When the boys were younger, and our house emptier, I used to go thrifting at least once a week, often more. It was like a weekly treasure hunt and I hardly ever came home empty-handed. I didn’t really think things through and brought anything remotely lovely home. I have furnished my home with mostly thrifted treasures. And the books! My, they fill a room (they really do).
Eventually, though, this small house filled up, and weekly treasure hunts became monthly, bi-monthly, bi-yearly, and now rarely. A lot of things were given back as, although I loved them, they were now clutter.
Since those early days I’ve become a little more savvy. I no longer buy things because ‘they’re there’, but because I need them or will use them. I’m prepared to walk away and I think that’s a good habit to develop in any retail situation.
But. Oh when I DO find treasures they still manage to give me a little high – mostly these days it’s linen and buttons that come home with me. Or cutlery (where do those spoons go?). Or pretty tins (I manage to say ‘no’ to most of them).
Plans are afoot for going a bit further afield for more vintage finds as I prepare for my first ever antique fair recce later on in the year. I’m quite giddy at the prospect of spending a WHOLE day BY MYSELF looking at random old things hoping to find a few treasures. In fact, even if I don’t find anything it won’t matter. I don’t care. It’s the searching that’s the most fun of all. And if I manage to find a few things on my list – a jumbo flyer for the spinning wheel, some enamel candlestick holders, possibly a new (old) fireside chair – well, that will be a bonus.