When I was a little girl, my mom, Nana and I would all create. I believe Nana's teachings on the history of items and Mom's guidance on nature's appreciation both contributed to the driving force to combine the two with artistic expression. It wasn't the societal trend we see today.
I was sitting in Nana's house after watching them work a project. I probably loaned them a bit of advice which sparked an idea for Mom. She suggested some day the two of us open our own store and name it "Stuff and Thangs". Well, there, a dream was born.
Many years later, my husband and our family downsized from a suburban town to a rural community on the outskirts of Houston. Crosby had a WalMart, a "Mom and Pop" grocery store and a tiny row of buildings considered to be the "antique district". The old buildings and their history stirred me each time I passed. At this time in my life, I spent a great deal of driving just for the sake of exploring. Exploring not only my new home but my new "self". You see, I had just spent three years involved in a program to heal myself from the bondage of codependency. It was indeed time to move forward. I finally stopped in to scavenge through the stores.
I found the stores a bit scary as I wandered through the darkened aisles that once had been the main attraction to this small town. I discovered remnants of the past to be interesting not only in their history but display. Sometimes collectibles displayed beautifully on a vintage mirrored tray. But sometimes they appeared dumped in a cardboard box that limply laid in the floor, softened by water damage and time. But they all had one thing in common...they stirred me.
I questioned what things were used for. Why was this worth $100 and this, $2. Sometimes I wondered why something ugly often became more attractive in just a short minute once I was told the story behind it. Befriending the shopkeeper became easy. They love to be asked the history. The stories became a therapy to me and she quickly became my friend when a friend was needed by me so very much. Tammy soon offered me a booth space to bring my painted creations to her shop. I saw "justification" for the vice I had developed while tiptoeing through difficult times at home. This was my 13th STEP!
(No personal photos but these are very close)
My first booth was in the warehouse at the back of her shop. While unloading items (I doubted would be good enough for public acceptance as well as purchase) I was encouraged by the small crowd gathering to watch and select. Fumbling for prices and display plans, the crowd made purchases immediately. The most encouraging was the property owner. She, in her obvious eccentric style, appreciated the use of art incorporated into the vintage furniture pieces.
I rushed home to more painting, gluing, and refurbishing. After a few months, she became a regular buyer. Rose soon informed me she was, of sorts, a "middle man" for Shabby Chic Industries. She had been purchasing and selling my designs to Rachel Ashwell and the SC team. The hand selected items were duplicated and mass produced as well as used for props in display ventures for SC publications. Naive to business and the now famous name, I was content just doing what I loved and making an estimated $20 for a small piece of painted furniture and $60 on something like a kitchen Hutch. She soon offered a deal difficult to pass up. My own store where she could see the wide range of inventory on a grander scale as well as an opportunity for the public to buy at retail while I developed my name. Terrified, I asked for her smallest location. Approximately 400 square feet. I'll never forget her reply. "You are too good for that and if you dream small, you'll receive small". Hmmmm.....I was afraid but have always accepted fear as something much like the common cold. It must be addressed and overcome. Period!
She pushed for her larger store. 2500 square feet of 1912's version of a bank building had been transformed into a wide open space filled with magic! Pastel painted antique furniture, art, needlepoint textiles and hand embellished chandeliers were trademark. The front windows were kept quirky and enticing from the busy main road. The sidewalks were sprinkled with changing vignettes featuring garden iron pieces and real flowers.
But from the first opening day I realized some visitors had a different agenda. Locals would come by to sit and have coffee, and at times, a cake slice or cookie. They would visit about their personal lives. Tammy had warned me about decorating in a "too homey" feel. I disagreed. The thought that just an environment could evoke a feeling of comfort and trust in total strangers flattered me but also intrigued me. How a personal journey is never completely personal. We need to share.
Soon a local came in and shared a familiar story. She opened up about a family member who had turned their lives upside down through drug use. The teen was self destructing and the parents weren't getting help from school or authorities. They were losing their home, jobs, and marriage over the teen's daily tribulations. I took a gamble and shared my experience and resources, encouraging her to have them get help for themselves before expecting the teen's life to turn around. A few days later, another came in with a similar story. This time it was a son. The next week, a neighbor's step-daughter. Then a granddaughter. This went on for a year. Before I knew it, the town had labeled me.
The "counselor-painter". The counselor-painter??? I was transforming forgotten finds not people! This wasn't my dream!!! I really thought people who had their own stores were rich and I wasn't getting there. Pondering on this for awhile, I realized. So I'm supposed to be getting rich, not listening to my story pouring out of others' mouths while all of a sudden...something beautiful happened. A revealation. A distressed soul exposed itself and all its vulnerability and history while displaying layers of softness. Pastels with romantic wanderings graced its very surface. SHABBY, yet CHIC defined a story so many share. We had discovered a beauty.
I was healing. They were healing. I was rich....just not with money.
