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Haima-Design does The Upcycled Boot Bag Project.

2/14/2015

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Do you recognize this: You have a pair of boots in a cupboard, you don't use them anymore. They are too worn out to wear any longer, but somehow you still keep them. Good memories maybe, or they once cost you a fortune?
Never mind, whatever the reason is: Use them again in Marions Upcycled Boot Bag Project!
Do you recognize this: You want to go out in town, it will be late. You dislike to carry a big bag with you, but your pockets are too small to carry keys, cards and so on with you. What to do? Buy yourself a Super Upcycled Boot Bag!
The Upcycled Boot Bag Project is good for the environment, and gives you the opportunity to own a complete unique designed bag from Haima-Design.

INFO: Contact

Haima-Design does the Upcycled Boot Bag Project.

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Antiques and bags

9/22/2014

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So there we are, it's ready.
I hope she will be content with the result.

Bij de koningin

“Het lijkt net alsof ik bij de koningin op bezoek ben, zou mijn moeder zeggen”, bracht ik uit, nadat ik was gaan zitten op een van de vier barokke stoelen, bekleed met roze zijde. Op het ronde tafeltje midden in het vertrek lag een stapeltje in leer gebonden bijbeltjes, dicht naast het dienblad met thee en koekjes. Een etagére stond in het midden, daarachter lag een fotoalbum met afbeeldingen van enkele Grote Onbekenden. De eigenares - van middelbare leeftijd, met een nog altijd jonge blik in de blauwe ogen- paste naadloos in deze omgeving van grandeur en La Belle Epoque, waar de kroonluchters fonkelden boven een paspop met wespentaille; een hoge hoed uit de tijd van Dickens; een witte kast vol theeserviezen; rijen parelmoeren knoopjes; gespelde kanten kraagjes en klosjes garen; zilveren bestek, een lage toonbank met geëtaleerde hoeden. Ik herinner me zwart fluweel met een donkerpaarse strik. Elk hoekje was benut, ook in de kamer ernaast, en dáár weer naast, en ook boven, waar een smalle turquoise trap nog naar weer meer leidde: enkele antieke bedden; oude zijden jurken met stoffen knoopjes, of linnen onderjurken met frivole randen van geklost kant naast leren koffers met metalen sluitingen. Helemaal links in de hoek, deels onder de trap, vond je pakken zeeppoeder uit de tijd van onze moeders, naast keurig gesteven linnen handdoeken en van allerhande verpakkingen met gedempt gekleurde opdrukken. Klosjes waar kant mee was geklost, blokken zeep met oude etiketten en veel, heel veel wat ik niet onthouden heb. Er leek geen einde aan te komen. Vol? Dat zeker. Chaotisch? Nee. Met bewondering constateerde ik dat deze vrouw er in geslaagd was om de oude glorie te doen herleven in deze als ‘winkel’ betitelde kamers die het woord museum beter verdienden, in mijn ogen. Zonder het gevoel van mufheid of melancholie dat je soms overvalt als je te veel met de vergankelijkheid wordt geconfronteerd. Haar turquoise vestje had dezelfde kleur als het heuptasje dat ik die afgelopen week voor haar had gemaakt, enkele dagen nadat ik nietsvermoedend haar winkel was binnengegaan. Ze was er blij mee, dat kon ik wel zien. Er moest kleingeld in passen, en briefpapier. Nog een extra hoesje voor haar telefoon erbij. Wat turquoise accenten, hoe kon het anders. Toevallig had ik nog één lapje turquoise gevonden. Het was juist genoeg geweest.

Ze had hem ontmoet in Alkmaar, op de markt als bloemenverkoper, terwijl zij achter een kraampje haar antiek aan de man probeerde te brengen. Later verkochten zij hun huis en vestigden zich in Westerhoven, in een mooi wit pand met daarachter nog een huis, later omgetoverd in een regelrechte museumwinkel. De naam: ’t Ranonkeltje’, stamt nog uit de tijd toen zij naast antiek, ook bloemen verkochten.“De boeketten waren zo mooi”, verzuchtte ze, maar het liep niet”. “Als het nu Amsterdam geweest was. De Westerhovenaren vonden het maar een vreemde combinatie. De bloemen verdwenen en het antiek bleef. Ik realiseerde mij dat dit uiteindelijk hun levenswerk was geworden, opgebouwd en uitgebreid in vele jaren door louter enthousiasme. Alles met liefde gerangschikt, op gevoel. Waar hadden zij het vandaan gehaald? We waren nog niet uitgepraat daar aan de thee, onder de talrijke kroonluchters uit andere tijden. Waar je gissen kon hoe zij eruit zouden hebben gezien, de verdwenen eigenaren van het vele dat lag uitgestald in de vitrines of stond te schitteren op een toonbank. We spraken onze bezorgdheid uit over de jonge generatie. Hadden zij massaal oog voor voorbije tijden verloren? Was de jeugd voorgoed vervlakt door de snelle media-middelen? We kwamen er niet uit. Een klant kwam met een paar antieke schoenen binnen en vroeg of ze die kon passen. Ik wilde de zaak niet langer ophouden en kondigde mijn vertrek aan.Voor ik het wist zat ik weer op mijn fiets, mijn hoofd vol beelden uit het verleden. Inspiratie voor de toekomst.

To the queen. Badly translated in English)

The store was much bigger than I thought.
In fact it was a museum of antiques. Filled with things from La Belle Epoque, a hundred and fifty years old. I was impressed. Who would have expected this, behind the wrought iron door at the entrance? Why don't you create a museum? I asked point blank. No, she said, too many rules, I want to stay in myself. I had to admit that, of course. Soon we were talking about my bags, and a few minutes later she asked me if I could make one for her. She went to markets and no purse was strong enough to keep the money. Within no time they all ended up with holes in the bottom.

"It seems like I'm the queen to visit, my mother would say," I ventured, after I sat down on one of the four Baroque chairs, upholstered in pink silk. At the round table in the middle of the room a stack of leather-bound Bibles, was laying close beside the tray of tea and biscuits. An étagère stood in the middle, behind a photo album with pictures of some Great Unknowns.
The female of middle age, with a still-young look in her blue eyes, fit seamlessly into this environment of grandeur and La Belle Epoque, where the chandeliers sparkled above a mannequin with wasp waist; a top hat from the time of Dickens; a closet full of white tea sets; rows of pearl buttons; pinned lace collars and spools of thread; silver cutlery, a low counter with display of hats. I remember black velvet with a dark purple bow. Every corner was utilized in the next room, and over there again next, as well as above, where a narrow turquoise staircase lead to more: some antique beds; old silk dresses with fabric buttons, or linen petticoats with frivolous edges of wound side inside leather luggage with metal closures.
At the far left corner, partly under the stairs, you could find packets of soap powder from the time of our mothers, besides neatly starched linen towels and all kinds of packages with muted colored imprints. Bobbins, bars of soap with old labels and a lot I did not abstain. There seemed no end to it. Full? That's for sure. Chaotic? No.
With admiration, I realized that this woman had managed to revive it as a 'shop' :the old glory dubbed rooms that deserved better the word museum, in my eyes. Without the feeling of stuffiness or melancholy that sometimes fall over you when you face too much with the impermanence.
Her turquoise jacket had the same color as the belt pouch that I had made for her, a few days after I had entered her shop last week unsuspectingly. She was pleased, I could see that. Yet another case for her phone there. Some turquoise accents, how could it be otherwise. Coincidentally, I had one piece of turquoise leather found. It had been just enough.
She had met him in Alkmaar, on the market as a flower seller, while she tried to sell her antiques, behind a stall.
Later they sold their home and settled in Westerhoven, in a beautiful white building, behind a house, later turned into a veritable museum shop. The name 't Ranonkeltje', dates from the time when they were selling flowers next to antiques.
"The bouquets were so beautiful," she sighed, but nobody bought them..if it had been Amsterdam."
The Westerhoven inhabitants found it a strange combination. The flowers disappeared and the antiques remained. I realized that this was their life's work, built up and expanded in many years by mere enthusiasm. All lovingly arranged by feel. Where did they find all these antiques?
We were not finished there at the tea, among the numerous chandeliers from other times. Where you could guess how they would have looked like, the missing owners of the many that was displayed in the windows or was about to shine on a counter. We expressed our concern about the young generation. They had massively lost sight of times past? Was youth forever flattened by the rapid media resources? We did not get out.
A customer came with a pair of antique shoes inside and asked if she could try them. I did not keep the matter and announced my departure .
Before I knew it I was back on my bike, with my head full of impressions. Inspiration for the future.

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To the other side of the world.

8/13/2014

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This handbag I made, went to the other side of the world.. It's amazing, because I don't think I will ever be there in my life..
Here you can see a bit of the making process:

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Make your own beautiful handmade PAPER with only waste and rain water.

8/13/2014

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We used to have a lot of perennial files, old bank statements and so on. This week we cleaned up the house.
I put all waste in a large cardboard box, next to a large plastic bin with some rain water in it. Than the idea was born to make my OWN HANDMADE PAPER!
How do you begin:

Tear waste paper in pieces, Add water Wait one hour Use a blender and blend the paper into tiny pieces. Fill a conainer half with water. Make a frame or two, clamp one with mosquito net. Now pour the paper pulp in the water and stirr..Take your frame and sieve your paper. You can add pieces of flowers, seeds, what ever you like. Look at Youtube for more.. I HOPE YOU HAVE AS MUCH FUN AS I DID!

Old bank files and more..

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Apple tree

7/20/2014

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There is ONE single appletree in my frontgarden.
She is early, this year.
So I begun with apple marmelade, apple compote. Apple chutney is in the make for tomorrow.
No need to go on holidays now, just enjoy the silence of the day..

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Bag struggle again cappuchino and sweet-pepper-red bags

7/4/2014

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Nobody forced me.
So what made me work all day in this sticky weather, IN my studio? Making new bags, ofcourse.
I begun and couldn't stop. Finally I had to, because if not, I would have spoiled the whole thing.
A cappuchino with this temperature was also a kind of strange idea. But, all together I shouldn't complain too much about today,
look at the red..

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Gestapelde tijd

6/19/2014

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Finaly, i finished the book i made. It is called Gestapelde tijd. it is about an archaeologist and a female violin player at the beginning of 1900AD

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One euro..

6/19/2014

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In Veldhoven we have a permanent flea market, they call it a kringloopwinkel. I used to go there quite often, it is a kind of sport to find something nice and cheap. I only bought this plate, for one euro, for a friend of mine who wants to make an artwork out of fake Delft-blue china,. When I came home, I first found out the plate was made by hand. Then, it was made in Belgium, in the Faïencerie de Nimy, a factory from witch they destroyed everthing in WO II. Mouzon, 1851-1890. So, this tray is at least 125 years old, and 100% ib good condition.. How much it is worth, now? In any case more than one euro..

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Nervebreaking..

6/19/2014

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Never thougt making bags could be so nervbreaking..
For the first time, I sent a bag to the US, by Post.nl. strack & trace.
What do you think? I tracked a lot, but no tracing.. I begun to get a little nervous, what was wrong??
The barcode begun with CC and than O, I thought, until I finely found out the O was a 0.. Little difference, but the problem was solved..

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Live

3/12/2014

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For the first time, some of my bags are in a shop!
I am not used to it yet. As if my children are on holiday. But it is also fun..

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