You know, its funny that the more pictures I take, the more I seem to be developing favorite subjects to photograph.
I like signage. The fonts. The display. The overall look & what the maker was trying to achieve with the design. The period pieces & the chic & modern. All of them.
I don't take many people pictures. I suppose that is because I'm not a people person. I do like faces though, the creepy dolls or the fancy lady head vases. And animal figurines too, as they are also have faces with interesting eager expressions. Doesn't it look like those two vases are people watching? They look judgey and gossipy, like they are making comments to each other about what passes for fashion in today's antique malls.
Then there things that I love to look at it, but would never fit into my house or decor. Like the cushion holder from the 60's dying to be in my living room if my living room was larger, & different, & not mine. And the tchotchkes that I haven't room for. The little bits & baubles that look so lovely on the shelves and would be perfect if only...I suppose photographs, in some way, are my attempt at collecting them, without actually having to give up precious shelf space.
Then there are the linens. I can't begin to explain how many photos I have of miscellaneous linens. They are so soft...the fabric, not the photographs. There is something about the way they look in their piles, or in cardboard boxes. And the idea of them-- that fifty years ago a woman purchased this floral table cloth or that lace napkin for a smashing dinner party. I hope it was fun. I've no doubt it looked lovely.
You'll notice I don't have photos of books. That's because we buy those. We have books everywhere. We have a library room, where my husband's desk resides and the shelves are floor to ceiling. We have cubicles in our room stacked with them, and little piles everywhere else. To curb our addiction to ephemera, we've decided to collect two limited categories outside of what we need to keep up with our profession, of course-- old cookbooks, preferably from the 1920's and earlier, & old party books. Not etiquette books or manner manuals, but the sort of how to's that told housewives of old how to through a good old barn burner with class.The cookbooks are for Jeremy, the party books are mine. They are so funny.
A word on antique stores. In my experience there are three sorts of stores that call themselves "antique stores:" the junk shop trying to be classy; the booth brigade with items ranging from junk to knockoffs to the real deal; and the real antique dealer. Anchor Antiques falls into the latter category. The owner has exquisite taste-- really beautiful things, all neatly organized. A stunning 19th century needlepoint sofa, a framed impressionist painting on a marble mantelpiece. Mahogany bookcases brimming with sets of classic literature & histories. Busts & crystal & gilded lovelies everywhere. And in the back corner there was a book shelf jammed with handy household tomes.
We spent over an hour pouring over them. and lest you think that is a cobweb in the upper right of the picture above, its not- it was a plastic bag protecting a cookbook from the culinary institute, published in the 1930's. We looked through them all, & purchased more than we intended, but less than we wanted. Jeremy got a few choice cook books, & I got this:
Which I am madly in love with. It was published in 1941 & it is full of gems. I promise that sometime in the near future I will start a series of posts to share what Ms. Draper has to say on party matters. So many amusements & awesome illustrations & it really brings home how far women have come in seventy+ years. I snapped some with my phone to message my Mom who, it should be stated, never told me I needed not one but two table lamps before throwing a soiree.
So don't plan any parties until I get the posts written & posted. You wouldn't want to make some hideous faux paus that would lead to your social isolation now would you.
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