The industry of old things = a new way to think. A better way of saying “repurpose” or “get-ridda-da-junk.”
Not “off with the old, bring on the new.” No angst or bad breath from stale air.
No antiques in my attic.
(no attic, either. I live in California where attics and basements are absent. Not because of earthquakes’ hazards, mind you, but because of haste. Thousands of people want to live in constant sunshine with proximity to the beach, so houses were/are built fast.)
I’ve been opening cupboards and closets and drawers. (thank heaven no insects or ickies flew out)
My purpose has been to repurpose, to energize.
A fabric remnant became a new family room valance, one that stretched across the expanse of four windows. A fourteen-foot expanse. To help frame a wild blue yonder view and a pool. Our playland of peace, pleasant nature, and joy: our backyard.
Abandoned Christmas ornaments – due to a new color scheme, from flashy red and neon green, to subdued burgundy – and fake Christmas greens became an ab-glam wreath. “Welcome,” our door says. “Warm and wonderful people live here and they want to get to know you. Enter!”
An assortment of beads and buttons and fake mini-pearls – removed from a beloved sweater that bloomed one too many holes from being over-worn – were sown onto ripped jeans to add cache. The rips? Added naturally by a tumble on our sidewalk. No bones were broken, but the denim was marred. Well, not. People are spending buckets of cash to have jeans like I prepared. Perhaps, I need a shopping foray, to select just the right shoes and top to help me show off my industry and acumen…
Agree with me, Constant Reader – this is my blog = my POV rules 😉 I’m crafty. Crowning by creativity’s achievement feels great.