April 2006 Archives
Another one from my poster/postcard series. They will be available on my shop...the mysterious online shop that has yet to materialize...oh, this pregnancy, I tell you. My brain feels like it's underwater....
I've been thinking a lot about the kind of home environment I want for our little one lately. I recently discovered the lovely little birds and have become addicted. I spent an entire evening reading through her archives, thrilling in the way she raises her kids with such creativity and how she fills her home with exquisite thrift store finds and handmade goods.
Reading her various posts made me think of my own childhood. My family didn't have a lot of money when I was growing up. My mom was an avid thrift store shopper and almost everything in our house was either second hand or handmade. My brothers and I didn't have many store-bought toys, but we passed the time drawing and making up our own games. Our house was a shrine to all things thrifted. It wasn't until junior high school when I insisted on "being like everyone else" that I started feeling embarrassed about the second handed-ness of our lifestyle. I secretly coveted matching furniture from department stores instead of the eclectic chairs and sofas my mother seemed to collect from the most random places. I think part of the problem was that though my mother has an excellent eye for great finds, restraint is not one of her strong suits (exhibit A, above). All I could see was junk and clutter amid her mountains of canvasses and art supplies. The rest of the family -- my father and us three kids -- cowered in the little space allotted to us. And so with all the disdain of a surly teenager, I associated thrifting with a feeling of suffocation and lacking.
When I graduated college and could afford to live on my own, I found that I avoided thift stores. I bought new clothes, new furniture, a new car. I embraced mass production. And if things had worked out the way I had planned, I would have been climbing the corporate ladder and living the yuppie dream.
It turned out I am sorely missing the ambition gene.
I tried out so many different types of jobs and nothing felt quite right. I left most jobs before I could get promoted. I lived in San Francisco where I rented an overpriced studio and slowly watched as the numbers in my bank account dwindled and then went into the negative. I had to leave San Francisco.
When I moved to Seattle, MF and I found a tiny studio in a sketchy part of downtown. We hardly had any furniture: an ugly table and a tatami mat we slept on. That kind of said it all. After a very sad year of living in the studio, we found our charming one-bedroom and I immediately wanted to make it look more like a home. Finances being what they were, buying new things as I had gotten accustomed to was not going to happen. Around the corner from our old studio apartment was a small thrift store. On a whim, I stepped in and the musty, dusty smell immediately took me back to my parent's house. Then I saw it: a stylish, slightly distressed wooden desk with tapered legs. I couldn't believe it; it was less than $100.
Gradually, I found other comfortable and well-made pieces at incredibly reduced prices. My most recent purchase is a leather arm chair and ottoman for a whopping 10 bucks. The leather is beat up and needs a bit of re-upholstering, but it's such a comfy chair.
When I think back on my childhood now, I remember how my mother could make anything. She sewed me beautiful dresses. She constructed a massive make-believe world with a dog house converted into a fantasy castle surrounded by giant paperflowers. We had amazing costumes from flapper dresses to pirate outfits and if we ever needed anything (a sword, 3-d glasses, beakers for mock science experiments, anything), she found it in her arsenal of goods. Above all, I was constantly making stuff too. My mom taught me how to draw and sew and knit and cook from an early age and after decades of neglect, I'm re-learning the skills. I see now that the clutter was in fact a treasure trove of possibilities -- I had the richest possible childhood and would like to create the same for my own daughter.
I'm discovering that buying second hand doesn't mean compromising quality or style. And just because something is cheap and used doesn't mean it needs to be purchased (the pitfall of thrifting from what I've seen). That's just as bad as overspending on some useless shiny gadget. I fully advocate recycling and re-using and love that our apartment is filled with slightly battered but well-made products. I want to continue to develop my crafty side more because nothing really compares to homemade. This doesn't mean I won't splurge when I feel something is worth it, whether the item is new or used. It's all about balance. Because we live beneath our means on a regular basis, we have been able to enjoy the occasional luxurious perks guilt-free. This, to me, is true quality living.
