Yesterday ... all my troubles seemed so far away ...

I was just thinking the other day, about my love of vintage treasures.  Where did it come from?  For as long as I can remember, I've never really liked 'shiny' new things, but much preferred faded and worn things ... items with a history and a tale to tell.

When I was seven or eight years old, we moved home to the other side of town ... to a much bigger house than the one in which I was born.  My youngest brother was on the way, and our little house just wasn't big enough for a family of  six.

Our new house was Victorian, and had all the original features - high ceilings with cornicing, corbels, spindled banisters and tall, mirrored fireplaces downstairs, and cast iron ones in 3 of the 4 bedrooms. I LOVED this house then ... the smells  ... of polish and Brasso, the little scullery off the kitchen with a separate pantry that I used to play shops in (I had to wear my coat, mind), that my Dad later knocked down so that he could build a garage in its place.

One of my first memories of this house is moving-in day ... it was Easter Saturday, and we were despatched to my Godparent's house (my favourite Aunty and Uncle)  for the day. In the evening they took us home. When we entered the kitchen, there was a fire burning brightly in the grate ... I've longed for a house with a fireplace in the kitchen ever since ...

This was the late 60's and 'original features' weren't really a desired commodity when buying a house.  Lots of people, my own parents included, had the ethos 'out with the old and in with the new', and modernised with a capital M. The fireplaces were removed one by one, electric units were put in their place. Walls were stripped of any floral loveliness, replastered and papered with up-to-the-minute wallpaper, wooden and tessallated tiled floors were covered with fitted carpets which immediately cut down the draughts, but weren't as pleasing to the eye (or my eye, anyway!)

The dividing wall between the two reception rooms came thundering down and was replaced with sliding doors and shelves with Flemish glass.  I remember my Mam holding a cheese and wine party so that the neighbours could come and see her new doors ... they were oohed and aahed over and lots of them soon placed orders with the builder. They were my Mam's pride and joy, and home to her collection of Pen Delfin rabbits.

My childhood home had evolved from Victorian house with 30's decor to retro 60s paradise ... this wasn't to my taste, but my parents had grown up during the war and wanted to inject some colour and style into their new home. A lot of these houses have now undergone another transformation ... having the original features reinstated!

The look I aspire to is not only my childhood home in its original state, but also my Nana's home ... it shines brightly in my mind, and lots of things in my home now are identical twins to things that could be found at Nana's. She lived in a house not ten minutes from where I live now, the walls were all chalky white, except for the bathroom, which was powdery pink.  It was always spotlessly clean and smelled of breadmaking and polish, even though Nana smoked liked a chimney!

She had a wash house off the kitchen that housed a large copper for boiling the clothes, a dolly tub and a large iron mangle ... I'm not saying she used these on a daily basis, in fact I don't remember seeing them in use, but they were brought from her old house probably because there was somewhere to put them.  What I would give to have these now ... I can just see the mangle with a row of plant pots, beside the dolly tub full of flowers! (Keeping my bike company, of course).

On many a Sunday afternoon I'd get the bus to Nana's and spend the afternoon with her ... I'd have my tea there; tinned salmon salad with Heinz Salad Cream and home made bread, followed by tinned peaches and Carnation 'cream'.  We'd watch The Golden Shot together (Bob Monkhouse, Anne Aston and Bernie the Bolt) with a paper bag of Coconut Mushrooms or Raspberry Ruffles between us, hoping that my uncle's name had been picked out to win the money, as he was disabled and we'd sent a letter in. Happy, happy days ...

Where does your love (or hate) of vintage come from? What is the story behind the style that you have chosen?

I think I can safely say that my love of vintage takes me back to a time when life was carefree, the only worry in the world was having to learn your seven times table by Monday, and everyone who I loved was safe and well ...

Have a wonderful week, my lovelies ...

Love, Claire xxx