Bedroom: The piece that made my heart stop

I never thought it possible that I could get excited about a piece of furniture. I would have laughed in your face if you’d told me that I’d be spending more time in flea markets and antique shops than in boutiques and salons. But it’s true. This renovation has created a monster.

1850s French empire complete with remants of the original manufacturer's sticker

1850s French empire complete with remnants of the original manufacturer’s sticker

Recent visitors to Budapast EK and JG talked about their purchases ‘speaking to them’. And I can relate to this. Except that when this wardrobe was sitting in a shed at Esceri among lots of other furniture, half-hidden by a table and tucked away in the corner, it didn’t so much speak as whisper. And it was a very soft whisper. But it registered.  I went back again to see it and then, after many phone conversations that seemed to involve the nation (really me saying and having others say for me  ‘I don’t have the cash’ ) I gave in. I admit I occasionally allow myself to feel pressurised into buying things and can, on a bad day, buy something purely because whoever I’m shopping with likes it. On these bad days, I can’t make a decision to save my life and am happy to do whatever. Thankfully, they’re few and far between and are causing less trouble the older I get! (That stool with legs made from jeans tucked into workman’s boots, and a seat made from a check shirt and braces still haunts me!)

It wasn’t until it was delivered to the flat and took up residence in my bedroom that it really started speaking to me – and it speaks volumes.

I remember years ago in Myrtle Beach visiting a Ridley museum and spending ages in front of the funny mirror that made you look really thin. I couldn’t decide if I liked what I saw. Having spent years dieting to get that ‘perfect figure’, when I saw how I’d look, I couldn’t decide if I liked the look of me. Mind you, it hasn’t stopped the sporadic dieting but at least it did kill any aspirations I had to squeeze into a size 10.

If you stand in front of these mirrors, where the doors overlap, you cannot see your reflection. And yet, move a millimetre to either side and there you are. Magic.

And magical it is. I can’t explain it really. There is just something incredibly beautiful about its fine lines. Something timelessly classic about its bearing. Something ageless in its beauty. And yet it’s solid. And very ‘there’. It has a presence. Come to think of it, that sounds a lot like my mother! mmmm…

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  1. […] And this is when it hit me. I am morphing into my mother. Mind you, it’d be no bad thing as she’s one amazing woman. I had a couple of papers to finish before I finally crashed to be woken this morning by a call to […]

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