My first and favorite purchase was a medicine cabinet for the bathroom. No, not just "a" medicine cabinet - THE medicine cabinet. It's the absolute perfect medicine cabinet for our bathroom, and I love it dearly, so much that (watch out Darwin) I may one day run away with it to Cancun.
It has adorable shabby chic chippy off-white paint. Underneath the paint, the cabinet is mahogany! So I may strip it one day, but for now I like the chippy lead-o-rama paint. (Have I mentioned I'm already planning an early death due to lead poisoning?)
It has two doors with beveled mirrors on the outside and racks on the inside, plus shelves in the cabinet, and it has a keyhole but of course no key. This thing is HEAVY!
Also, the antique store lady pointed out a paper label on the back that says (I think) R.J. Horner, which was supposed to impress me and make me feel guilty about getting a bargain on the cabinet. I'm not impressed and don't feel guilty. Names on antiques mean nothing to me because I don't know what I'm doing. I just say, "ooh pretty" and I must have it.
Which does nothing to explain my purchase of this:
It's a turn-of-the-century Hitchcock chair, which I'm told should also impress me. I paused and touched the chair on my way into an antique shop, and the proprietor immediately began regaling me with all the wonders of the chair and saying the word Hitchcock and lot, and telling me its never too soon to start building a collection of "good" antiques.
My translation: buying this chair is the equivalent of buying a designer purse, just so people will know you can afford to pay for it.
Somehow in all this, I became convinced (with the help of my trusted antique dealer friend down the street) that the $85 for the chair was a bargain. So I bought it, maybe because I hadn't found much else of interest at the sale and I wanted to buy some more stuff, darnit!
Maybe it is a bargain. I don't know. But I do like the chair, and it does look nice in our house. I just had to endure the not-another-chair looks from Darwin when I brought it home. Hey, at least it wasn't another bed, right?
So then we went back on Saturday morning in hopes of scoring some baked goods from the Mennonite ladies. They weren't there (or were sold out already), so we bought yummy cookies from a church group instead.
On our way back to the truck, I noticed a chair (yes another chair) that I hadn't paid much attention to on Thursday. It looked like a very low-to-the-ground rocker.
We strolled over and discovered that it was an 1890s folding camp rocker with a carpet seat. The seller told us the Victorians liked to go all out with silverware, china, etc., when they camp (could be true, I don't know), and they'd take these cute little rockers to relax in.
Well, one of my favorite things to collect is antique stuff that can still be used the way it was intended (like the 1920s toaster I got last year, which Darwin now uses).
Darwin liked the chair, too, but wasn't sure. Meanwhile, I spotted a 1940s handpainted cookie jar and fell in love. With the black, yellow, green and pink on this jar, it couldn't match our kitchen any better if it was covered with clutter.
That decided it. Like an idiot, I offered $100 for the chair ($58) and jar ($45) without doing the math properly first. The seller accepted, saving me a whopping $3. I'm an idiot. Oh well.
Anyway, I'm feeling no buyer's remorse about any of my purchases, with the possible exception of two pots of zinnias, which are presently dying on my front porch. If they can be rescued, I'll post a pic once they are planted in the front pots.