One of the endearing things about the Japanese, of course, is the way they adopt English vocabulary and use it in their own quixotic way. There are websites devoted to the 'Engrish' that results. Often it's not quite clear why they choose the words they do, or whether they realise what they evoke to a native speaker of English. I would not expect to find cute clothes for young women and girls in a shop called Grandma!, but there you go. (In fact, at first I misread the name as 'Grand mal,' as in epileptic fit!) On consideration, I think the name is meant to indicate that the clothing is vintage-styled, but don't worry, it will not make you look like a nanna, unless you mean your nanna when she was young and foxy and turning heads at the Saturday night social.
The Grandma! main store is in Broadmead, a Japanese-built sim based on London. As you walk around, it really does look and feel like a relatively affluent part of London - maybe Knightsbridge? I need to spend more time in London to be certain.
The concept of the shop is what's so adorable: according to the Picks in creator Hanae Nishi's profile, 'This shop imitates a vintage bookstore. You are a cute girl, who lives in the bookstore...' Well, I LOVE vintage bookstores, and I LOVE to be told I'm a cute girl, so this was clearly right up my alley.
So I dressed myself, cutely enough I hope, in a blouse and capris from GiGi Couture, and went! Click on the pictures to see the full versions.
You can see an authentic London Underground sign in the background - there is an entrance to a Tube station near Grandma!, but it's currently blocked off with warning tape, and a cautious peep suggests that it's under construction. In any case, what need have I of public transport? I live in the shop. I'm like Bernard Black, but a cute girl.
Unlike Bernard, though, I keep a clean shop. When you enter Grandma!, you'll find a cash desk to your right. If you click on the till, you'll get an LM for the shop, and if you click on the little pink bag speckled with butterflies, you'll receive a free pack containing the floral apron (on jacket and skirt layers), armful of books and duster shown here. You'll have to turn off any AO you wear to carry these correctly. And you'll be all set!
You can sit yourself down behind the desk (the stool has an embedded pose) and await customers.
'Are they real leather?'
'Dey're real Dickens.'
Grandma, whoever she may be, likes to leave little notes. That refers to the SL goods - I can't imagine a second-hand bookstore lasting long without occasionally buying books back, or at least allowing trade-ins.
After sitting at the desk for a while, you may begin to wonder, is there a staff loo?
Of course there is. Notice the cute pink bow on the back of the staff apron! I can see now that I should have waited a little bit longer before snapping this, because the peeling paint texture on the wall hadn't quite loaded.
Don't worry, I have my pants on, I'm just demonstrating the dunny pose. Grandma's left another of her little notes.
This, likewise, didn't seem to want to load completely, but if you squint you can read 'Don't bring the stuff in. Please.'
Grandma evidently knows me well; if I am not expressly forbidden to vanish into the loo with a slightly foxed novel, it will be hard to get me out of there.
One flaw in the otherwise delightful attention to detail is that there's nowhere to wash your hands, so it's a good thing I didn't really pee.
Incidentally, while I write this up I'm watching the BBC's new Robin Hood, and while I love the continuing tribute to Tim Curry that is the Sheriff, the anachronistic costumes are constantly bugging me. Why does Sir Guy of Gisbourne constantly wear an Old West duster coat? Such coat technology simply did not exist in mediaeval Europe! Let alone the obviously machine-sewn seams on Robin's shirts. Oh well.
The bookshop's heater doubles as a little stove, so I can make a hot drink or cook a pot of something bubbling. Num! Hanging on the rail over the heater you can see the first samples of the vintage clothes on offer - some very sweet little coats. I like the blue one at far right! Now, where does that ladder go? There are no more shelves up there.
That's where the shop-girl's little bed is! All right, it's a bit minimal, a mattress with an afghan and two cushions, but I look comfortable enough, don't I? I absolutely love this, I've always ALWAYS loved bunks and high platforms and tree-houses and anything that lets me climb up and peep down at people. Perhaps in a previous life I was one of those cats that like to get up on the top edge of doors and pounce on people's heads as they enter a room.
I've been seeing this method of displaying clothes for sale more and more recently, but only in Japanese or Japanese-influenced shops. Why don't more people do it? It's so cute! What, you may wonder, is beyond that curtained doorway? Why is the floor tiled?
Why, it's the shopgirl's little bathroom! I had to put up the CLOSED sign before undressing and hopping into the water, though. Don't want customers popping in while I'm in the altogether.
Washed and refreshed, I'm back on the job and on the lookout for customers. Come on, ladies and gents, who wants a 1958 Bunty annual in fair condition?
The concept of the shop is what's so adorable: according to the Picks in creator Hanae Nishi's profile, 'This shop imitates a vintage bookstore. You are a cute girl, who lives in the bookstore...' Well, I LOVE vintage bookstores, and I LOVE to be told I'm a cute girl, so this was clearly right up my alley.
So I dressed myself, cutely enough I hope, in a blouse and capris from GiGi Couture, and went! Click on the pictures to see the full versions.
You can see an authentic London Underground sign in the background - there is an entrance to a Tube station near Grandma!, but it's currently blocked off with warning tape, and a cautious peep suggests that it's under construction. In any case, what need have I of public transport? I live in the shop. I'm like Bernard Black, but a cute girl.
Unlike Bernard, though, I keep a clean shop. When you enter Grandma!, you'll find a cash desk to your right. If you click on the till, you'll get an LM for the shop, and if you click on the little pink bag speckled with butterflies, you'll receive a free pack containing the floral apron (on jacket and skirt layers), armful of books and duster shown here. You'll have to turn off any AO you wear to carry these correctly. And you'll be all set!
You can sit yourself down behind the desk (the stool has an embedded pose) and await customers.
'Are they real leather?'
'Dey're real Dickens.'
Grandma, whoever she may be, likes to leave little notes. That refers to the SL goods - I can't imagine a second-hand bookstore lasting long without occasionally buying books back, or at least allowing trade-ins.
After sitting at the desk for a while, you may begin to wonder, is there a staff loo?
Of course there is. Notice the cute pink bow on the back of the staff apron! I can see now that I should have waited a little bit longer before snapping this, because the peeling paint texture on the wall hadn't quite loaded.
Don't worry, I have my pants on, I'm just demonstrating the dunny pose. Grandma's left another of her little notes.
This, likewise, didn't seem to want to load completely, but if you squint you can read 'Don't bring the stuff in. Please.'Grandma evidently knows me well; if I am not expressly forbidden to vanish into the loo with a slightly foxed novel, it will be hard to get me out of there.
One flaw in the otherwise delightful attention to detail is that there's nowhere to wash your hands, so it's a good thing I didn't really pee.
Incidentally, while I write this up I'm watching the BBC's new Robin Hood, and while I love the continuing tribute to Tim Curry that is the Sheriff, the anachronistic costumes are constantly bugging me. Why does Sir Guy of Gisbourne constantly wear an Old West duster coat? Such coat technology simply did not exist in mediaeval Europe! Let alone the obviously machine-sewn seams on Robin's shirts. Oh well.
The bookshop's heater doubles as a little stove, so I can make a hot drink or cook a pot of something bubbling. Num! Hanging on the rail over the heater you can see the first samples of the vintage clothes on offer - some very sweet little coats. I like the blue one at far right! Now, where does that ladder go? There are no more shelves up there.
That's where the shop-girl's little bed is! All right, it's a bit minimal, a mattress with an afghan and two cushions, but I look comfortable enough, don't I? I absolutely love this, I've always ALWAYS loved bunks and high platforms and tree-houses and anything that lets me climb up and peep down at people. Perhaps in a previous life I was one of those cats that like to get up on the top edge of doors and pounce on people's heads as they enter a room.
I've been seeing this method of displaying clothes for sale more and more recently, but only in Japanese or Japanese-influenced shops. Why don't more people do it? It's so cute! What, you may wonder, is beyond that curtained doorway? Why is the floor tiled?
Why, it's the shopgirl's little bathroom! I had to put up the CLOSED sign before undressing and hopping into the water, though. Don't want customers popping in while I'm in the altogether.
Washed and refreshed, I'm back on the job and on the lookout for customers. Come on, ladies and gents, who wants a 1958 Bunty annual in fair condition?
1 comment:
"are they real leather"
"they're real dickins"
Black Books for the win.
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