When I was sixteen, I would make the twenty minute walk to one of our local community banks, where I worked. I had to pass-by a little vintage thrift store along the way. I vividly remember the first time I poked around that little store, amazed at all of the awesome antique and vintage finds hidden in the nooks and on the shelves.
There were old books on every subject, kitchen items that I knew my great-grandmothers still had and used, furniture - fancy at that, stationery items, rugs, home decor, doiles, linens, etc. I could easily get lost in the wonderment of each item. Who did it belong to? When was it given to them? Was a gift? How many generations of one family treasured it?
My very first vintage purchase was from that shop: a hand carved walking cane. It had a leaf carved into the curve of the handle, and a brass tip at the bottom - where it hits the ground. I still have it. I think I paid $8 for it, and I remember being so excited to have begun my own collection of vintage finds. That was over 30 years ago.
I often joke with my husband that thrifting is my therapy. The sense of calm that comes over me when I enter a thrift store is almost palpable. I don't even have to buy anything - it's the sheer enjoyment of having remembrances and memories brought out clearly in my mind as I peruse the shop. It's the awakening of my imagination when I see worn bread bowls and wooden spoons and wonder - how many loaves were made and baked for hungry mouths? What happened to the little one who wore the little leather strap shoes? How many youngsters were honored to use the rusted, worn tools?
A couple of days ago, my three year old grandson came to my house and was gazing into my China cabinet and questioning me about the treasures that are kept behind the thin, curved glass. It warms my heart to see a new generation, of Emma's heritage, enjoy vintage items as much as I do.
I wonder what his first vintage discovery will be?
Thanks for stopping by,