A Wander Through Dirty Janes Bowral — or How to Lose Two Hours Without Even Trying

If you’ve never been to Dirty Janes in Bowral, here’s the first thing you need to know: do not go in if you’re in a hurry.

You’ll tell yourself you’re “just having a quick look”, which is adorable, and then 45 minutes later you’ll be standing in front of a cabinet of vintage glass wondering whether you suddenly need a Murano vase in your life.

That’s the thing about Dirty Janes: you pop in for a look, and before you know it, something you never knew you needed is sitting right in front of you looking fabulous and making a very convincing case for coming home with you.

On this wander, (when I was meant to be restocking our shop), I found myself getting distracted almost immediately. First by old kitchen things. Of course.

There were vintage rolling pins, beautifully worn and smooth, which immediately made me think of Nan's kitchen, proper baking, and those days when we manage to cook without six gadgets plugged into the wall.

Then I spotted a huge old timber workbench. Did I need it? No. Could I instantly picture it somewhere in my house? Also yes. That is basically the Dirty Janes problem in one sentence.

There were also these lovely wooden pears, which I absolutely did not need either, but there I was photographing them like they were a major cultural discovery. And then came the lamps. Oh dear. There were patterned lampshades, glossy green bases, soft blues, florals, spots, stripes — all piled together in that wonderfully dangerous way that makes you start mentally redecorating rooms you had no intention of touching. And in my favorite Hamptons inspired colours too!

Then I looked up and found the crystal chandelier. Because apparently what my day needed was a dramatic chandelier. And this is where Dirty Janes gets properly dangerous for me, because then you hit the glass. I love glass. I have always loved glass. I especially love old coloured glass, which means I am almost completely defenceless in places like this.

There were greens, blues, aqua, amber, crystal — rows and rows of beautiful things catching the light and making me behave as though I have unlimited shelf space. I found a gorgeous vintage blue Murano mid-century piece that was exactly the sort of thing I could very easily talk myself into. Then more glass. Then crystal. Then a decanter set. At this point Brian would probably be wise to confiscate my wallet.

The jewellery cabinets were no better. There were rich green stones in gold settings, pale blue pieces, sparkly things I had absolutely no business lingering over — and yet linger I did. Then I wandered into one of my favourite sections: the vintage cameras. Not just one camera. An entire collection, from Box Brownies onwards, which is exactly the kind of display that makes you stop and start imagining all the places those cameras may have been and all the people they once photographed. Nearby was a beautifully detailed model of the Cutty Sark, because naturally there should also be a sailing ship involved by this stage.

And then I always stop at our friend Nick’s Stuga display to try a new perfume. Nick is a close friend of ours, and he makes perfumes, turned wooden shaving brushes and soaps. His display is beautifully done — Swedish calm, clean, stylish — which is quite a contrast to me by this point, wandering around photographing everything that stands still long enough.

Then there’s the point where all sensible Dirty Janes browsing leads: food.

The Highlands Tea Company café is part of the whole experience, and after enough wandering, poking around, photographing glass and mentally buying furniture, a sit-down becomes less of a treat and more of a medical necessity.

We had the chicken, leek and mushroom pot pie, which was exactly what I wanted — warm, rich, comforting, and properly satisfying. And then the lemon-scented scones with cream and jam.

Because if you’ve already spent an hour convincing yourself that a chandelier and a Murano vase are perfectly reasonable purchases, adding scones is hardly where the discipline needs to start. The café itself is lovely — warm, busy, full of character, with flowers, timber, teapots and that nice feeling of being tucked into the middle of somewhere interesting.

And that’s really what I love about Dirty Janes. You never quite know what you’re going to find. You might go in looking for a piece of furniture and come out obsessed with a glass vase.

You might go in for a browse and end up having lunch. You might go in for lunch and somehow spend half the day wandering through rooms full of things you suddenly desperately need. And if you’re anything like me, you’ll leave with a phone full of photos, a head full of ideas, and at least three things you’re still thinking about on the drive home.

Find The Village Providore in Bowral

You’ll find us inside Dirty Janes Bowral, with handmade fudge, artisan nougat, gourmet pantry favourites and gifts on our shelves throughout the week.

Planning a visit? Start with our Dirty Janes Bowral page for location details, or browse more of our stories and guides in Discover.