Probably those of you who have been reading for years are a little worried about me. I mean, I used to write about trendy mctrendster things — things irreverent young hipsters marched toward like lemmings off a cliff. Also I was in a very teak state of mind — if it was mid mod, I bought it without question. I’m not sure what’s happening to me, but I think it’s called growing up. I’m working on expanding my repertoire and developing my own style, rather than glomming onto random shiny trinkets and hopefully assembling them into something passable (not that I won’t continue to indulge in that heady pastime, albeit ccasionally).
But I think maybe the world is a little different, too. With the downturn came a yearning for better days, and with that for well made objects that are crafted to last for generations — or at least beyond the next overhyped, overpriced trend cycle. A bit of antiquarian nostalgia goes a long way though, so I also appreciate bold choices with color, art, and form that balance out all that stuffy stuff. Plus my twinsie pals brass and chrome never hurt anyone, now did they?
All I’m trying to say is: don’t worry (too much) about me. I’m not going crazy cat lady on you. I won’t hang fiberglass hotel pleated curtains and declare them “fantabulous!”. I’m not planning to dedicate every nook and cranny to my burgeoning Capodimonte collection. And although my home is beginning to look like I’m opening a Persian rug store, I promise to mix it up with some youthful, arty choices. Because I’m not actually old. yet.
I am Erin, hear me roar.
Or perhaps at least meow very loudly, like a precocious kitten still practicing at sharpening her claws.