I've always had an affinity for anything old. Objects that, when held in your hands, transport you back to days of yore and invoke you to conjure up an image of their original owner and use; items that have, today, become obsolete.
I'm not sure what it is about these relics that gets me so excited, but I've always been this way. When I was young, I loved old buildings, grave sites, cars, anything that I was not familiar with. My curiosity went even further back than what would be referred to as 'vintage' and into ancient times -mummies, tombs, clothing, scripts, any artifacts of extinct civilisations; anything that even
resembled something old. These always sparked an interest and I wanted to know anything there was to about them. I was thirsty for knowledge of anything from what I referred to as "the olden days". My mum used to suggest that I should be an archaeologist when I "grew up" and I held that idea in my mind for years, even looking into (for about thirty seconds) anthropology as a post secondary study.
I think my interest in the more recent past was brought on by my mother's own fondness for articles from another, earlier life, be it her own or someone else's. For as long as I can remember, she's been making trips to the local second hand store and coming home with tokens from another time and I relished in these trinkets, taking them and turning them over and over in my hands conjuring up those aforementioned images. She would bring vintage dish sets, vases, art deco alarm clocks, lamps, and furniture. She has a collection of milk jugs around the kitchen window sills and a shelf dedicated to antique hand painted tea cups and saucers. When I was young, I'm not sure what she did with these collectibles; I think she may have saved them all for gifts but in later years she began selling them on ebay for pocket change.
Not only does Yvonne love finding these rarities, but she has a knack for it; an eye like I've never seen. I always thought she should be a buyer for some high end antique store, or be her own shop keeper, but she is adamant that there isn't any money in it, and it's just a hobby. --I've seen the price they charge in Vancouver antique stores and I believe she could definitely eke out a living but whatever--
This is one of the only traits that was passed down to me from my mother (I've always tended more towards the paternal side of my bloodline, whether by choice or genetics, I'm not sure.) and we spend hours geeking out over pieces of furniture, bakelite, fiestaware and vintage jewelry. Although I've been blessed with her love of anything from the past, I have not been gifted with her eye and don't take to the thrift store with a vengeance, exiting with a new living room. The two things I have taken to collecting though, are aprons (little known fact) and brooches and since I can remember, I've been envisioning my dream house. It would have hard wood and tile floors, an enclosed front porch (or solarium), large windows, a fire place, and be decked out in vintage, right down to the fixtures. At this moment in time, this seems to be every hipster's Eden, but I like to think my dream is a little more organic due to the fact that this has been a life long aspiration.
A few years ago, I learned that anything older than 25 years is considered vintage. I will be 25 on Friday. This is weird to me. 25 was always how old other people were. Obviously any age you are not is the age of another, but 25 always seemed to me that it would never come. Now it's knocking on my door and I don't have a career, a husband or a brood of children as I always assumed I would. Don't get me wrong; I'm not complaining, I've always loved getting older but I've learned that there is no way you can know where you will be by a certain age. You've just gotta roll with the punches. 25 is an age I always looked forward to for whatever reason. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I now can be categorised with these treasures I hold so dear because on Friday, I will be vintage and that's kind of cool.
superpoop
