A story to tell
One of the reasons I'm passionate about finding unique pieces is that they all have a story to tell.
Growing up on a kibbutz, everyone had the same stuff; it was impossible to own or wear anything truly unique. The underlying ideology was that, in the name of socialism and equality, everyone should be raised the same way, and have the same stuff. I deeply resented this as a child because in a way, it didn’t allow one’s individual spirit to shine through. I resent it as an adult, too, and so today I'm consciously making an effort to stay true to myself and preserve my individuality — in the way I think, in what I wear, and in my design style.
I buy rare and beautiful pieces that are from a different era, and are hard to find.
I love the idea that the things I own are unique, and have a story behind them — a story that in some cases began long before I was born. They've "seen things," they were part of other people's lives and loves. To me, each story is profoundly intriguing and exciting.
One of the mirrors I have in my collection was sold to me by an older man who said it had been hanging in the bedroom he shared with his wife for 40 years. When I think about what it must have been a “witness” to. . . Hanging in a strategic room in their home and observing their life. . . As a young couple, starting a family, babies being nursed, raised, loved. . . The life they shared of tears and joy. A little piece of the most meaningful years of a family’s life.
The thought that this mirror was part of someone's life journey touched me.
And so, even if I don't know the history of a certain object, I imagine one in my head. Because I can, and because even if I don’t know the real story, there’s still one there, somewhere, and that adds a special dimension to the object itself.
When you buy an item that is 50, 60, 70+ years old, you can’t help but notice that it was made differently than they are today. It’s usually made by hand, with great attention to detail, using fine materials. You sense the craftsmanship that went into it, and know you’re not likely to see it in too many other places.
But in this era, many of the things we buy were made in factories and on assembly lines, and can be found in many homes. There's nothing wrong with that; I do it, too. But if, by chance, I come by something special, I enjoy creating a mix of eclecticism, designing spaces with objects that carry a certain aesthetic, and that are different and unique.
I offer these carefully selected vintage/antique pieces a second life in a brand new context, making it possible for them to be a part of other lives lived.
Together, we beat the system. Everybody wins. By not buying something new, we’re being green and respecting the environment. We also maintain your originality with an esthetic no one else has.
And sometimes, if you’re really in the right headspace, you can imagine the person who once sat on that 1920s rocking chair, opened that art deco cupboard door, turned on that mid-century light fixture all those years ago. . . Long before you and I started creating our own little story.
