Recently, events beyond my control have caused a seemingly downward spiral to affect daily life and emotion. When this happens, I tend to become very introspective and focus more on how I wish things were than the ugly reality of how things are in the moment. While hopping across the internet I came upon this New York Times article entitled The New Antiquarians, describing the life and decorating style of two New York sisters and the objects that surround them.
I got to thinking about how their home embodies the late 19th century aesthetic I would love to fully embrace, but for the modernity that is thrust upon me by the hour. I sell items from the 1960s so that I can lust after small artifacts of the 1850s. I wear my hair to the hip and hide ruffly blouses in the closet with the dreams of someday being transported. I cry into soft cotton handkerchiefs and dab myself with perfumes that remind me of past dates and times (only some of them imaginary).
Then I gather up my wallet my keys my cellphone, and get in the car. Such is life.