Yesterday at an estate sale I stood inside the aqua-painted kitchen with orange and yellow floral curtains of a small, nondescript 1950's house and sorely wished each of you, my vintage-loving friends, stood there with me.
The colors! Beside that aqua kitchen was a peachy-pumpkin living room and hallway, a 50's green in one bedroom, aqua in the other two. Most likely this family had lived with wood flooring for the first 20 years then had a goldy-mix carpet installed around 1972--incredible stuff--for it hadn't even worn down to the floor in the hall. But nearly so.
An ironing board set-up in the back aqua bedroom still had its 1970's cover, all the drapes everywhere were from the 50's, 60's or 70's and the kitchen's dishes were from those eras, also. The kitchen cabinets were all original and the formica table in the corner held ceramic roosters and carnival glass.
Such a basic, one-story, house! Most likely, it's owners never had any real money--the only update I noticed was a new front door, but everything else seemed unchanged and not even cute, actually, but oh! I wanted to stand there forever.
I realized--again--that I feel best amongst vintage items and retro colors and small rooms. I thought, "I should toss anything in our house which you'd not have found there in 1979. Walking into my own house should zap me with dreaminess this way!"
Of course, I realize it's popular for people nowadays to give-in to pressure to replace old things with brighter! Newer! More modern! stuff. And I also realize it's possible for me to go all bonkers while coveting vintage finds, for it works both ways and always there must be balance at whichever end of the spectrum we spend our lives.
And so, (reminding myself to remain content), I'll keep walking through these Time Capsule Homes and pity no one who spent long lives inside them, but rather, feel happy that they married and then created a family inside just one house, caring with a joyful type of gratitude for what they owned, never packing a moving van, never buying a larger (brighter!, newer!, more modern!) place.
Hopefully they didn't waste time yearning for more. After all, most of Life is what happens inside our hearts and heads and I step through these rooms where people laughed or lay sick in bed or loved or cried, hoping they realized that type of contentment as their lives played-out within those walls.
And I always thank them, each one, when I wander dreamily to our car, for reminding me to create my own simple life and live inside it with contentment, joy and a great big God who makes each day unique, special and to be remembered.
Did I buy anything at this estate sale? Only two retro, like-new dishtowels. But at another sale I found this 1970's Avon piece for a quarter:
(That's someone else's online photo...). This looks very spiffy on my kitchen window sill!
Tom and I have probably walked through more than 20 such houses in all our years here in NY. Truly, a treasure from our area and I consider each experience a personal present from the One who knows what I love best.