Monday 22nd, October:  Chris was up earlier than me yesterday, as you can see from the genre of images that have appeared on the blog. To my female friends I can confirm that the shop windows series is in the interest of design, or ‘ethnography’ as Chris would put it, although I am beginning to wonder.

It is true that we have been struck by the schizophrenic nature of Catholicism which is so evident here in Portugal. Windows in the main street full of statuary and tourist reliquary – St. Anthony is huge here – and then next door is another of the many lingerie boutiques.

There are more undies per square inch in Lisboa than pasteis (the ubiquitous delicious local custard cake). LIke everything here, there are remnants of the past. Some window displays seem to use a female dummy that dates from the 1950; breasts are bigger, hips are wider; the female body is more robust and full. This is lingerie as necessary armour and support, rather than embellishment (I am channeling Simon Schama now).
There are fabulous shops; in some the original fittings must date from the 1930s and 40s; you see beautiful wooden cabinetry with brass corners. Items are ‘on display’ – even in the local pharmacy the walls are glass cabinets from where you may gaze upon the many varieties of toothpaste. It’s not about theft. Sweeping curves lead the shopper into the efficient care of an attentive older salesperson.

Is it just coincidence that we were staying in the Rua de Sapatieros, the Street of the Shoemakers? The cobbled streets in this old shopping area are named after the Guilds … My favorite shoe store has a spiral staircase to the upstairs office; you will find an image of this if you look hard. Note also the ceramics on the outside of another shoe store.

The service is solicitous, old-fashioned. It is not hard to imagine 40 years of Salazarians marching in to be fitted for their navy double-breasted gold-buttoned jacket (still big here amongst the older bourgeoisie) while their wives head off for a hand-made pair of court shoes or gloves. Yesterday I ummed and aahed over a lovely leather handbag circa 1950 in a second-hand shop. I had no cash and walked away, knowing I would regret it. It was leather lined and made in Porto, in the north. I can only imagine the vintage treasures I could find with a bit of time. I feel a sense of loss at the thought of it.

Chris picked up a couple of suits on sale in a shop in Baixo, where we were staying. They were incredibly cheap. The store was established in 1907 and I think the original owner and his wife were still running the show. The suit was too big but no matter sir… they whipped it upstairs for a quick (and free) alteration.

We are in Barcelona now. We have a fantastic apartment, but there is street noise rising up from the street and a different scale and energy. No doubt it will be fantastic but I left my heart in Lisbon.