We just doubled our size in the Hudson Supermarket and, while I
never really have enough room, this is so much better than before.
Maybe in another few weeks, I’ll be complaining and expanding
again. But, for now, I feel the luxury of space all around me.
The huge garage door (above), a gift from a friend, is the perfect backdrop
for my forever-favorite colors of grey, blue-grey and white-grey.
And a good place to hang some of my post-plumbing sconces and soap dishes.
The sun has set and, since I am finally free to look in the direction of my window
without squinting, I can see that going home is not on the agenda just yet. I spot
a sign (below…leaning on the trunk) and remember that I was so tempted to
change the name of my business, which relies so heavily on the redundancies
of farms and factories, to “Hauled Away” after finding this quirky thing mixed in
among some heaps in an old workshop.
Below, a shocking blast of color for someone like me. But I couldn’t resist the
make-do shelving (made from mid-century signs) found in an old family-owned
lumber yard in Massachusetts, a Farmhall tractor grill, a ship’s flag box (Ardith III)
and a soapbox car tool box (Wheels). I am pleased with this grouping and, while I
require the soft, pale, faded and peaceful shades at home, it is fun to see a primary
riot in my booth sometimes.
But, green! All of a sudden it is all over my booth. My long-standing indifference
to this color that (so they say) is perfectly lovely, stems from my first car. I was 19
and it was a 1960s clunker, which caused Ken’s brothers to fall all over themselves
laughing. “Look! It’s a Nash Rambler! She’s driving a Nash Rambler! Whataya call
that color? Puke?” Ok, so big deal, I was driving a Nash Rambler! Although I’m
not so sure that “driving” is the appropriate term for the starting, bucking and
stalling that actually took place on that very first day, and for many days
thereafter, as I learned to drive stick shift. I got over the derision regarding my
Rambler’s lack of cool pretty quickly. But the remarks about its color kind of
stuck. The table (below), however, is fit for a king, color not withstanding.
Architectural renderings (below), some one’s dream come true. It is hard for me to
pull my eyes away from them, they are so charming. I wish I could walk inside this
pretty 1930s-looking house to see what the rooms look like and the furnishings that
the lucky owners chose. I want to watch “Mr. Blanding’s Dream House” or “Christmas
in Connecticut.” These kinds of houses make me feel such nostalgia.
The mirrors (below) once were an old pair of double doors. The gentleman’s
dressing room cupboard to the left of the mirrors has a hidden compartment for
stashing valuables and secrets. The wonderful folky daybed, with its deep, cozy down
cushion, is freshly dressed in a vintage French postal bag cover. Just add a purring
cat and a good book, please.
The toothy detail (below) and the old orange paint peeking from beneath the
charcoal color are just part of what makes me love this daybed so much.
An amoire full of shelves (below) is topped with a few of the polite gaggle
of geese that grace my booth without honking or leaving droppings. They
really make me smile. The base of the bench was an old galvanized
commercial refrigeration shelf. Topped with down and four-season wool,
there’s not even a hint of its icy past.
The trunk (below) is covered with tan and brown striped linen and lined
with paper in blue and cream. It made its way around the world in those
long-ago days when the Grand Tour was not so unusual.
A cupcake stand piled with lavender bags and a drying basket full of Swedish
pillow covers keep the industrial worktable from being too manly. A gray chair
(above) and navy blue ones (below)…..Phew! I’m back in my element.
Oh, no! More green! But, I couldn’t pass by the drop leaf with its beautiful,
but, sadly, unseen legs. And, the bench…green, over red, over lots of other colors…
nobody says no to a sturdy bench, do they?
The worktable (below) is one of my all-time favorites. The funky leg set up!
The curved drawers (why only two in such a long table? and why the
curves?)! The honey-colored wood! I really want to bring it back home.
I just love an early sofa. They are way more comfortable in these modern times
with deep down cushions. So good looking, too, with the French hand-rolled edges and
hand-covered button tufts. All thanks to fabulous Jerry, the upholsterer to whom I owe
all praise and allegiance.
The thing that looks like a bike (below, left) is a saddle maker’s work station.
The worker sat on the seat and pedaled, making a saw blade go up and down
through the platform where leather was cut into pieces for horse tack. It
is wonderfully sculptural but I’m sure it could not have been so much fun
as a tool.
In my window is part of my collection of white jugs with blue writing. The rest
are strewn around my space. I don’t know why I am selling them at this time.
I like having big groups of things on offer and, as I was walking through the house
on the day we were bringing down the last load for the bigger space, I said “bring
those jugs!” While I can’t say I’ve noticed they are gone from a house that is so full,
seeing the photos of them makes me want them back.
Here are close-ups from some of the jugs. Aren’t they beautiful?
This is making it harder. I may have to rush down to Hudson to reclaim what
is mine before some white-with-blue jug-loving customer shows up.
If only I had had a collection of green jugs lying around on the day I said
“bring those jugs!”, I could be relaxing right now, safe in the knowledge that
all is white in my world.