playing house
finding a sense of home & belonging(s)
I bought her at a store called Grampy's, from a legendary antiques dealer, Nancy Powers, who died much too soon.
Her displays and collections came alive in every nook and cranny of the shop. After years of visiting her store and set ups at antiques shows, she invited me to her home. It was "the middle of nowhere Illinois". Every inch was styled with oodles of collectibles and her own brand of whimsy.
The pretty pink vintage armoire I bought from Nancy, was not for a baby girl to be, it was for me. She resembles Barbie furniture come to life, with a Shabby Chic spin. It houses a small dowel for clothes on the right, and the left door opens to a few open shelves and drawers. I have always stashed my jewelry, scarves, belts and skirts inside. It is a dreamy assortment of my vintage accessories and treasured keepsakes. Once my daughter Emma and I were photographed with it for a New York Times article on closets.
This pink wooden antique, has its original chippy paint finish, a scalloped edge at the top back edge and it's "as is" vintage provenance which suits me just right.
It has now found pride of place in so many homes. The first, 1122 Clark. A vanilla high rise that desperately needed some character. Then 3400 Lakeshore where it looked grand in the beachy decor of our top floor digs of the Deco mid-rise. She was carefully moved cross country to 18 Crest, a cute Cape Cod in Chappaqua, that was short on storage. I photographed the interior before the move, so that I could set it all up just as it was in every old address.
A larger home at 1 Quaker Lane was up next, and she took up a pretty wall amid a gallery of artwork in the primary.
Unbelievably, we were transferred back to Chicago and a different floor and apartment back at 3400. Still earning her prime time status, she held the tv on her tiny shoulders in my bedroom. I unpacked her once more, filled with my precious cargo and memories. Cards from my daughter Emma, passports, birth certificates, the yellow and white polka dot jewelry roll that was my mother's---now gone 30 years. I shuffled her old sunglasses along to all of the addresses inside. The sand from her beach bag and these Jackie O-inspired specs were with her on the last of her days.
This pink treasure chest became mine in a divorce, not long after my second daughter Quinn was born. We stayed for a year in the apartment, renting back from the buyer. The local mover rolled her over two blocks to a rental at 449 Aldine. A third floor walk up. I was afforded the magical opportunity to refresh the apartment with the owner. As an editor and stylist at the time, I was over the moon to make it mine and offer my time and services to the land-lady. About 2000 square feet all over one floor. It was a vintage beauty in need of a refresh. Her Pinkness joined me once more in the boudoir.
My Mom died in 1993 and I have not had a family "home" to return to for many years now. Home is elusive and simultaneously wherever my beloved people reside. Two girls now and new husband and pup. I have made so very many addresses my own with a stash of collected treasures from flea markets, antiques stores and thrifty stops on travels. I have repurposed many into new spaces calling them into service in new ways. When these pieces show up and artwork is hung, there is a familiarity that takes shape.
We recently moved from a 1930s grey stone in Chicago, where "pinky" lived once more in a new primary bedroom for nearly a decade. A big cross country hike back east had me selling, sale-ing and editing so that only the most special pieces would come along. A major downsizing and empty nesting could not keep her from me.
I painted the new guest room ceiling a glossy carnation shade in celebration of her arrival. The tiny room holds her tightly beside the bed. My husband uses the closet in there for his wardrobe. Our things are polka dotted creatively amidst the petite three bedroom. When he asked me to move my things from the wardrobe so he could keep some of his inside, I fell apart. It seemed a big reaction to this small request. Tears ensued. Lots.
As the day passed, I dug deep for the why. Why? Because this is as close to a home as I have had in 30 years. This cupboard on casters has been a friend, companion and frequent guest star in all my my addresses to date. When she is there, I am home.
I acquiesced. Moved a few things to a dining room side-board, slash dresser and allowed him two petite drawers. They are each covered in pink and green floral Crabtree and Evelyn paper liners that have long ago lost their scent, but never their fond familiarity.
I added a tiny alabaster lamp and new pink polka dotted shade atop, a few framed photos and she looks as pretty as ever. My youngest came home from school and slept here for the first time at Thanksgiving and said it was cozy. She too noted how familiar it all felt, though a brand new address for us all.
No matter the zip code, state or state of my marriage or motherhood, this steady pink companion remains home incarnate.