Long before I started doing this vintage/repurposing thing as a business, people would tell me about a cool piece of furniture on some curb that they thought I might like. How did they know this? Well, my driveway is a dead giveaway of somebody who can't help herself from cleaning, sanding, staining and painting the trash of others.
Now that I am doing it for money, the calls for potential goods have become more frequent. If a dumpster moves in where one of my peeps lives, they will keep an eye on it to let me know whether it's dive-worthy.
Last fall, my friend Karen called and left a message. A little excited and out-of-breath. "You have to get over here. There's a great piece on the curb across the street. Don't wait. Hurry." I was in the shower and when I called her back she said she'd watch it until I got there.
When I arrived she had already dragged it over to her driveway in fear of someone else taking it. It was a filthy, ugly fabric, rusty nailhead, sad, little wicker piece. I will say that she had more faith in me than I did in myself because I loaded it into my car as more of a courtesy for all her effort than actual excitement.
It sat in the garage for six months and when I pulled it out last month I noticed the springs were hand-tied which nobody does anymore. On the back was a metal plate that said Heywood Wakefield, and The Queen Mum who will never understand this trash hauling of her daughter, said I got a keeper.
This is what happens when you have a picker, some stain, a new seat, fabric, pillows, a lot of time and a crazy, unexplainable crush on all things old...................