Little Things

This week has been a revelation. I now know exactly why I'm such a magpie, such an impulse girl! Now that I'm pulling everything out of closets and basement and boxes, it's so obvious!

I have no taste.

None. Nada. Zip.

What, you were expecting the secret of the universe? Maybe it is. I didn't say I have bad taste, after all, but I have no idea whatsoever of my decorating style, nor do I have a single clue on how to implement it even if I find out. I blame it all on the empty mantel.

Saying I have several things to sell is like saying the Atlantic has several fish. It's kitch, mostly - 50's things, metal shelves, bark cloth, ceramic figures, and chenille. Why did I buy it? Simple - it was all cheap and easy to find, what I could afford (and afford to lose to moves) while the Trips were small, and while my elves were busy with my money. Why did I keep it and keep buying it? That's more complicated.

My grandmother collected salt and pepper shakers and filled her home with them, and with milk glass (specifically English Hobnail). She had two mirrored niches flanking the front door in which she put her many Hummel figurines, bird ceramics, and (I think) thimbles. She had corner shelves in every room, covered with porcelain flowers and "smalls"- little pitchers and animals and doll-house furniture - with doilies (yes, doilies!) under everything. She moved into that house in 1923, and it showed.

Yep, I have many of those things - not hers, which went otherwhere after she passed on, but my own, things that I've been picking up even more so since we bought this house. I've been rediscovering it all week as I pulled for the yard sale. It has made me realize that I secretly want to recreate the only stable home I ever had. Grandma's. Ceramics and all.

Trouble is, I'm not Grandma - that's why it's in boxes, duh! And I'm not my mom, who loves formal crystal and statuary and gilt. And I'm not my aunt (history buff), nor am I my friends (not a single common thread), nor even what all of my 21 moves made me into (decorate on the cheap because things break). So what am I?

I honestly haven't the slightest idea any more.

Well, maybe one or two thoughts. I do love milk glass - mine is very different from Grandma's (figural boxes, mostly, not hobnail). And, yes, I have birds, but more Audubon and Spode than Lefton (though there are three). Few salt and peppers, except the lobsters (because I like lobsters). A bit of crystal, like Mom, but cake plates only - I love carnival glass more than crystal. History - not a bit of history, but historical things, things with a past, I love.

I also love Arts and Crafts homes. Filled with Newcomb pottery, Stickley furniture, Morris wall coverings, Van Erp Lamps, these bungalows - small, simple, and "green" by today's standards - are harmonious with nature, full of rock and polished wood and earth-toned glass, just stunning and amazingly warm.

Okay, I also love 30's and 40's glam. The Diva in me craves Venetian mirrors, and rhinestones or diamonds set in silver or platinum or gold, and bed hangings made of satin or lame. I love swing music, and chunky heels, and Rosie the Riveter. I love the tall doors that Myrna Loy swept through as Nora Charles in The Thin Man, anything Greta Garbo touched in Grand Hotel, the silk pajamas Carole Lombard wore in My Man Godfrey - even the furs (though I prefer faux) that Jean Hagen wore in Singing in the Rain.

Unfortunately, I live in a brick ranch ironically (because it's just boxes in boxes) called a "rambler," and I shop at J.C. Penny and the Home Depot. What am I supposed to do with all these images and emotions clamoring in my head?

Oh, I know the traditional wisdom - get a touch of what you adore, put a pop of this and an inch of that, give the "impression of" or the "hint of." I've been watching decorating shows for years. I even took a design quiz before I wrote this sentence. While fun to do, it told me I go for traditional (timeless, elegant) and, big surprise, that transitional and Arts and Crafts are my styles. (Where's Candace Olsen when you need her?)

Ah, well, I'll give it another shot. I'll pull all Grandma-ish things, and Mama-ish things, and see what kind of nothing I have left. Then I will fill it - I will buy what I'm drawn to and use what I buy. No more boxes, no more packrat, no more excuses, and no more little things.

Only love. And a whole lot of Windex.