October 26, 2011
What's the deal with the human lure toward ugly things? Ugly dogs, ugly patterns, ugly pumpkins, ugly cars--people like ugly. And lately I'm absolutely obsessed with an ugly little storefront that's down the street from Jared. Do I feel bad for it? Do I want to mother it?
I don't know, but I take that back. It's not ugly, it's tired. No, exhausted. And I feel like it's an egg (a wood-panelled egg), and my dreams are swooshing around inside of it, waiting to BURST OUT like a butterfly, catch a draft on a moonbeam, and glitter my life with heaven dust. Except butterflies don't hatch from eggs, which is fine.
Did I mention that it's also an Art-Deco egg? I love Art-Deco.
Back in the day, this place must have been a little dress shop--at least that's what the storefront windows make me think. A dress shop or a hat shop, but either way, a place where fabulous ladies shopped. I don't know what it's been lately, but I think I know what it's about to become, and damn. Just damn.
I haven't been all the way through this space, but I'm planning to get in there today or tomorrow--when I can really peel back some carpet, and pull down some paneling, and see if there's cool looking duct work up above the drop ceiling.
Right now, the potential is completely in my imagination, which is an okay place to start. In my imagination, the space runs all the way to the back of the building. In my imagination, the space has old wood floors that I can paint. And in my imagination, I'll be able to afford an awning by spring.
In reality, I know that if only one of my imagined scenarios is true, I'm a lucky duck.
So. Can anyone out there tell me an amazing transoformation story? A house your remodeled? A barn you saved? A rust bucket car you restored? How you learned to use a hammer? All for fifty bucks?
Sometimes I forget that we overhauled Jared's office, and a tiny little house back in 2003.
What have you overhauled?