Over the past few years I've grown some very firm ideas about décor, which have grown organically without any contrivance. Like with most things deemed 'artistic' or even deemed matters of 'taste', it takes a while to find your groove, doesn't it?
You start off liking everything, or nothing, like a bird in an aviary without a song of your own, and eventually after being submerged in ideas or influences you begin to notice the notes that do it for you, the tone that you like, the rhythm that makes your heart beat a bit faster and, without trying and without really knowing how, you have a song of your own.
My song resides firmly in mid-century modern, which is probably a bit of a cliché, but unashamedly so, since it is an authentic love. When I see items from that era they have to power to take my breathe away and to make my heart beat a little faster. I love the lines, the angles, the colours - it's all so beautiful.
Part of my particular song is also deeply embedded in thrift culture. This is convenient for me due to the fact that, as someone who hasn't got two brass pennies to rub together, I would not be able to furnish my house if I didn't thrift! But more than that, it is something I actively choose.
I remember
one crafty lady (in a good way!) commenting somewhere years ago that when it came to retro items she couldn't see the point in buying new things styled to look old when you could get the
real thing instead. And that makes perfect sense to me - part of the reason I thrift is to get
the real thing. And that's not a perfect art, because the nature of thrift is sporadic - the art of thrifting is a lesson in patience, an acceptance of luck or fate.
In my whole house, apart from wallpaper and paint (and admittedly a generous collection of indie handmade prints), I can think of only two things that have not been thrifted, and one of those was a gift. All the nick-nacks, ornaments, furniture, and what-have-you have all resulted from a moment of bliss at a charity shop - moments where the treasure hunting has resulted in a punch-the-fist-in-the-air type score.
It is in this way that home décor can be raised from pastiche to genuine eclectic style. I don't know if our home would ever be regarding as 'stylish' or 'tasteful' by anyone else, but the fact that we now have corners in our home that sing my song is making 'home' somewhere I'd rather be than anywhere else.
And if I ever get
The Sofa of My Dreams to be part of that song? Oh that would be good too.
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