“To invent, you need a good imagination and a big pile of Junk!”
I like junk. I confess. Rubbish, as my friend Radka says!
I bought my first antique when I was 18 years old. An old chair for my bedroom. My father helped me pick it out. I loved that chair.
I am not obsessed. Nor is my home filled with them. Many of my “Treasures” as I call them are actually family heirlooms. Heirlooms I choose to display. Because an heirloom tucked away in a box is of no joy to anyone in my opinion.
I have always enjoyed antique stores, thrift stores, yard sales, etc.
There is just something I can’t explain about picking up an item. A well made item. And listening to it tell its story. Wondering who all this item served in its 30, 40 or 50+ , years of life. I like that. Finding a new purpose for an old object brings me joy.
And that’s about as simple as I can make it to you non “junk” people.
I am not a hoarder. I do not go crazy. Yet. I go on my treasure hunts looking for specific items that I collect or that “Fit” my home.
And then every now and then. Something finds me!
As in the chair I am about to introduce you to.
I have a front room in my house. I suppose it’s the living room. And yet, Brian and I have never “Lived” in it. It’s not because we don’t want to or we don’t like the room. It’s really just a math problem. The upper floor of our home alone is about 1800 square feet. There are only two of us. So we tend to use about 600 square feet on a regular basis.
We just don’t go in there much. So since wasted space stresses me out, we decided awhile ago that this would be our “Archive” room.
We love history.
We love genealogy.
We love our family.
So quite by accident, this room started taking shape as a quiet place for us to get in touch with all of that.
Several years ago when Brian’s dad passed away, he inherited these funky 60’s wall shelves. I HATED them when I first saw them. WELL before I moved into this home. I had NO appreciation for gaudy 60s and 70s decor.
Then, when we moved here, they seemed to fit better. I painted the brass brackets a darker “nickle” color and that helped.
So these shelves started things:
These shelves now hold things we love.
My grandfathers silver trumpet.
My fathers “Man of the year” award.
Pictures of those I love.
You get the point. These things are my heart. They mean everything to me.
Okay, back to the chair that found me.
I have been struggling with color for this room for a while. Waffling between browns and blues and browns and oranges.
And then the answer came. Through a chair.
We were out last Saturday running errands. We see the unavoidable “Community Yard Sale” sign. We decide we HAVE to take a look, right?
So we stop at a few places not really seeing much we need or want.
Then Brian spots this chair. Orange. Hideous. Lovely.
We get out and I am truly expecting her to tell me its 30 bucks. WAY too high for a garage sale. (I have VERY strict rules when treasure hunting about what I am and am not willing to pay!) to my surprise she says 8 bucks.
Now, I NEVER carry cash. But I just so happened to have exactly 8 dollars in my purse. So after a thorough inspection of the chair, we brought her home. It was fate. That chair needed us.
My ex husband stopped by later that day as I had her out in the carport cleaning her up. He said “Dawn, that is one ugly chair!”
I could not disagree more. She is perfect.
We cleaned her up and gave her a new home and now she too “Fits” my house.
I stuck her next to my 4 dollar floor lamp I won on an online auction. I put my grandmothers afghan over her. And next to her on the walls hang even more family treasures. I could not be happier with this chair.
For indeed, one mans junk is another mans treasure. ENJOY!
Oh, yeah, Ozzy cat seems to think its pretty grand too!