Wednesday, May 26, 2010


Burning questions. Sizzling answers. Welcome to IntoVintagepedia.

On moving, unpacking and getting organized...

ness said...

Q: I'm so glad you are back! We get a tour of the new house, right? 

I know these look like framed prints but I'm currently calling them 'bathroom curtains'.

A: Thanks Ness! Recently I brought home a little $5 table from a yard sale which I plan to put on one side of the guest bed once I tighten up the table legs and shelf, then primer and paint it. While I was thinking about the process for this little table, the bigger picture popped into my head and I had to wonder, "Will I be forever moving furniture around, painting, sewing and fixing? Will the place I live always be a work in progress?"

Yes. Yes it will.

I can't imagine that the day will come when I'll look around and think to myself, "Whew. That's all done." So to answer your question Ness, yes I will, pending the completion of some (any!) projects around here. 


Q: Organization is a wonderful thing. Have you read "Homer and Langley"? It's a novel based on the real-life story of two hoarding brothers, and indeed, heavy equipment did need to be brought in to find one of ... oh, I don't want to spoil the ending. But you can guess.

A:  No, I haven't read that but you had me at 'heavy equipment.' 


Teresa said...  

(This is a question two-fer)

Q:  Are those iris I see out your window? Oops, sorry. I know this is an inside post, not an outside post. Can't help it

  A: Teresa is mighty observant because yes, those tiny, blurry, lavender blobs are indeed iris. And not to worry, I do that all the time. Someone might be blogging about their favorite cheeses and all I see is the vintage tablecloth the cheese is sitting on. 

Q: I have to say I'm quite impressed at your organizing speed. Are you totally settled? It's been ten years for me and I'm barely settled.

 A:  Totally settled? Did not know that was an option. As in every last box is unpacked? No.

No. No. No. 

At this point, I've discovered how unopened boxes make great end tables or nightstands or just about anything else you can think of. If you're expecting company, simply toss a vintage tablecloth over it and you're good to go.


Regarding that slipcover I keep talking about...

Q:  Do you have a Home Fabrics near you? If so, you should go check it out. Of course, you might already know about this fantastic place. "My new love" fabric for my kitchen (which I haven't done anything with but take a photo) was $3 a yard there! Yes that is not a typo -- $3 a yard for upholstery fabric.

A:  Sadly, I do not have a Home Fabrics near me. I suspect this is the universe's way of keeping me out of trouble knowing that if I had access to $3-a-yard upholstery fabric, I would be drawing up plans and buying fabric to slipcover every-dang-thing in the house. And your photo of your fabric puts you miles ahead of me as I don't even have any slipcover fabric to photograph at this point. Except for these swatches. Which don't count.

All I have so far is a lot of slipcover talk. And construction plans for an outbuilding.

barbara said...

Q: I think the worst is over, now that the math is done. Are you sure you're planning to make a slipcover and not something more complicated? Possibly constructing an outbuilding or something?

A:  It's true. I've somehow managed to turn a simple slipcover into the equivalent of a small barn-raising.  

  Looking forward to the holiday weekend and maybe even a little sunshine. 

Thursday, May 20, 2010

No Before Followed By No After

This is the Before & After story where I don't want to show you the 'before' (not good) and can't show you the 'after' (there isn't one). Yet.

In the old place, the Sad-&-Listless-Sofa-of-Much-Wear-&-Tear sat against a wall and was flanked by end tables and ottomans and fireplaces and other distractions, buried under pillows and decorative throws and the occasional visiting Greyhound.

Sadly, not any longer. Now it's the center of the universe where its many flaws and scars can be viewed from any and every angle, each spot and nubbin highlighted, shouting out "Look at me!"


So I've finally been forced to remove my blinders and Make. That. Slipcover. Or at least begin the process which involves so much math my eyes were watering before I even had my pencil sharpened. But I can't buy the fabric without doing the math so Phase 1 is now complete.

Fabric store, here I come.

Meanwhile, I've been self-medicating with some incoming fabrics like this.

And this. 

This is my all-time favorite vintage barkcloth print. I have this same print in another color and I photographed it to use as my screensaver.

And a teeny, tiny photo of it appears on my bank checks. Because I love it so much.

Here's a sneak peek of some Doily Factory output. The one good thing about moving is it gets me reacquainted with my vintage fabric stash so I've been busy making lavender sachets from old, embroidered bits and pieces.

Hope to have my etsy shop, VintageHome, up & running soon.

Sunday, May 16, 2010

beginning again

At last, the new & improved Doily Factory is starting to feel like home. It's bigger than it's ever been (it could not possibly have gotten any smaller) and it seems so decadent and luxurious to have space to spread out in. I feel like I should be creative on some sort of uber-spectacular level now. 

At the very least, I've greatly reduced the possibility of making an appearance on the evening news, live footage featuring a frightening piece of heavy equipment carefully extracting me from a toppled tower of fabric.

I've wrestled this beast back into order.

I could never cut it at The Gap. No natural folding skills.

Turns out dressers make great storage for odds & ends of fabric so everything is neatly put away. For now.

Knick-knacks are out and pin cups are in service as I get back to work.

I'm in a red, white & blue mode at the moment. 

Cleared out some of the old inspiration to make room for new.

Hope you're enjoying a wonderful weekend.

Thursday, May 6, 2010

the no frills post

Because I haven't located my camera yet. And as soon as I find my 'detailed box content' list, I'm sure that whole missing camera thing will work itself out.

I've received several emails and phone calls from concerned citizens asking "How's that move going?" which, twelve days after moving day, I translate to "Exactly how long does it take you to move your stuff 4.7 miles?"

Much longer than the 'dreamworld of moving' I envisioned apparently. A dreamworld that definitely did not include moving dirty dishes. But I am thrilled (SO VERY thrilled) to announce the move is over (with only one injury, a broken-ish toe I can only blame on some late night stumbling around in too-close proximity to the business end of a suitcase wheel, forcing me to wear the same loose-fitting, sensible shoes day after day which are the perfect accessory for the unflattering, hobbled gait I've adopted) and unpacking is in full swing after a domino effect of sheetrock, paint and powerwashing. Much of the boxed-up doily factory has been sitting in a holding pattern in the living room, patiently waiting for its new space to be fine-tuned. 

I will return to our regularly scheduled blogging posthaste. I've missed our little talks.