Days off always leave me feeling that I must have missed my calling. Surely, there is some work I could have done that would have allowed me to bask in the things that bring me the most joy, like homemaking. As you know, I've been online shopping for a set of vintage Melmac plates to go with my vintage Indiana Whitehall tumblers. What I've found are hundreds of wonderful little items that aren't expensive that would be absolutely darling (a word I rarely use) in someone's home. The problem is, I already have so many absolutely darling somethings that I can't add more. However, someone somewhere is lacking darling somethings and doesn't even know it. I'm sure of it!
My mom and I have talked about needing to have a warehouse for our stock of stuff, much like people who stage homes. Only instead of cookie cutter neutral items, we have unusual old vintage things that make one think of childhood and grandparents. Naturally, we can't give up our own darling somethings as they have sentimental attachment that goes all the way to our marrow. But I've been to other people's homes and they don't have as many darling somethings and whether they realize it or not, they need them.
Target, Crate & Barrel, Bed, Bath & Beyond...all lovely places that I enjoy. Individuality in one's home, however, is becoming a lost art. Also a lost art, knowing what kind of home you would even enjoy.
So here's my proposal, I could be hired to figure out what kind of home would make you happiest and then set about helping you create it. But we'd create it with unusual items that evolve over time (so this would not be a weekend project) until piece by piece and detail by detail you would find yourself living within four walls that no one else lived within. You'd be surrounded with things that wouldn't necessarily make visitors ooh and ahh but would make your very heart giggle. Like a set of old Indiana Whitehall glass tumblers that just feel perfect in your hand. Or a beat up Melmac plate with a silly rooster on it. Or funky old vintage bed linens from the 1970s. Or softly faded old curtains in your kitchen window. Things that feel permanent and weighty and will not go out of style because they are like your fingerprints on your home. And some day your kids will remember that iced tea pitcher you had and maybe even your grandchildren will ask you if they can have your old cake platter when they get married.
There's my idea. Now if I could just get someone to pay me enough money to live on, we'd be ready to open for business!