The Lost Weekend, Part II: Coddled on My Birthday

My oh my, but it has been a busy week!  Once again, with my tale of the latest Fairlington Exchange treasures , I led you Dear Readers down a path of search and discovery.  I kept you hanging for days on end with promises of yet even more flea market finds from the October 3^rd Arlington Civitan Flea .  I’d say it’s about time I made good on my promise!

At the close of my last account, Sharona had arrived at my home bright an early – 6:50 AM!  Coffee in hand, we proceeded to the spot in Arlington we had discovered only last month – the Arlington Civitan Flea Market, between the neighborhoods of Ballston and Clarendon.  Once again, we arrived in sufficient time to grab a great parking space.  Although the weather looked a bit foreboding, the parking area was quickly reaching capacity, and bleary-eyed shoppers were streaming into the parking structure that housed all the vendors.

Our very fist stop was to visit ‘Sam’ whom I had mentioned in last month’s Civitan episode.  Having purchased the pair of 1960’s gilded Florentine sconces from Sam in September, I was anxious to see her available wares for this month.  Although I was once again tempted by the set of vintage Noritake handle-soup cups with saucers, I was a bit disappointed that there were seven, and not eight, pair in the set. This being the most attractive of her offerings, Sharona and I decided to continue meandering through the impromptu shops to see all there was to be seen while I pondered the purchase.

Our next stop was at a table not far from Sam’s, on which was displayed quite a variety of odds-and-ends china, knick-knacks, and stoneware.  As Sharona and I browsed through the mix, the older lady manning the table was quick to point out that each piece we touched was “made in England…made in England…”.  It was quite a beguiling mantra, especially for us Anglophile wannabe’s!  There were quite a few saucers and such that caught my attention.  Yet, determined to make the best use of our time (and funds!), we moved on, leaving the obviously dejected English wares hawker in our wake.

While there appeared to be nearly as many vendors represented in the parking garage/flea mall as last month, Sharona and I both expressed that the quality of goods offered seemed a bit less than our previous experience.  Nonetheless, as we strolled through, there were some pieces that called to us:  a refurbished steamer trunk (also seen last month); a large (10’x14’) wool Persian rug of excellent quality, condition, and price; and, handcrafted mobiles/windchimes of found objects.  The last of these were particularly fascinating; made of such items as broken bottles, rusty horseshoes, and pieces of vintage porcelain faucets, the mobiles were incredibly unique and mesmerizing.  I wish I had remembered to get the artisans contact info; alas, I must hope that he participates in next month’s event – the last for the 2009 season. 

Eventually, we came upon a vendor whose table of various china pieces caused a fit of glee…. There, among the odd pieces of tableware and miscellany, sat FOUR king-sized (i.e. double) egg coddlers !  One was even in its original Royal Worcester box!  Dear reader, you may recall from an earlier post that I collect these darling crucibles of English porcelain, and coddlers are always on my radar when traipsing through any flea market or vintage store.  But in all my years, I have not come across FOUR double coddlers, all in pristine condition!  As if this discovery were not sufficiently sweet, the negotiated sales price was beyond reasonable.  Finally, I had found treasures at the day’s Flea that made the early wake-up time worthwhile!

Coddlers in hand, Sharona and I continued our quest.  By now, however, we were being particularly discriminating and judicious with the time spent in each vendor’s area.  You see, it was also my birthday (my Forever Age is, BTW, 27), and Sharona had promised me a breakfast of French toast/eggs/bacon at our fave Alexandria haunt, Atlantis .  Only such culinary delights could tear me away prematurely from a flea market (after all, even addicts have to eat). 

As we commandeered ourselves through the vendors’ tables and the meandering shoppers, we remembered to stop back by to see the Made in England matron.  Fortunately, several of the pieces I had admired earlier were still there, waiting to be claimed and incorporated into my own hodgepodge collection.  Intent on purchasing only one item (or, in this case one group of items), I chose a set of four bone china dessert plates (all Made in England, of course!).  Three of the plates are by Royal Grafton , and one by Regency .  From my Internet research, I discovered that all four were most likely made in the 1950s.  Although they are of two different manufacturers, the designs and shapes are remarkably similar, and they easily serve as a complete set.

As I was completing my sale, my attention was grabbed by another little piece I had seen during my earlier encounter with this vendor.  There, sitting among the more dainty floral china items, was a little pitcher of insanely green color and gold trim.  What was most intriguing about this vessel – aside from its vibrant coloring -- was it shape: rather squatty, with a squared wavy handle.  Quite honestly, I found it completey delightful!  (The pitcher is marked “Carlton Ware, Made in England”, and is stamped “1347/3”.  My research -- was there really life BI, Before Internet??-- indicates that this piece was made in the 1920s.  Indeed, the design is tres’ Art Deco.) Purchasing this item was most definitely a win-win, since the seller seemed as pleased to have made the sale as the buyer was in making the find!  Sharona also found a delightful set of china saucers (and, believe it or not, they were MADE IN ENGLAND!), so we parted ways with a very happy vendor.  (Actually, it was a bit difficult to tell if she was happy or not, being English and thus rather reserved, but we decided to project.)

By this time, the siren call of Atlantis’ French toast overwhelmed the waning promise of more vintage Flea finds.  Having decided to forego yet again the Noritake soup set Sam was offering, Sharona and I made our way to her convertible and, content with the few yet fabulous Flea items in our possession, proceeded to my birthday breakfast bonanza.  It was a morning of satisfaction on many levels!  Ah, 27 is such a lovely age!

The Lost Weekend, Part I: Exchange Night

I must begin this post, dear readers, with a note of sincerest apology.  Last week, I regaled you with a story of successes with my neighborhood’s monthly Exchange program,  and promised to relate the upcoming “First Saturday” adventures.  Then, as if that weren’t enough to cause sleepless anticipation, I dangled the “Civitan Flea Market ” carrot, with allusions to more potential Tales of Treasures Found.  However, here it is days and days later, and I have yet to satisfy the cravings I so devilishly induced.  I teased, but have yet to please.

In my defense (please accept this as a reason, and not as an excuse), I must confess that the results of my Friday and Saturday excursions were so deliriously satisfying, so intensely intoxicating, that it has taken me almost a week to recover sufficiently to speak of them.  It was indeed, this addict’s Lost Weekend.

As you know, Friday night was the eve of the ‘hood’s monthly Bulk Trash Pickup (a sordid epithet for such an eagerly anticipated event!).  Having dined on the Hill with Sig-O and the godsons, I had to excuse myself around 9 PM to engage in the night’s Exchange program. (Sig-O, resigned to the manifestations of my addiction, accepted my need to return home so early in the evening.)  Bidding a fond goodnight to The Guys, I hurried southward to hunt unknown bounty.

On the short drive home, my hopes of a gleeful night of trash digging were almost quite literally dampened by an unexpected rain shower.  My curses to the weather gods proved to be premature; the potential calamity passed before I turned into the neighborhood’s tree-lined entry, its sweeping brick pillars welcoming me like Bernini’s colonnade embraces visitors to St. Peter’s Square.   Indeed, sometimes the treasures awaiting one on Exchange night rival those found at the Vatican….

Traveling what has become my routine course on such nights, I immediately came upon a matching pair of wooden folding beach chairs, complete with canvas sling seats.  Convinced these must have been discarded because they were broken beyond repair, I was delighted to find that, while faded and in need of a good cleaning, they were completely functional and salvageable.  While not terribly ‘vintage’, they nonetheless made it into my Passat wagon.

Continuing the hunt, I had almost decided that the folding chairs would have to satisfy my cravings when I accidently turned down an unfamiliar street.  (My neighborhood, like so many in Arlington County, has streets of such convoluted design as to confound the most advanced GPS devices.)  However, it was a most serendipitous detour:  there, in the darkness of an ancient oak’s shadow, sat an undeniably vintage (dare I say, antique) wooden armchair!  My mind barely registered the chair’s condition before I had leapt out of the car to claim my find.  (I must admit that I am always engaging in these trash digging activities with at least a hint of trepidation; I have an irrational fear of absconding with a piece of claimed décor that someone has simply set by the curb while they retrieve their vehicle….Of course, such thoughts make the ravenous addict side of me all the more manic in claiming my fix!)

Fortunately I managed to fit my newest treasure amongst its more contemporary traveling companions, the beach chairs. The clouded moon provided barely enough light for me to observe that my new old chair was acceptably sound, although the cane backing was ripped and the cushioned seat was in dire need of new upholstery.  But, adhering to the “don’t-ask-where-it-will-go-or-for-what-purpose” rule, I gleefully returned home, satiated at last.

The next morning, Sharona was scheduled to arrive at my house by 6:50 so that we could arrive at the Arlington Civitan Flea Market shortly after opening.  Managing a scant 6 hours sleep, I was unable to sufficiently recover from my Vintage Vertigo stupor of the night before.  Nonetheless, I rallied – after all, The Hunt waits for no one!  Recalling the episode of the night before, I realized I had to empty my car of the recent acquisitions (to make room for any NEW acquisitions from the Flea!).  It was not til then that I got a good look at my latest vintage/antique piece.  As I had perceived upon first capturing my quarry, the chair seemed to be in reasonable shape; a few joints were loose, but the carvings were intact, and there was little damage to the wood itself.  The style perhaps is Edwardian; more research is necessary.  Regardless, I have been churning on how to refinish it, and I have some very quirky ideas to make this chair rather edgy – think “rocker chic”! 

The chair made it into my already crowded home.  But like the stereotypical crazy lady with a hundred cats, there’s always room for one more castaway.  Sharona arrived right on time, and since she agreed to drive to the Flea, the beach chairs were allowed to stay in the Passat (and eventually found their way into Sig-O’s garage….After all, once I paint the frames and dye the canvas, they should reside in  Rehoboth Beach!).

And THEN, at the Civitan Flea….Ah, but now you must wait for Part II of The Lost Weekend ("Coddled on my Birthday").  After all, I’m still recovering, and have to regain my strength….

French (Missed) Connection

Alas, dear readers, not every Dumpster Diving story has a happy ending.  Certainly there are many among the ranks of vintage décor hunters who have loved and lost:  finders of apparent vintage gems, who later discover their treasures are as irreparably broken as a butterfly’s wing.  However, what follows is a much sadder tale, not one of broken dreams but rather of fate’s cruelty….

Recently, while taking a much needed respite from the drudgery of The Job (i.e., the one that funds my furniture addiction), I succumbed to my habit which I had managed to avoid for some weeks – browsing Craigslist.  I entered the CL world, with the intention of journeying through the Washington DC listings in my routine order:  “Free”, “Antiques”, and “Furniture”.  However, shortly after initiating my scan through the “Free” category (and after skipping ads offering such questionable items as “Half Box of Frozen Dreamsicles”), I happened upon an ad that stopped me in my tracks:  the lister was GIVING AWAY a 19^th century French settee.  Yes, FREE.  The owner indicated he/she to be despondent over having to part with such a treasure, but nonetheless circumstances (which must have been dire) mandated that this glorious piece be left by the curb for the first taker.

The ad indicated the settee was awaiting rescue on a street in Alexandria, Virginia – only a few miles form my office!  I immediately sent an email to the lister asking if the piece was perchance still available.  Since the ad had been posted over an hour prior to my seeing it, I had no doubt that my inquiry was in vain.

After another hour passed without any response, I decided to throw caution to the wind:  I called friend Doogie (who works in my office building, one floor above) and told him that we needed to embark on a furniture rescue mission.  As this was not the first time Doogie had been called upon to accompany me on such an undertaking, he immediately agreed.  Within minutes, after Googling the street address stated in the CL ad, we were off in my Passat wagon like a furniture EMS team to save the settee.

Doogie, being more familiar with the layout of that particular niche of Alexandria, deftly maneuvered us to the identified street.  There, nestled among the closely parked cars, was the object of our search…and it was more alluring in person than in its CL photo!  Yes, dear readers, it incited an attack of Vintage Vertigo!  Trembling with the thrill of discovery, I pulled my car to the curb (shielding my find from others who may have embarked on the same search) and began removing everything from my car that may hinder the loading of the treasured settee.  (Such items included another rescued item of the French persuasion:  a 1970s vintage dining chair, saved from certain ruin on Sig-O’s Capital Hill street weeks earlier, intended as a project in my Furniture Repair and Refinishing class.  I had visions of strapping the chair – and Doogie – to the Passat’s luggage rack in order to transport the settee to its rightful home.)  Although Doogie the Dubious doubted my ability to get the substantial settee into the Passat’s rear compartment, I assured him, “IT. WILL. FIT.”

Recognizing that making good on my promise would require some assistance, I frantically searched for someone to engage in my task.  Low and behold, like a gift from the furniture gods, but a few houses down the street was a crew of landscapers!  I quickly approached one of the gentlemen, and without preamble offered him $5 to help me move the settee de’francais from the gutter into its awaiting chariot; having earlier seen the beauty in distress, he readily agreed.

Although he shared Doogie’s doubts, the landscaper heartily assisted us in maneuvering the settee through the Passat’s rear hatch.  But, oh the furniture gods, they are a’fickle!  Despite all our finagling, IT.DIDN’T.FIT.  Indeed, the now seemingly gargantuan structure of wood and velvet actually got stuck halfway in the car!  The trio of rescuers was finally able to dislodge the faded lady and I, spiraling down from my Vintage Vertigo crescendo, was forced to admit defeat.

Having no other resource to call upon (that is, no friend with a truck), I solemnly placed the settee back in its spot among the trash receptacles.  As Doogie and I drove away, I forlornly caught my last vision of the settee in the rearview mirror; cursing the inadequacies of the Passat, I once again proclaimed to the heavens the obvious:  “I NEED A VAN!” And to the lovely French settee,

Un amour qui hante mon coeur à jamais... un amour pour l'éternité et l'espoir de trouver la paix un jour... des mots qu'un amoureux parti ne verra pas...Adieu, mon amour.  Adieu.*

*(A love that forever haunts my heart...love for eternity and a hope to find peace some day….Farewell, my love.  Farewell.)

Furniture 911

Dumpster Diving.  Trash Digging.  Recycling.  Whatever you choose to call it, from my previous postings you already know I get a great thrill out of coming upon discarded treasures.  Personally, I like to consider it “rescuing” furniture and home décor objects from inevitable destruction.  The idea of some perfectly good home décor object meeting untimely end in some landfill is totally offensive to me.  And in this new “green” era, what could be more environmental and economical?

I’ve had some fabulous successes because of where I live.  In my neighborhood, which is a wonderfully preserved and well-regarded historic district in Arlington, Virginia, the first Saturday of every month is officially called “bulk trash pick-up”; unofficially, the residents refer to it as the Neighborhood Exchange.  For me and some like-minded neighbors, it is best described as Treasure Hunting Day.  On the Friday night before, you will see residents and outsiders alike trawling through the ‘hood in search of home décor gems that, for whatever reason, have been tossed aside.  Indeed, many residents place their discards carefully by the curb in anticipation of someone else making claim to them. 

Although I’ve lived in my ‘hood for over three years, these once-a-month Friday night expeditions are a new experience for me.  My first time out, just a few months ago, was so fortuitous as to have me hooked for life!  Having heard tales from a neighbor of all the bounty to be found on these treasure trips, I ventured out on foot late that Friday night, with the intention of walking just a block or two from my home to see if there was anything worth getting excited about.

Less than a block from my doorstep, I noticed a bulky pile of something on the curb.  As I trepidatiously quickened my pace to my target, I could see that two of the items appeared to be dressers.  Even as I got a closer look, I was sure that, since they had been unceremoniously tossed to the curb, they must be some destroyed particle board-constructed piece of garbage.  However, imagine my glee when, upon very careful inspection, I determined that these were actually very well made, perfectly intact and matching hardwood dressers!!  However, they also were quite bulky and heavy – much too substantial to move by myself, especially by foot.

Back in my home, I spent the next thirty minutes trying to convince myself that (a) there was no way that I could move these items, and (b) I have absolutely no place to store them (not to mention no immediate need that would justify the effort of claiming them!).  BUT WHEN HAS THAT EVER STOPPED ME?!?  I swear, it was as if I were trying to talk myself out of getting involved in a tragically doomed romance.  As I agonized over leaving those two glorious pieces to the inevitable – death by landfill – I was looking in my pseudo walk-in closet for something when it hit me:  I could used them for storage in my bedroom closet!! 

I raced down the stairs like a man on fire (or, more descriptively, like a crack whore after the next fix).  I quickly ran to the corner to see that the dressers were still there, calling to me; tossed everything out of the back of my VW Passat Wagon to make room for my haul, and sped over to the hulking mass at the corner, defying anyone to stand between me and my new found loot.

Keep in mind that I am still alone in this endeavor.  And let me tell you:  those dressers were NOT lightweight!  Unleashing some superhuman strength, I managed to get both dressers into the back of my compact wagon.  Of course, the hatch wouldn’t close, but I carefully drove back to my parking space, and lugged one of the pieces out of the car and into my front door.  There, I became all giddy and giggly (another Vintage Vertigo attack), thrilled at not only my good fortune, but also my ingenuity in capturing and delivering my prize!  The next day, I engaged Sig-O in assisting me to move both pieces to their new home, where they are very snuggly serving their new purpose – providing much needed space for my abundance of shorts, sweaters, and gym attire.  The pieces have a decidedly mid-century sensibility of form plus function, with an elegantly simple line.  They are a welcomed addition to my vintage collection!

Stay tuned for more tales of Furniture Rescue….After all, tomorrow is the first Saturday of the month!

Happy Days at Class & Trash

The Fifties are fabulous (both the decade and the age…I have to include ‘age’ since I’m on the slippery slope myself!).  A recent trip to Fave Source numero uno, Class and Trash, resulted in lots of retro and reminiscing:  not only did I come upon some fantastic vintage ‘50s pieces, but also reconnected with high school sweetheart Debbie (yes, believe it or not, I had an actual GF-of-the-romantic-kind at one point in my life….!).  And of course, fellow trash diggers and C&T owners Lisa and Kenny Waldrop were on-hand to entice me with their shop’s wares.

While Debbie and I caught up on each other’s lives (we hadn’t had a face-2-face since Sig-O and I attended Debbie and hubby Rusty’s post-wedding shindig at sister Lou’s delightfully quirky house in Ashland, seven years ago!), I dragged her through the labyrinthian mounds of marvels that always greet me at C&T.  Within minutes, I happened upon on a fun retro barkcloth fabric remnant that simply defines ‘fabulocity’!  This atomic boomerang pattern is so iconic, with colors of pink, turquoise, lime green, black, white and metallic silver on a charcoal gray background.  Imagine this funky fabric on a black mid-century double cushioned slatted bench….Now where might I find one of those?  HHhmmmm…..

Thanks in part to Kenny and Lisa’s assistant Tammy, C&T always has a wide selection of retro California pottery.  I’ve often admired the pastel colors and stylized patterns typical of vintage California dinner- and serving-ware, and on an earlier C&T excursion fell in love with two pieces from Tammy’s offerings.  The oblong serving platter is by Winfield Pottery in their Dragon Flower pattern.  The pink and brown design depicting a desert flower works incredibly well among my vintage hodgepodge!  The round divided relish dish is embossed on the bottom: Lane & Co. Van Nuys, Calif. USA with the number 3060.  From my internet research, I’ve discovered that Lane & Company is another of the prolific California pottery houses of the 1950s/60s.  There are many collectors of Lane pottery items, especially their cookie jars.  The gold, brown, and green designs of this relish dish were airbushed by hand.  Both items are in flawless condition, and are eagerly awaiting their debut in my next garden party (or, for the next time Richard and Sharona stop by for an impromptu happy hour!)

Debbie and I had so much fun trawling the treasures at C&T.  I even managed to convince Debbie and Lisa to pose for a photo among the (other) vintage items (oh, boy…I’m going to be slapped by one or both ladies for that catty comment!  I’ll try to redeem myself by dubbing them “the Class among the Trash”. )  As always, my trip to C&T was sufficiently stimulating as to invoke another Vintage Vertigo attack.  My retro acquisitions were just the right antidote!

Beach Chairs

Don’t you just love finding treasures in the most unexpected places?  Last weekend, Sharona, Richard and I spent a fun-filled weekend in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware .  After a Friday night of debauchery, complete with karaoke and dancing, we ventured out on a sun-drenched morning into town.  For those of you unfamiliar with Rehoboth, it is a lovely ocean resort with a mix of New England and Victorian charm.  The main street is Rehoboth Avenue, lined with shops and restaurants.  The shopping experience ranges from T-shirt and surf shops to chic and funky boutiques.

After battling for parking (Richard, bless his heart, agreed to be the chauffeur for the weekend, making it more pleasant for all of us), we immediately happened upon the tiny consignment store Pass It On.  Sig-O and I had noticed this store before, but since it appeared from its window displays to carry only women’s fashions we always bypassed it.  However, since Richard and I were on a mission to ensure Sharona spent all her Fall ’09 clothing budget by the end of the weekend, this time I insisted we stop by to have a look-see.

We were all immediately charmed by the tiny shop; it’s racks and shelves were filled with an eclectic mix of ladies’ fashions, and included many desirable labels.  Richard I quickly overwhelmed Sharona by yanking out armfuls of must-haves (‘fashion by inundation’ was our modus operandi for the weekend!).  In the midst of the mayhem, I happened to gaze upon a funky little vintage armchair in the corner: ‘30s/’40s vintage with chunky carved feet, but upholstered in early ‘70s yellow and gold floral chenille (CHENILLE!  Must alert Lady D! [see previous posting, “The Princess and the Flea ”]), in fabulous condition.  Upon further inspection, it appeared that the chair was part of the store’s furnishings, placed there for weary customers and not actually for sale.  Seldom deterred once I’ve set my sights on a potential find, I decided to take a chance and asked the salesperson behind the counter if the chair might possibly be purchased.  At the same time, I noticed one of the store’s display tables – a long, low bench with stylized oriental lines, with a rather distressed royal blue lacquered finish.  Perhaps another find?!?

The lovely sales girl offered to contact the shop’s owner to see if she would be willing to sell both items.  After hearing the owner’s offer (which, by the way, was a good starting point for negotiation), I chose to take a few moments to consider the purchase (I’m sure you’ll be shocked when I say I am SO prone to impulsive home décor purchases!), and wandered to the back of the store to locate Sharona and Richard.

Sharona had managed to find the “Everything $10” clearance room.  While she was considering a lovely lace camisole, I zoomed in on yet another chair; while this one had the same ‘70s chenille upholstery, the piece was decidedly more early-‘50s vintage, with lightly stained exposed wood (birch?) sleek arms and legs.  While Sharona was left to fend for herself amongst l’items de clearance’, I rushed back to the salesgirl and asked her to contact the owner to see if she would instead sell me the two chairs (for a price lower than her original chair-and-table offer).  SUCCESS!  Not only did the owner agree to my suggestion, she offered to throw in the oriental table for free!! 

Yes, dear readers, I fell into that giddy state that I hereby dub “Vintage Vertigo”.   You know the symptoms:  the adrenaline rush, accompanied by visions of refinishing/refurbishing/repurposing that occur when you happen upon a particularly exquisite and desirable piece of vintage décor….The euphoria experienced as you examine your newly found treasure, and immediately begin calculating the best price for which you can acquire the piece.  Vintage Vertigo is often accompanied by glassy eyes and drooling, but NEVER EVER includes thoughts of, “But where will I put it?” or “But what will I do with it?”.

After proclaiming the two chairs and the table ‘sold’, Richard readily agreed to make the multiple trips required to haul the pieces back to Sig-O’s Rehoboth house.  (Such a gracious act earned him the title, “Patron Saint of Vintage Décor Addicts”.  We’re minting little medals.)  Once all three pieces were at Sig-Os place, I decided that the chairs worked very nicely in two of the upstairs bedrooms (the table, originally intended to accompany us back to Arlington, unfortunately had to stay behind in the beach house garage; Sharona just had too many purchases, and we couldn’t fit everything into Richard’s SUV.  Sharona will try to tell you it was due to all my luggage, but don’t listen to her!)  I called Sig-O to ensure I had his permission to store the pieces at his beach house, at least temporarily, and even took pictures to show him how well they worked in their new quarters.  Believe it or not, he thinks they blend well with the house’s décor, and agrees that these were indeed a worthwhile purchase.  (I don’t think he realizes the chairs’ chenille upholstery is a bit ‘mod’….I was careful not to zoom-in on the fabric’s details!).

Oh yeah…Sharona ended up with an armful of Pass It On clothing, including a stunning Ann Klein lingerie-inspired cocktail dress and a faux fur stole….But whatever; must EVERYTHING always be about her?!?  ;-o

The Princess and The Flea

She came.  She saw.  She bought CHENILLE!

Friend Diana took my well-intentioned advice from my earlier Furniture Addict posting and journeyed out to the DC Big Flea last weekend….Ok, I can’t really take credit (responsibility?) for Lady D’s insatiable appetite for all things décor (vintage or otherwise!  This is why we get along so famously!).  After all, it was she who introduced me to the wild wonderful world of DCBF, so it is I who has her to thank/blame.

The lovely Lady D excitedly contacted me yesterday to tell me about her DCBF find of the quarter:  a vintage citrus green chenille bedspread that just screams FABULOCITY!.  The thrill of her purchase is best expressed in her own words:  

“It is so hideous it was a must have!   The challenge is can she make it a thing of beauty in the right room???  Stay tuned as she travels the world putting together a room to show off The Green Beast.  Can she do it justice?  This $50 find will costs thousands in the end. ”

(Obviously The Green Beast has had a dramatic effect on Lady D, since she’s not typically inclined to speak of herself in the third person.  But, we all know how profound an impact the perfect vintage piece can have on one’s life, do we not?!?)

I have advised Lady D that a piece of such rare beauty can only be complemented by tangerine sheets and purple patterned pillows (Polka dots?  Plaids?  Oh, why oh WHY must one choose?!?)  Certainly one of my dear readers can assist in locating just the perfect items to complete her boudoir ensemble.  Please, please reach deep into your vast collective pool of creativity (and sources) and help this lady locate goods that befit the beauty of The Beast.  Submit your comments, darlings!

In the meantime, Lady D remains in the throws of her throw….She writes, “It could morph into a canopy for the daybed or, perhaps, a wall hanging, or a throw over a big chair.  I feel this is just the beginning of my walk in the chenille world.  I see chenille clothes, drapes, lampshades,  an entire room of chenille.  A museum of sorts.  A homage.  I paid $50 to ride the chenille train.”  A small price to pay to embark on such a glorious trip!