Tommy (my husband) and I went for a little weekend getaway to celebrate our one year anniversary, even though we were about a month late. It’s hard to get away, ya know.
On our journeys we stopped at Fallingwater, a Frank Lloyd Wright home in South Western PA. It was fabulous. I practically had to drag Tommy there kicking and screaming, but I think he enjoyed it almost more than I did. I highly suggest checking it out if you’re ever in the area, and I can only imagine any FLW house would be equally fascinating to tour.
I had my first upcycling fail on Sunday night. My awesome two tier end table that had been sitting next to my love seat was screaming for a rehab. We purchased it second hand and it just wasn’t cutting it anymore.
The problems began when I realized it wasn’t anywhere close to real wood, or to having a real wood finish. I should have used my oil base primer, but it’s a pain to work with so lazy me trusted water based. First mistake. Then, I thought I’d use some left over paint from my kitchen. I love it on the wall so why wouldn’t I love it on a table. It was just terrible. I couldn’t get it to cover nicely, the color just looked all wrong, and I’m pretty sure that the finish on the “wood” seeped through 3 layers of primer and 2 layers of paint. I tried to shabby chic it, thinking the lack of total coverage could be made to look intentional, but that just made it worse.
So chalk that one up to experience. I’m sure I’ll stumble across many more situations like that in the future, but I can’t help but feeling a little defeated on this.
New products up, including a wine rack and a mail and key holder. They’re pretty adorable if I do say so myself. An equally adorable jewelery box coming soon too!
On New Year’s Day, the row of houses directly across the street from me suffered a terrible fire, leaving six homes unlivable. Thankfully, no one was injured (except one cute little kitty, but she’s all healed up now), but it took seven months before the families were able to move back into their homes.
My block is just getting back on its feet, each of the houses slowly filling up. It’s a scary thing to know how close to tragedy we all were, and how lucky I am that my address ends with an odd number.
Tonight, my newly-moved-back-in neighbor gave me and my husband a tour of her now renovated house. It had to be totally gutted, and she was given complete control over the new design. Her place is breathtakingly gorgeous. It’s still filled to the brim with boxes and unplaced furniture, but her ultimate vision shines through the moving mess. Her love of upcycling and repurposing has solidified my new found interest in the art form. I wish I had pictures to show, but her cream kitchen with a hint of lime green, her beautiful mid-century modern slat board coffee table and her indescribable white marble bathroom made her house by far the best designed house in which I’ve ever set foot.
Out of her move may come my first commissioned upcycling job. A dresser and desk rehabbed to shabby chic to match her “Hampton’s Suite” guest room. She of course has the ability to do the work herself, but can’t take on any more projects. I’ve only been venturing into this commercial endeavor for a week now, and it seems like my business is already growing in unexpected directions.
I finished a new piece tonight as well, a blue drop leaf table. I can hardly bring myself to sell it, I’m glad I don’t have enough room to hoard all this furniture.
After, starting my etsy store on Sunday, I’ve almost completed my first sale, which is a pretty amazing feeling. My hand-painted dresser and nightstand should be shipped out to Georgia early next week.
My husband may be less thrilled about the sale when he needs to build a create to ship the thing.
A young girl starting college and moving into her first apartment bought the set, and while I was finishing putting a few extra coats of varnish on the furniture I got to thinking about when I started college, moved into a new state and got my first apartment. I hate to sound like an old person here, but it really feels like it was only a year or two ago, but it has been nearly decade.
I remember how new and important that move felt, and how painstakingly deliberate every piece of decor I put out became. I didn’t expect this feeling, but I feel all sappy about being a part of someone else’s first experience in the real world.
Which has brought me to my next crafting inspiration, one for myself and not my store. I still have that tattered old tapestry I bought on the quad my first week of classes, that I hung in every apartment I ever had until I got married. Not exactly sure what I want to come of it, but I’m glad that my silly nostalgic streak never allowed me to throw it out.