antique

by

Vintage Green Love

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I have been holding out on you.

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That sounds worse than it is. You see, I just assume that after I write a story, you have read it and will know what I mean even before I have published it here. But there are so many stories I need to publish and maybe then I will be understood… Or not.

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Same with my closet. I think that you must know what lurks in the depths of it. But how could you? When I, myself, often overlook things.

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Like this dress.

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I bought it at the beginning of the year. Felt bad about buying it. Stashed it in My Closet of Guilt and never wore it.

As one does.

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But I came upon it last week and fell in love.

It is a vintage dress purchased from Etsy. I love shopping for vintage clothes on Etsy. There are a plethora of beautiful pieces. With so many different sellers, the prices vary, so it is a good idea to look around. I cannot believe the prices some sellers ask for both low and high. Check the seller’s feedback for reviews. Check their social media and Etsy home page to see if they are running any coupon codes. My dress was $64 and I thought this was fair.

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It is the very best color. An odd shade of green that takes on different hues depending upon how the light hits it.

It has the most amazing embroidery of deep blues and bright pinks tickled through with tiny mirrors. Yes, tickled.

The bracelet is from World Market a few months ago (similar here). Have you been to World Market lately? They are killing it in the jewelry department.

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I took these pictures at my dad’s house. I liked how the Juniper Tree matched my dress. My husband, the photographer, did not like the matching. He wished for more contrast.

I feel the same way about the model’s thighs.

You work with what you have.

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The only thing I can remember about Juniper Trees growing up is that coyote feces is full of Juniper berries. And so I avoided any and all Juniper Trees as a child, positive that there were coyotes lurking beneath each and every one.

Speaking of coyotes, I am no longer afraid. Our cluster of homes sit upon the edge of our town. This means frequent coyote spottings as we venture out. Two days ago, it was pouring rain in California. My husband saw a soaking wet, miserable looking, coyote dart into the bushes in front of his car.

It was all that he spoke of that day. He said it was the saddest sight. The coyote looked thin and bewildered by its wet surroundings.

There are not very many Juniper Trees here.

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Did you grow up around wild things? Do you own a vintage dress? Do you store it and not wear it or wear it all of the time? Do you know odd facts about animal feces? Or is that just me?

*I shared this on The Pleated Poppy and Reasons To Dress.

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The “Haunted” Antique Chest

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Antiques. A link to the past. I love to visit antique shops, flea markets, and estate sales. Finding the perfect piece of history. It is thrilling. It is always fun to imagine the stories behind an item you have purchased.

The first antique I ever purchased was with my husband at Anthropologie, of all places. We were young. We were struggling. It was my birthday. I loved to go down to Santa Monica and lay on the beach and then go and browse at Anthropologie. I say browse, because I had never made one purchase there. I was twenty two. It was much too expensive.

My husband and I walked into the store and there was this chest. It was love at first sight. There were two more around it. The other two trunks were smaller and five times its price. I have no idea why. We debated about it, but ultimately decided it was too expensive. The chest was $400.

We left. We came back a week later. It was the only one left. My husband bought it for me for my birthday. He also purchased me two light switch covers. I still have all three gifts. I use them everyday.

So, it was our first big purchase as newlyweds. And our first antique purchase. And what do you think we worried about? The cost? No. We had worked it out in the week leading up to its purchase. Where to put it? No. We lived in a two story condo all by ourselves and we had very minimal furniture. Then what?

Ghosts. We worried about the piece being haunted.

So, what did we do?

We carted the chest up to our bedroom and watched a scary movie.

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We tried to get to sleep, but the chest kept us awake. So, we watched another scary movie.

We are… smart.

At this point, it was 1:00 in the morning. We turned off all of the lights. But we both lay awake in the dark debating our purchase. We would whisper to each other.

“Are you scared?”

“No.”

“Are you scared?”

“YES!”

Followed by tears. I am not going to tell you whose answer is whose. I will leave it up to you.

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And, then, and I am not making this part up. A long howl rose through our condo. Screeching again and again.

I think we both lay there stunned.

At this point we both were terrified.

My husband was brave enough to turn on the lights. I lay there staring at the chest. I expected a banshee to leap from it and attack us at any moment.

My husband made his way towards the chest. Another howl.

He looked at me, “It’s not coming from the chest. It’s coming from downstairs.”

“The banshee got out!” I screamed.

I am great in a crisis.

My husband made his way downstairs. I lay curled up in our bed. I knew what was coming. I had seen enough horror movies. My husband was doomed. I was next.

My husband returned. Our cat was in his hands. “Kitty was doing it!” He exclaimed.

We stared at our banshee. Our cat, who happened to go into heat on the very night we purchased our first antique.

We got her fixed the next day.

The night howls ceased. Our banshee was exorcised. And our chest now holds nothing but linens.

And our dignity.

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Past Cards: I’m Still Waiting For That Letter that ancer

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I like to share my collection of vintage postcards here. I have not done one of these posts in awhile and I figured it was time again (other past card posts here and here).

It seems throughout time there have been unanswered lovers and letters.

When I saw this post card, I knew I wanted to own it. It combined both of the above. This is what it says:

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“hellow Jettie

Say I would like to no the reason I havent never got my ancer from my letter
Looks like you wood ancer
do so at once
ha ha
So good By

a Friend R”

I cringe at the grammatical errors, however, the postcard was sent in 1912 from a rural Kentucky town with a population of less than a 1,000. There were probably not a great many schools to choose from and a lot of hard work to be had.

The post card makes me sad. Sometimes it makes me wonder. Did the girl respond to the boy? Did they get married? Could I send this postcard to their children? What happened to the two individuals so long ago?

I wondered so much about this postcard that I did some research into the name that the card was addressed to. It seemed curious to me that if the girl in question did not want to answer the boy, then why would she keep the post card all of those years? Why not throw the card away? If she had thrown the card away, then I never would have purchased it. And I would not have looked up the girl to find her fate.

The woman who received this postcard was eighteen when it arrived in her mailbox. Her name was Jettie. I find that I like that name.

This is what I learned about Jettie:

She never married.
She lived near a railroad.
Her family were farmers.
Her occupation is unlisted, so I assume she did not have one.
She passed away at the age of 59 in her home she shared with her sister.
She was buried in the family cemetery.
A Kentucky census listed her age as 19 in the year of 1910, but she was born in 1894, so the census was incorrect.
She was an Aquarius.

I wonder if the boy waiting for his ancer ever received one. If he did, it is obvious, it was not the one that he had been hoping for.

Did he ever marry? Did he attend Jettie’s funeral? What made Jettie keep the postcard all of those years (neither her, nor her three siblings, ever married. There has to be a story there. And I assume the possessions, including this post card, were sold or donated after the last sibling’s death by a distant relative or by the state)?

When I began researching this story, I had hoped for a better ending. One in which the boy won the girl over with a relentless stream of letters.

But maybe Jettie liked being independent. Or maybe she tossed and turned dreaming about the boy in another town as the train rumbled on the track and shook her bedpost so that it tapped against the wall in the exact rhythm of her heart. Or maybe she lost no sleep at all.

I, myself, toss and turn. And I wonder.

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Past Cards: This Is Your Little Girl

Every month, I pick one of my vintage post cards from my collection to share with you. It isn’t easy. I have a lot of them. And, I try only to buy the ones that make me laugh inside. If you missed last month’s you can find it here.

For this month, I picked a short but sweet one. It is dated Feb. 13, 1912:

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The front of the Post Card reads:

“Be The Day Rainy
Or Be The Day Fine
The Sunshine Comes With You
My Sweet Valentine”

It appears to be hand written. And, honestly, the picture appears to be hand painted. But it is raised and embellished, so I am unsure on that note.

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The back of the postcard reads:

Dear Edward this is your little girl. Isn’t she sweet.

Elizabeth

And, I know. I know I have a sick sense of humor that I find this card so funny that it brings tears to my eyes. But I just imagine Edward getting this post card and him looking at the illustration of the little girl and it just seems crazy to think he that thought that was his little girl.

And it was mailed from the same town to the same town. So, he was not someone overseas who had not seen his “little girl.”

I have to wonder what this card meant. And all of my theories point to poor Elizabeth being a bit addled in the head.

Also, this was a Valentine’s Card. Isn’t that an odd message to send on a Valentine’s card?

Over one hundred years ago, Master Edward received a Valentine’s Card with a cartoon drawing of a little girl on the front from Elizabeth.

And I have to answer Elizabeth’s question of, “Isn’t she sweet?” with a few of my own.

Elizabeth, what were your and Edward’s real names? I suspect based on the picture of your little girl that perhaps your initials really were O.O.

And, Popeye Edward, would you care for some spinach?