One of my most beloved pieces is this coffer, from 19th century Provence.
When I first saw this handmade, hand painted beauty in the dusty corner of an antique shop, I knew she belonged with me. And home she came immediately, even though I had to negotiate, twist & turn and practically beg to come up with the money for it.
And again, we ate oatmeal for a month...
But every time I look at it, I feel the sun of Provence.
~*♥*~
I confess. I like OddMollyisms. Here's today's pick:
The Source:
~*♥*~
Haha!
I'm still standing but the mess in my bedroom is no more.
Feeling like so...
[caption id="attachment_7869" align="aligncenter" width="500" caption="Photo from the net, by somebody very talented"]
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PS.
Everything nice, clean and fresh that happens in this household, I owe to my darling friend. Who came over (with chocolate!), tidied, cleaned and folded stuff that I've been too exhausted to do for almost a year.
After she was done with everything else, she still - get this! - ironed my bed sheets.
Nobody has been this sweet to me...
And words do not describe how sweet it is to sleep in those sheets.
My friend and I have gone through thick and thin - and every possible and impossible obstacle in addition - together. And thanks to her, even I'm starting to feel that we'll get through this one too.
If and when you read this, I just wanna say.
I wouldn't have gotten this far without you.
Thank you.
Love you.
~*♥*~
I really like the lyrics on this one.
You can just feel that the songwriter is a woman.
And however uncool it may be, tonight, her words are getting underneath my skin.
~*♥*~
This morning I attacked a mission impossible.
To sort out my vintage bags, gloves, accessories... All those beautiful trinkets that have no place of their own in our tiny home so they just lie around in haphazard piles.
To stay sane in this process, I repeat Viktor Egelund's words as a mantra:
"Done is better than perfect."
My grandmother was also a gatherer. She loved all things beautiful and her house was full of treasures. I loved playing with her jewellery, clothes, bags, belts...
[caption id="attachment_7832" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="The gorgeous wedding photo of my grandparents, shamelessly buried under my unruly mess"]
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My grandmother had a coffee set, with a single deep red rose in each cup. Those were the most beautiful cups I'd ever seen. We weren't allowed to touch them when we were little, but I dreamed of one day having one of those cups, all of my own.
So.... ever since I was a student I've toured antique markets, shops and auctions, buying those - now considered antique - cups, one at a time... And I've managed to collect 30 of them!
They're in full use too; to be enjoyed, not just preserved.
[caption id="attachment_7843" align="aligncenter" width="500" caption="Those rosecups - a little touch by my grandmother"]
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My grandmother was a celebrated beauty in her heyday. She really was traffic-stoppingly gorgeous. Whenever she went to a photo shop to have her picture taken, the shop kept her photo in the window as and advertisement - until she came back next year, to have another photo taken.
She was also the first woman in Kotka to drive a car. Very progressive, if you ignore the little things, such as fences or traffic signs that she habitually run over en route...
Kröhm. I just realised that in addition to gathering all things wonderful, we have something else in common... I wonder if people told her she drives like a mad Frenchman (woman). I get that a lot.
My most priced possession in the world are old photo albums from the family. I couldn't care less if they're torn and worn - they couldn't be more dear to me.
In this one, my father around the age of one, and my grandmother ♥♥♥.
~*♥*~
