I need to stop already. Yesterday after doing my annual Thanksgiving Amberglass shop (I scored 8 amber wine glasses with the most gorgeously thin stems)I came home. Only to find that the little old lady across the street was having a huge estate tag sale. By 6 pm, the buyers were gone, and there was a lot of stuff left. A helpful sign read "It didn't go. You take it".
And then I saw her: the 1947 RCA-Victor Golden Throat of my dreams. And she was in a slightly worn mohagany shell. I could harldy move it by myself. Then a huge cocktail party distracted me, and I was off until this morning.
Wandering over in my housecoat and slippers, she was still sitting there. So, setting my coffee down, and holding my cigarette in my mouth like a pro-seemstress can hold stick pins...I carried it across the street to my driveway. After retrieving my coffee, I had to figure out how I was going to break it to my partner that we had a large new piece of furniture. So, without missing a beat, I polished it, and shined up her bakelite knobs.
When he rolled out of bed, I excitedly lead him to the drive, and he said while scratching his head in his monkey boy way, all while I was doing my best Carol Merrill I was delighted when he responded with an "OK. Where exactly do you want this?" SOLD!! I wasn't going to have to pout and point out all its fine features as I had planned in my well groomed head. Its now in the sitting room, and I've even taken the delicious Maize striped fabric off the big speaker panel. I'm soaking in baby shampoo right now (thats how you clean old linen...trust me). Its going to look simply tremendous.
My fantasy of living in the 1940's is blossoming right infront of my very eyes. I can't wait to put on some Glenn Miller and drink some wine in the comfort of my Post War sitting room.
Moral of this blog: "we meet, and the angels sing!"