Not in a consumeristic, materialistic way but in a way that I would read into the 'stuff'. My love of stuff came from the hours and hours in which I would fossick around in grandpa's shed, or the afternoons I would spend rearranging mums' dressing table or laying out the contents of her bag. For me, the bits and pieces would represent lives and tells stories. It was more of an archelogical mission, an anthropological undertaking, connecting myself with these people in my life, these people that I hold so dear.
Fast forward a few decades and now I surround myself with stuff that means something: furniture and art made by loved ones, textiles and tea sets bought at the op shop, crates repurposed to give new life and so on. All my stuff has a personality, a story, a previous life. And it is this kind of stuff that gets me excited.
There is a gem of an antique store south of Sydney in Bulli, a town wedged between an escarpment and the sea. The store is called Black Diamond Antiques and it literally is a grandpa's shed-type store, filled with amazingness from yesteryear that spills out into the overgrown back garden (watch out for the water dragons!). Don, the owner, is always ready with a cup of tea and has a gentle and generous manner. I have spent mornings fossicking (and creating front window displays) and marvelling in the discoveries. Sydney vintage stores have NOTHING on Don's shop and I can only hope that one day, I will have my own grandpa's shed store in which I can fossick and tinker to my hearts content.
No comments:
Post a Comment