The door opens, and my heart pumps faster. A sheen of sweat forms upon my palms as I gaze at the beautiful bounty before me. My eyes narrow, ready for the hunt.
Flaring once, my nostrils recognize the scent. Ah yes…this is the place. They’ve got…
The joyous search is full of surprise and unknown. What you might see, you’ll never know. But boy, it’s bound to be good. This how I feel each time I enter a vintage shop or antique store.
Given the choice between new and modern or used with character…I’ll take the old. Give me history. Give me rusty gold. Give me something that doesn’t fit the trendy mold.
I don’t need a match, just one to snatch. Faded can be fabulous and rusted oh so sheik, when the objects are priceless antiques.
Fifty-year-old spoons cause my spine to tingle with joy.
A primitive oilcan is love at first glance.
And oh, don’t get me started on the hats. Bonnets with a veil…mama mia.
Wooden storage trunk, yes please.
An old chair with dead mice? Hmmm, no problem. I’ll make it nice. A pair of rubber gloves and some antiseptic spray. Pull out the nests, scrub, polish and fix the bottom. Boom. Bang. It’s a winner. And it looks great in my bedroom.
I haven’t got qualms when a piece needs some work. I can roll up my sleeves, I ain’t scared of dirt.
There’s something cozy about country and collectibles. I use them everyone. Tins. Teapots. Canisters. Trinkets. Umm. Umm. Good.
My heart is for the things that have a story, as a writer, it makes things have much more meaning. And beauty too.
What about you? Do you share my love of old?