the lives and junk of the Blackbird girls...
Showing posts with label mid-century. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mid-century. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 4, 2015
Update: Urban Vintage
The Blackbird girls are very excited as we prepare for the Urban Vintage show this weekend! Remember all of that great stuff that was packed to the roof of the car when we got back from our road trip? You can meet our junk in person in just a few days!
Thursday, July 30, 2015
Junk Love: The Hutch
Have you ever fallen in love? Instant, gut-searing, I-have-to-have-you-or-I'll-die love? We have, on many occasions, fallen victim to this condition. Usually, it involves vintage cocktail items or pinups. But once upon a time...it was a gigantic piece of furniture.
We were in the Wilmington, NC area for vacation. The week had been spent mostly in our pajamas in a beach house, watching movies and putting together puzzles. It was a time of relaxation, where our mental reset buttons would be gently pushed. We might venture into town for a nice meal or a stroll around the local antique shops (otherwise we would dry up and die). One night, we drove to the beach to get our toes wet under a wide expanse of Carolina stars. The next day, we journeyed into the big city to have lunch with someone we know there. And afterwards, as we sat in the car waiting for the AC to catch up, one of us said, "I wonder if there's a thrift store on the way back to the house?"
Indeed, there was. And within ten seconds of walking through the door, I was shoving people aside as I rushed to greet my future: a mid-century hutch by Young Manufacturing Co. Glass panels on the sides, glass shelves, and it lights up. At $225, it was pricey for a thrift store find, but a bargain for such a large piece. As I spotted another customer strolling toward it with a contemplative gleam, I considered licking the doors to stake my claim. Luckily, there are TWO Blackbird girls--one to find a sales associate, and one to body-check anybody stupid enough to tread on our turf.
Lusty excitement aside, we are also practical gals, so my first action was to get the tape measure from the car. The hutch is two pieces, incredibly heavy, and too big for both parts to fit in the car simultaneously. But, considered individually, each piece would fit. We were an hour from the beach house, but decided it was worth it to make two trips. I gleefully paid for the hutch. And then Carl happened.
Carl is the guy in charge of moving things. And Carl is the sort of fellow who will laugh in a woman's face and tell her how stupid she is. I learned this the hard way.
I want to take the top half first I told him. It will slide in at an angle, and I have blankets to cushion (because you have to travel with blankets for this exact purpose). He shook his head and laughed and condescendingly informed me that the piece was too big. The top is 48 inches I said. I have 52 inches of clearance in the car. Carl snorted and asked where from my body I happened to pull those numbers. I held up my tape measure, and he snatched it from my hand. I watched through the window as Carl measured my hutch top, watched him shake his head when he realized that it was, indeed, 48 inches high. And then he came outside and tossed the tape measure at me. He spat on the asphalt in front of my toes, and told me that he didn't care what size it was. Nobody was putting that piece in my car. Then he instructed all of his staff not to help us. It was too heavy for two Blackbird girls to handle, and so we were stuck.
From here we entered a Dark Time, during which we called everyone we knew, who called people, who called people, and eventually, we were able to get someone with a truck to come help us. Half of the hutch went in the truck, and the other half went into my car. Sounds like a sweet ending to the story, right? I may have neglected to mention the fact that I didn't technically have room for this piece of furniture at home. Indeed, there was the not-so-small matter of a piano in the exact spot where the hutch would have to live.
The bottom half of the piece, which I affectionately referred to as Hutch Butt, lived in my SUV for over two months. If I got groceries, I would slide open the doors and lower bags into the Hutch Butt. If I slammed on the brakes, it would nudge the back of my seat like a friendly high-five. While Hutch Butt camped in my car, and Hutch Top lived in somebody's garage, I tried to get rid of the piano. Not surprisingly, those tend to be really hard to re-release into the wild. Eventually, I figured out a way to fit the hutch into my house WITHOUT getting rid of the piano--or anything else!
All it took was twelve hours of sweaty labor, moving four other pieces of furniture and dozens of associated tchotchkes and pieces of wall art, but finally, there was a space for Hutch Butt. The delivery of Hutch Top was a joyous event, and there was rejoicing in the streets (except not really, because there is no air conditioning out there). Finally, finally, finally--the hutch was in my house, ready to be filled with pottery and other assorted items. The moral of this story? Love is hard work, but a girl would do almost anything for decent storage.
We were in the Wilmington, NC area for vacation. The week had been spent mostly in our pajamas in a beach house, watching movies and putting together puzzles. It was a time of relaxation, where our mental reset buttons would be gently pushed. We might venture into town for a nice meal or a stroll around the local antique shops (otherwise we would dry up and die). One night, we drove to the beach to get our toes wet under a wide expanse of Carolina stars. The next day, we journeyed into the big city to have lunch with someone we know there. And afterwards, as we sat in the car waiting for the AC to catch up, one of us said, "I wonder if there's a thrift store on the way back to the house?"
Indeed, there was. And within ten seconds of walking through the door, I was shoving people aside as I rushed to greet my future: a mid-century hutch by Young Manufacturing Co. Glass panels on the sides, glass shelves, and it lights up. At $225, it was pricey for a thrift store find, but a bargain for such a large piece. As I spotted another customer strolling toward it with a contemplative gleam, I considered licking the doors to stake my claim. Luckily, there are TWO Blackbird girls--one to find a sales associate, and one to body-check anybody stupid enough to tread on our turf.
 |
| Hutch in its native habitat |
Carl is the guy in charge of moving things. And Carl is the sort of fellow who will laugh in a woman's face and tell her how stupid she is. I learned this the hard way.
I want to take the top half first I told him. It will slide in at an angle, and I have blankets to cushion (because you have to travel with blankets for this exact purpose). He shook his head and laughed and condescendingly informed me that the piece was too big. The top is 48 inches I said. I have 52 inches of clearance in the car. Carl snorted and asked where from my body I happened to pull those numbers. I held up my tape measure, and he snatched it from my hand. I watched through the window as Carl measured my hutch top, watched him shake his head when he realized that it was, indeed, 48 inches high. And then he came outside and tossed the tape measure at me. He spat on the asphalt in front of my toes, and told me that he didn't care what size it was. Nobody was putting that piece in my car. Then he instructed all of his staff not to help us. It was too heavy for two Blackbird girls to handle, and so we were stuck.
From here we entered a Dark Time, during which we called everyone we knew, who called people, who called people, and eventually, we were able to get someone with a truck to come help us. Half of the hutch went in the truck, and the other half went into my car. Sounds like a sweet ending to the story, right? I may have neglected to mention the fact that I didn't technically have room for this piece of furniture at home. Indeed, there was the not-so-small matter of a piano in the exact spot where the hutch would have to live.
The bottom half of the piece, which I affectionately referred to as Hutch Butt, lived in my SUV for over two months. If I got groceries, I would slide open the doors and lower bags into the Hutch Butt. If I slammed on the brakes, it would nudge the back of my seat like a friendly high-five. While Hutch Butt camped in my car, and Hutch Top lived in somebody's garage, I tried to get rid of the piano. Not surprisingly, those tend to be really hard to re-release into the wild. Eventually, I figured out a way to fit the hutch into my house WITHOUT getting rid of the piano--or anything else!
 |
| Hutch Butt grows accustomed to its new habitat |
 |
| Hutch Butt and Hutch Top compare stories from their time apart |
Wednesday, June 10, 2015
Junk Love: Uhhh...Have We Met?
So, this week we were straightening up the house for visitors--not uncommon, right? But then reality came knocking at the door, and we realized just how massive the junk addiction has become. If you do a little soul-searching, you would have to admit that at least once in your life you have opened a drawer, noticed an object, and thought Where did that come from?
Imagine this happening over and over again for an entire afternoon.
It started with a flat, rectangular object wrapped in newspaper. I broke the tape with my fingernail and allowed the paper to fall away, and in my hands was a vintage 1940s pinup in a beautiful frame. a year ago, in an antique shop in Raleigh. It was love at first sight, and when I brought it home, I couldn't find the hammer to hang it. So I put it in a safe place, and then I forgot about it entirely. [*Cue music...Reunited, and it feels so good....]
After a moment of reflection, I remembered buying it--last summer, at a shop in Raleigh.
With my pinup placed in her proper home, I continued to clean. The next thing I found, also wrapped in newspaper, was a vintage Georges Briard tidbit dish. I collect vintage Briard, and I had a vague memory of picking this one up in a shop last summer. Again, I wanted to hang it with a wire plate hanger, but the hammer was missing, so....
I put the dish in the kitchen and resumed my original task. My house is the Land of Dust Bunnies, so it's a constant battle to keep those fluffy boogers in check. And since I have so much stuff in my house, there are things that don't get moved very often, and I imagine that little Utopian colonies of dust bunnies are living in harmony behind stacked suitcases or underneath the piano. I decided to sweep the No Man's Land beneath a corner display, and in addition to the softness of dust bunnies, my fingers encountered stiff paper. It was a brown shopping bag, and in it were four things--you guessed it: wrapped in newspaper. And this is where I lost my mind just a little bit.
Two mid-century cast iron and chrome candlesticks, one tall and one short. One set of pristine turquoise and white printed linen napkins. A white 1940s pottery planter. And I would swear that I have never seen any of it before in my life. The smudged receipt in the bottom of the bag was no help--a yellow carbon copy that showed only one-word descriptions of the items. No city or state or shop name. My only other clue was a small quantity of mail stuffed between the candlesticks, dated July of 2013.
Well, I remember going to Ohio in July two years ago. It was a big Blackbird trip, during which the car was packed to the headliner. But is that where these things came from? I definitely felt love for these items that tumbled out of newspaper onto my white bedspread. But I have no memory whatsoever of buying them. And neither does the other Blackbird girl.
It was a moment that held the joy of Christmas morning, with a dash of embarrassment. (Are we officially hoarders now????) But we finally brushed it off, found places for the items, and continued with our cleaning spree. We don't have a problem here, officer.
Until two hours later, when I found not one, but four bowling balls stashed in the living room. We stood over them with our hands on our hips, blinking in confusion. How did we end up with four giant balls? We don't even bowl. And how did two of them come to live in the wicker basket beneath our knitting yarn? How did one end up under a chair, behind a box of records? And where in the world did the one behind the sofa come from?
We looked at one another and shrugged. Bowling balls are cool. And if they look like they're supposed to be a part of the scenery, then no one will be the wiser. So we dusted them off and tucked them in, and now they're here to stay. And when one of our guests exclaimed, "That is so neat! I'd never think to collect old bowling balls," we just smiled and poured the lemonade.
The moral of this story is: If you clean your house, you get presents!
Imagine this happening over and over again for an entire afternoon.
It started with a flat, rectangular object wrapped in newspaper. I broke the tape with my fingernail and allowed the paper to fall away, and in my hands was a vintage 1940s pinup in a beautiful frame. a year ago, in an antique shop in Raleigh. It was love at first sight, and when I brought it home, I couldn't find the hammer to hang it. So I put it in a safe place, and then I forgot about it entirely. [*Cue music...Reunited, and it feels so good....]After a moment of reflection, I remembered buying it--last summer, at a shop in Raleigh.
With my pinup placed in her proper home, I continued to clean. The next thing I found, also wrapped in newspaper, was a vintage Georges Briard tidbit dish. I collect vintage Briard, and I had a vague memory of picking this one up in a shop last summer. Again, I wanted to hang it with a wire plate hanger, but the hammer was missing, so....
I put the dish in the kitchen and resumed my original task. My house is the Land of Dust Bunnies, so it's a constant battle to keep those fluffy boogers in check. And since I have so much stuff in my house, there are things that don't get moved very often, and I imagine that little Utopian colonies of dust bunnies are living in harmony behind stacked suitcases or underneath the piano. I decided to sweep the No Man's Land beneath a corner display, and in addition to the softness of dust bunnies, my fingers encountered stiff paper. It was a brown shopping bag, and in it were four things--you guessed it: wrapped in newspaper. And this is where I lost my mind just a little bit.
Two mid-century cast iron and chrome candlesticks, one tall and one short. One set of pristine turquoise and white printed linen napkins. A white 1940s pottery planter. And I would swear that I have never seen any of it before in my life. The smudged receipt in the bottom of the bag was no help--a yellow carbon copy that showed only one-word descriptions of the items. No city or state or shop name. My only other clue was a small quantity of mail stuffed between the candlesticks, dated July of 2013.
Well, I remember going to Ohio in July two years ago. It was a big Blackbird trip, during which the car was packed to the headliner. But is that where these things came from? I definitely felt love for these items that tumbled out of newspaper onto my white bedspread. But I have no memory whatsoever of buying them. And neither does the other Blackbird girl.
Until two hours later, when I found not one, but four bowling balls stashed in the living room. We stood over them with our hands on our hips, blinking in confusion. How did we end up with four giant balls? We don't even bowl. And how did two of them come to live in the wicker basket beneath our knitting yarn? How did one end up under a chair, behind a box of records? And where in the world did the one behind the sofa come from?
We looked at one another and shrugged. Bowling balls are cool. And if they look like they're supposed to be a part of the scenery, then no one will be the wiser. So we dusted them off and tucked them in, and now they're here to stay. And when one of our guests exclaimed, "That is so neat! I'd never think to collect old bowling balls," we just smiled and poured the lemonade.
The moral of this story is: If you clean your house, you get presents!
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
Junk Love: Time Machine Tuesday
You might have noticed by now that I have a thing for time machines, so today when I was sitting on my couch, this thought process actually happened:
(Inner monologue) I really love that chair. It makes me feel like I live in the 1950s.
But then that other chair makes me feel like I live in the 40s. It's like my living room has its own time machine. Oh, my gosh. I wish my living room was a time machine, and then I could change it to any decade I wanted....
And so began the great Google search of living rooms by decade. Since it is currently 2014, I decided to visit 1934, 1944, and so on (but I stopped in the seventies, because we all know 1984 did nothing good for living room decor). Now, let me find that flux capacitor. I know it's around here somewhere....
In 1934, my room might have looked like this:
1944:
1954:
1964:
1974:
(Inner monologue) I really love that chair. It makes me feel like I live in the 1950s.
But then that other chair makes me feel like I live in the 40s. It's like my living room has its own time machine. Oh, my gosh. I wish my living room was a time machine, and then I could change it to any decade I wanted....
And so began the great Google search of living rooms by decade. Since it is currently 2014, I decided to visit 1934, 1944, and so on (but I stopped in the seventies, because we all know 1984 did nothing good for living room decor). Now, let me find that flux capacitor. I know it's around here somewhere....
In 1934, my room might have looked like this:
1944:
1954:
1964:
1974:
Wednesday, January 29, 2014
Junk Love: It's a Zoo Out There
We love animals, and in our humble opinion, nothing ranks higher in the animal kingdom than the cute, kitschy, mid-century critter. While browsing on Etsy today, I came across this magnificent ram coffee table:
And it made me so happy, I had to troll the site for other animals to love. It was like going to the zoo while sitting on the couch in my pajamas. Add in some Chinese food and a fresh blanket of snow on my yard, and this has made for a lovely evening, indeed.
And here is our friend, the fat little horse from the Stig Lindberg post!
 |
| Mid-century Ram Coffee Table; On Etsy |
And it made me so happy, I had to troll the site for other animals to love. It was like going to the zoo while sitting on the couch in my pajamas. Add in some Chinese food and a fresh blanket of snow on my yard, and this has made for a lovely evening, indeed.
 |
| Walter Bosse stacking hedgehog ashtrays; On Etsy |
 |
| White Mid-Century ceramic elephants; On Etsy |
 |
| Karl Aubock style teak fish bottle opener; On Etsy |
 |
| Finland Arabia bull pitcher by Kaj Franck; On Etsy |
 |
| Kay Bojesen Wooden Hippo; On Etsy |
 |
| Abraham Palatnik lucite owl; On Etsy |
 |
| Strawberry Hill pottery beaver; On Etsy |
Friday, June 28, 2013
The Skinny: Stig Lindberg
 |
| Stig Lindberg |
We were introduced to Stig when we bought a couple of cute fish dishes. We had no idea who the maker was. We just knew that we liked them. Apparently, someone else does, too, because they sold less than two hours after we listed them.
 |
| Sold! |
It was a bittersweet moment, because we love sending junk to good homes, but our romance with the fish was far too short. So, we decided to live vicariously by learning about the designer and his other fabulous pieces.
In addition to housewares, Stig collaborated with Astrid Sampe on a textile collection. Several of these fabrics have been reissued, and are available in upholstery weight for furniture.
 |
| Lustgarden (Garden of Eden) fabric, flickr.com |
 |
| Pottery fabric, Here |
He designed a television for the Luma company. It. Is. Cool.
And, here is our wish list:
 |
| Stig Lindberg enamel and wood table, deconet.com |
 |
| Stig Lindberg "Medusa", deconet.com |
 |
| Stig Lindberg bull tile; deconet.com |
 |
| Stig Lindberg plate, Here |
 |
| Stig Lindberg fat horse!, Here |
 |
| Stig Lindberg Scottie dog, Etsy |
 |
| Stig Lindberg vase |
 |
| Stig Lindberg onion vase, Here |
*Information obtained from http://www.scandinaviandesign.com/nationalmuseum/0605/
Monday, May 6, 2013
Junk Love Monday: Geisha Love
 |
| Bridge tally, from puffadonna |
We don't encounter geishas very often in our travels (ha!), but I thought I'd do some fantasy shopping online to see what sort of lovely ladies are available. (*Note: this does not involve "fantasy" shopping for actual ladies. This isn't that kind of blog....)
 |
| From puffadonna |
We like cute ones.
 |
| From RetroLuxeHome |
 |
| From tickytackyvintage |
 |
| From HidalgoVintage |
 |
| From thetoadhouse |
 |
| Maxi dress!; From thegetupvintage |
We like classic girls.
 |
| From 27thAVE |
 |
| From overthetopoverstock |
 |
| From rdeanlee |
 |
| From BreezyNotions |
And, of course, we've gotta get our hands on some Vera geishas.
 |
| From CollectibleKat |
 |
| From PopLunch |
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)