Tuesday, August 7, 2007
I have always loved old things. The trendy thing to call them now is "vintage". My grandad has had an antique shop in Seattle for longer than I have been alive. I remember trips to visit him at the shop. I would spend hours dusting his treasures, in trade for one special thing that I picked out.
My family has been thrifting for generations. My grandad and mother both had their "trap lines", a route stopping at various junk shops, flea markets, and hole in the wall thrift stores. When I was young, I usually tolerated being guided through these spots, but the flea markets were my favorite.
Today Ava opened a bathroom drawer and peered inside. She found a very old blue glass bead necklace, that my grandad gave me. She put it on her topless torso, and danced around the room. I persuaded her to put on a shirt (stained with strawberry from our garden), and snapped a few shots of her. When I looked at the photos, I realized she was sitting on my favorite vintage chair. It was passed down from my mother, and is probably older than us both.
This got me to thinking about things that I love and cherish in my house that are old. I walked around and saw our old copper planted that hangs to the side of our sink, cheerfully holding some of this years lavender harvest. I looked to the lamp with the silk shade that lights up our living room. My mother had it for years before donating it with our purchase of her cottage.
It's not just things that are in the house either-it is the house itself. Our home was built in 1922, and carries so much history and character with it. At the end of our living room is a wonderful, quaint set or biult in cabinets that house my family's book collection.
I think a love of old things is a precious gift. Some are born with this appreciation, surrounded by it from birth. Others find their own way to the vintage world. Once you have seen the wonder of it, you will never look at new things the same.