Ribbons, yes ribbons, are my fetish. I am seriously addicted to ribbons. So, this weekend I hauled by two babies to a store dedicated solely to ribbon. Rows and rows of ribbon. I think it's a given that moms can continuously use the word *babies* to describe their children regardless of age, don't you agree? Anyhow, while my kiddos occupied themselves quietly by pretending that they were spies and the security cameras were lasers, I walked the aisles slowly inspecting each shelf. It was a treat. Seriously, like an "anthropoligie" type treat. It could be worse.
So here are a few of my goodies, which I determined were all from the same supplier. Funny how your taste just meshes with some companies. I poured through aisles and aisles and of mismatched ribbon and figured out that every roll I pulled was the same manufacturer.
I love the thickness of the ribbon and the quality of detail.
The two above have rows of fuzziness that remind me of a pussy willow. The symmetry also gives it a post modern feel. Love it!
You'll see these babies again soon as I combine their gorgeous textures with the ceiling tin pieces in my shop.