasant-style one I snapped up in last January's sales. The maxi skirt was charity shopped in June 2022, and has had many admirers since, yours truly obviously among them. 

My belt - the same one I wore in this post's second outfit - came from Think Twice, while my necklace was charity shopped and my brooch picked up in a Shrewsbury antique shop last year.

I'll be back with more September outfits in a couple of days. See you soon!

Sunny days in the West(hoek)

It's the final installment of my September travelogue. And about time too, as it's now more than six weeks ago that we woke up to sunshine streaming in through our window on Friday the 5th of September. 

The weather forecast for the day ahead looked very promising, with highs of 22°C, which felt positively balmy now that the wind had finally taken a backseat. We had thrown open the cottage's French window while having breakfast and were enjoying the antics of the resident sheep (a.k.a. the lawnmowers), when a telltale sound coming from across the road made us leap up from our seats and walk over to the cottage's front door. Yes, it was that time of year again: hop picking had finally commenced!

We decided to make the most of the fact that the weather gods were on their best behaviour by going for a walk and enjoy the bounty nature has to offer. Not wanting to stray too far that day, we'd selected Helleketelbos (bos is the Flemish word for wood), which, in theory, would involve a drive of less than 15 minutes.

However, as there were roadworks along the route which would normally take us there, we decided to catch two birds with one stone and take the road we could see in the far distance when looking towards the Franco-Flemish hills from our balcony. 

A couple of houses on said road had been catching our attention for years, so we were wondering if we would be able spot our cottage if we'd seek these out. And we could! As it was in the shade, however, it wasn't exactly straightforward to pick it out among the surrounding trees, so I've added a helpful pink arrow for you!

From there, finding Helleketelbos should have been a doddle. After all, the road we were now on was called Helleketelweg (weg being the Flemish word for road), so we presumed that this was where it led to. So, we refrained from entering our destination in our Satnav, deciding to rely on our - admittedly shaky - sense of direction and a rudimentary map. 

Well, what can I say? Those winding country lanes did get the better of us so that, after literally driving around in circles, we finally admitted defeat and tasked Truus, our Satnav with the Dutch accent, with pointing us into the right direction.

By the time we finally made it there, our shattered nerves were sorely in need of a spot of Shinrin-yoku, or forest bathing. It was then that we remembered that, in spite of the existence of numbered markers which correspond with the handy map we were carrying, we always seem to end up getting lost here.

So, why not throw caution to the wind and start our walk the other way around, taking the path we usually - and eventually - arrive back on?

This seemed to have done the trick, as we finished our walk without any hiccups whatsoever. Or perhaps we have finally learned from our past mistakes?

Helleketelbos covers an area of around 56 hectares. The name Helleketel, which literally translates as Hell's Cauldron, is not as ominous as it sounds. In old Flemish the word helle means hillside and ketel refers to a depression at the bottom of a slope. 

Helleketelbos is a remnant of an early medieval forest. The current wood consists of plots of deciduous, coniferous and mixed woodland and is surrounded by agricultural land. 

At the edge of the wood is a small half-timbered farm labourer's cottage, which used to be part of a large farmstead. It is locally known as the Witches Cottage. The cottage, which is in an enclosure with a picnic area, has been restored in recent years. Sadly, however, signs of vandalism are already apparent, with one of the windows giving access to the basement having been smashed to smithereens.

We rested here for a while, but as we hadn't brought a picnic and it was getting late, our faintly rumbling stomachs demanded that we drive back to our cottage for lunch. This was followed by a siësta, after which we drove down to Poperinge.

Here, we started with a visit to the local charity shop, which turned out to be a bit of a disappointment. Although I've found many a treasure here over the years, the stock wasn't up to scratch at all this time around and prices were considerably higher than where we live. I mean, € 11,50 for a dress, that's almost double what we're generally paying here.

We then continued to St. Jan's Kerk (St. John's Church), which has its origins in the 13th Century. The church is a well-known place of pilgrimage, connected with the nearby Mirakelhuisje (Miracle House) where it is said a stillborn child was brought back to life by Our Lady of St. John in 1479.

About 400 meters from the Market Place it is a little bit out of our way, so that it was only our second visit to the church in the 14 years we've been coming here.

But it was the Market Place we'd come for, and more specifically, the terrace of well-known establishment La Poupée, for an afternoon treat of waffles and cups of cappuccino.

Although we were already salivating at the mere thought, we stopped to photograph the magnificent neo-Gothic town hall for the umpteenth time. 

Our last day, Saturday the 6th of September, dawned sunny with some light clouds, which the sun would soon make short shrift of. With highs of 25°C forecasted for the day, there was no need for a jacket, so I made do with my faithful haori style cover-up to protect my arms from the sun.

This time, we stayed even closer to the cottage for our morning walk. 

A short stroll along a bumpy unsurfaced path, the whitewashed chapel of Ons Heerens Boompje (literally translated as Our Lord's little Tree) would have been visible from our balcony if only some trees hadn't been in the way. 

The top of our cottage was visible from the path we were walking on, basking in sunshine across a field of cabbages (above, top right).

Harvest was in full swing as we walked along the maize fields, until we came to a sign nailed to a fence post and pointing us towards the chapel, which, as you have probably gathered, is kapel in Flemish.

Quite why there were two signs, if even one would have been superfluous as at that point the chapel in its copse of trees was clearly visible, we'll never know. 

It is a so-called "fever chapel", where people come to pray for the relief of fever and pain as well as miracles in general.

The bushes and trees surrounding the chapel are hung with ribbons, handkerchiefs and other pieces of fabric - indeed in some cases whole garments - since legend has it that this would make fever or pain go away.

We usually burn a small candle here, for whatever it's worth. Last time we were here, though, in September 2020, we only had a € 5 note on us. In order get our money's worth, we lighted both a small candle and votive candle, and took a spare votive candle back with us as a souvenir.

If we were hoping of invoking the odd little miracle, we could never have guessed that it would actually work. As it was, exactly nine months later Jos's youngest grandson was born, although his parents had long ago given up hope.

Again, we had lunch at the cottage followed by a little siësta, after which I went to post a letter at the post office. 

Only joking! The post office I am about to enter in the above photo is part of an open air museum called Bachten de Kupe, about 20 kilometers from Poperinge.

The museum introduces you to the fascinating traditions of yesteryear.

It is a reconstructed farming village from the Westhoek region and consists of 46 authentic buildings, the oldest of which dates back to 1650, as well as thousands of objects that bring the past back to life. 

Old cobbled streets lead you through a village with shops, an inn, a farmhouse, and much more. Too much really, as every available nook and cranny is crammed full of stuff, which makes the interiors of the shops and other buildings a bit confusing and unrealistic.

Whether this is down to a lack of funds to properly display all the objects the museum is being donated, I have no idea, but somehow I can't help feeling that it's a bit of a missed opportunity.

It didn't really help that our visit coincided with that of a coachload of slightly inebriated folk, who were talking and laughing too loud and were making fun of some of the exhibits. A couple even attempted to ride the bicycles which were on display! Trying to keep one step ahead of them was our main object, but in the end they were literally everywhere.

Still, my camera kept working overtime, so here are some snapshots of the things which caught my eye.

After our rounds of the village, we finished our visit with a drink on the terrace of the inn on the village square. Service here was quite confusing as well, but we managed to get our order of non-alcoholic beers in the end!

So, that was it, our September holiday 2025. 

We spent our last night wistfully staring out of our window, and noting the progress made by the hop pickers in just one day, leaving a huge chunk of the hop poles bare.

It will be business as usual in my next post, starting with a massive round-up of September outfits.

See you soon!

Shoes, glorious shoes

Are you ready for episode # 4 of my September travelogue? I really hope you are as I've got something rather special for you in store!

It was Thursday the 4th of September and, although we woke up to sunshine, layers of grey cloud soon started appearing on the horizon. Thankfully the wind had finally calmed down, so that at least it wouldn't be tampering with the day's highs of 22°C. The weather forecast was still uncertain, though, with a promise of rain at some point during the day.

We'd exhausted most of the immediate area's wet weather options over the years and as we weren't in the mood for a repeat, we cast our nets further afield.

Our destination of choice was the industrial town of Izegem, a drive of just under an hour from our holiday cottage. If you're wondering about the appeal of this particular town, then let me introduce you to this gem of a 1930s Art Deco building, the existence of which I would have been completely unaware of if it weren't for an episode of  Belgium's version of Four in a Bed. The moment I clapped eyes on the building's magnificent façade, I knew I wanted to visit this former shoe factory turned museum.

Having consulted the museum's website, I noted that it was open from 10 am until 5.30 pm. However, it turned out that outside of the school holidays the museum was only open in the afternoons, so that upon arrival at around 11 am we found its doors firmly locked. 

Still, our attempts to gain entry had attracted the attention of one of the members of staff, who came and told us that the museum was closed. He must have seen the disappointment on our faces though, so after inquiring whether we'd come far, he decided to open up the museum just for us! We couldn't thank him and his colleague, who had to start up the museum's computer system to allow us to pay for our entrance tickets, enough. Such a lovely thing to do!

For decades, Izegem was widely known as the Belgian capital. In fact, the term Chaussure d'Iseghem (transl. shoe of Izegem) was a highly valued hallmark, the city owing much of its wealth to the shoe industry.

After having paid for our tickets, we were directed to take the lift to the top floor for a temporary exposition called Schoen. Passie (transl. Shoe. Passion), dedicated to the fascination with high-heeled shoes for women. 

 

The shoes on display here are a selection of two significant donations of private shoe collections received by the museum in 2024.

These donations, which add up to over 2500 pairs of shoes and significantly expanded the museum's collection, used to belong to Frieda Dauphin-Verhees from Antwerp and Louis Henrard from Liège. Together, they are offering an overview of more than a century of shoe fashion. 

Our heads still reeling after feasting our eyes on shelf after shelf filled with seriously drool-worthy shoes, we descended to the third floor. Here one can find an exhibition dedicated to that other industry that put Izegem on the map from the 19th century until well into the 20th century: brushes!

Dating from around 1935 and made in Birmingham rather than Izegem, this enamelled toilet set instantly caught my attention due to the similarity with a set we picked up in a UK charity shop many years ago.

Descending to the second floor where the main part of the shoe collection is housed, I was distracted by the splendour of the Art Deco interior. 

The original colour schemes of the granite floors, wall paintings and windows were meticulously restored in 2015. 

The whole floor was a photographer's delight, especially since we had the place to ourselves and didn't have to photograph around people. In fact, only Jos and one other guy insisted on being in the frame!

The guy in question (and I don't mean Jos!) was Edouard Dierick (1800-1875), the founder of the Izegem shoe industry. 

Aged 12, he started as an apprentice in his father's shoemaker's workshop. Following the sudden death of his father, Edouard took over the business. At that point, he had never made a complete shoe. Nevertheless, he managed to improve and increase production. He even invented a ruler to measure the length and width of the foot, a system that would be adopted in the United States a hundred years later.

Eduard is best known for the patent for waterproof shoes that he received from King William I. 

As a token of gratitude for receiving this patent, he presents William I with a pair of boots, of which he makes this identical replica (top left) for his store. Dating from 1830, it is made of calf's leather, hand-sewn and with delicate ornamental stitching on the heels.

In 1935, Edouard recreated his masterpiece by making a pair of boots for King Leopold I (top right), which were exhibited at the industrial exhibition in Brussels.

These shoes and boots, displayed in one of the rooms, all date from the early 1900s. Isn't that pair of tan lace-up boots the stuff of dreams? Not that I would ever be able to walk in those heels. Sadly enough, those days seem to be over ...

A replica of a shoe shop was set up in another room, where one was invited to try on the shoes displayed on the shelves. While Jos was resting his feet on a chair in the corner, I insisted on getting my money's worth by trying on the pairs in my size which appealed to me. The heels on the ones on the left were quite lethal, though. I was glad to be back in my trainers!

After this brief intermezzo, we oohed and aahed at the shoes displayed in a time-line of shoe fashion over the years. Suffice to say that there were quite a few pairs I wouldn't mind having in my collection. 

The former shoe factory in which the museum is housed was founded in 1863 by Emiel Vandommele, who was a pupil of the aforementioned Eduard Dierick. After many wanderings around Izegem, they finally ended up here in 1909 and the factory became known as Eperon d'Or.

They were proud to be certified purveyors to both the Belgian and the Luxemburg courts, as evidenced by the rather large Royal Arms on the front of the building. 

In recognition of the fact that Eperon d’Or had become the official supplier to both courts, the company made a bold statement by having an administrative front building constructed in front of the existing factory. It was designed in 1930 by Izegem architect Charles Laloo in pure Art Deco style.

Up until the Second World War, the shoes were made by hand, after which part of the process became automated. However, even when the factory finally closed down in 1967 a number  of models were still being made by hand.

Sadly, due to fierce competition, mainly from Italy and Eastern Europe, Eperon d’Or was declared bankrupt in 1967.

The above treasures were all made here and I'm sure you'll agree they are absolutely stunning.

And this is my very own pair of Eperon d'Or shoes! 

I bought them from a long-gone vintage shop about ten years ago, but only found out they were from this particular factory after we'd made plans to visit and, just out of curiosity, had a proper look at the pairs of vintage shoes which are living at the bottom of my wardrobe! 

Back on the ground floor, our visit still wasn't finished. 

Another temporary exhibition is currently running here, called Eigen Kweek (transl. Home-grown) which showcases the work of Belgian shoe designers.

The boots on the bottom right were instantly recognizable as being by Walter Van Beirendonck, while I photographed the Dries Van Noten shoes especially for Sheila. Both fashion designers were part of the famous Antwerp Six who graduated from the Antwerp Fashion Academy in 1982.

Finally, there was the factory hall at the back of the building, where, illustrated by a complete production line, one can learn how shoes were made in the 1950s as well as get acquainted with various kinds of leather, some of which I'd never even imagined existed.

All in all, our visit lasted almost two hours. Then, after purchasing some booklets about the shoe and brush industry from the museum shop, we returned to our car, ravenously eating the sandwiches we'd packed that morning.

But not before making some more photographs of that iconic building.

The building consists of a concrete skeleton finished with bricks. A striking feature of the two-storey façade is the staggered placement of the windows on the first floor. The tower on the corner contains the stairwell and is characterized by an open dome and vertical skylights.

The closing down of the factory was followed by its inevitable decline, but thankfully the front building was listed in 1999. The city of Izegem purchased the building in 2005 and opened the site as a museum in 2017.

But for how long?

Just weeks after our visit, I was scrolling through Instagram while on my way home, when a post from Eperon d'Or came up, announcing the fact that from the 1st of January 2026, it will no longer be run as a museum, and that seven members of staff are facing redundancy. 

The city council's decision came as a bolt out of the blue, and there has been a lot of protest, a petition - which obviously I signed - and a protest demonstration attended by 500 heritage enthusiasts, volunteers, and supporters last Saturday.

Will this be enough to make the city council reconsider its decision?

The forecasted rain arrived when we were on our way back to the cottage but had thankfully been chased away by sunshine and blue skies by late afternoon. 

You've already caught a glimpse of my skirt while I was trying on shoes. In fact, you've already seen me wearing it on the day of our little French adventure. The blue t-shirt with its three-quarter sleeves was charity shopped back in the mists of time, and picks up the blue flowers in the skirt's pattern perfectly.

So, that's it for now. I've still got one episode of my travelogue up my sleeve and hope you'll join me again in a couple of days' time.