I'm not especially materialistic or extravagant. I wouldn't be caught dead wearing designer fashions (unless I find them at Goodwill) or driving a fancy car or eating at trendy restaurants. Whatever acquisitive genes I might have, they seem to be programmed to desire old-fashioned, imperfect, history-steeped things.
It all started when I moved into a cute cottage that was built in 1936. It's not a luxurious house and not even especially convenient (the bathrooms are too small, the sinks scratched and rusty, and the staircase is perilously narrow and steep). But there are wonderful coved ceilings, arches, nooks, crannies and cubbyholes. It's a house that wraps itself around you and lets you know you are home.
Such a house needed a few circa-1930s-40s tablecloths I figured. So I ventured onto ebay and plugged in the keywords "vintage tablecloth." Wow! There were many of them, one prettier than the next. I didn't know where to begin.
So I emailed my delightful friend Deb who knows about all things old, and she, it turned out, had been collecting vintage tablecloths for years. She gave me some pointers and I dug in and started bidding.
It didn't take me long to find my dream tablecloth. Printed with red, pink and teal geraniums, it was adorable and absolutely perfect for my kitchen. As a seasoned collector, I now know that this particular cloth was made by Springmaid and it appeared in the 1947 Sears catalog. I also know that, as sweet as this cloth is, on the tablecloth collecting circuit it is common as dirt. But of course, I didn't realize that at the time. I had to have it.
I bid lavishly and won. And then I waited to receive an invoice or email or some piece of information about what I was supposed to do next. As an ebay newbie, I needed some guidance from my seller. I started to panic as days went by without any word from her.
Just as I was giving up hope, I was stunned and delighted to stumble across the exact same tablecloth, listed by a completely different ebay seller. This should have been my first clue that this was a less-than-rare tablecloth. To me, it was simply a miracle. I bid again and won. The nice seller contacted me, and she told me that she happened to have two of these tablecloths and was sending both to me. In the meantime, seller number one resurfaced and, by the end of the week, I owned three vintage tablecloths—and they were all exactly the same.
It was an auspicious beginning. I started out with a respectable little stack of textiles on a kitchen shelf; now they are everywhere.
And why not? Vintage tablecloths are recycled goods, and they are very affordable pieces of art and history. I love the fabulously creative designs, the gorgeous colors, and the friendly charm of these beautiful textiles. I don't hoard and am not a packrat. My tablecloths are all out and about, stacked on shelves, draped over the backs of chairs or—a novel idea—spread atop tables.
Much of what is in my house is just passing through—spending a little time basking in the glow of my admiration before being sold through my antique booth at the mall or on ebay. A little piece of cozy history, enjoyed, admired, and then passed on.
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