You know how when you're standing in line at the grocery store there's sometimes a magazine with a really cute cover photo of either a bunch of outfits or an adorable room setup with the headline "This Look For Less!"? And you think to yourself, "Omg-really? I can look like Zooey Deschanel for $35 even though I'm six feet tall, with brown eyes and a total inability to act?! AWESOME!"
The problem with these magazines (other than the question of genetic predisposition) is that yes, while that particular editor *may* have found an original Eames lounge chair in a Manhattan dumpster behind the Modern Museum of Art, and *happened* to have a signed Picasso hangin' out in the attic, let's face it, people: IT AINT GONNA HAPPEN TO YOU. The best you can hope for is Ikea to knock off that lampshade, so that you can buy it just like everyone else on the Isle of Cheap, and try to somehow personalize it. I recommend bedazzling. Not really.
Even if the stuff they have in the picture is not some kind of amazingly original vintage/antique, it's usually one of a kind. As in, there was one of those for $10 at the invitation-only flea market and the editor of Elle Decor already snagged it leaving the rest of us up the chimney without a sleigh.
BUT...drumroll please...It may have just happened to me.
I stopped by a local auction house that was having a giant garage sale (excuse me, "tag" sale...stupid regionalism) and everything today was marked down from it's already garage-sale price by 60%. I had scoped it out on Sunday and had my eye on some really nice terra cotta planters and green glass bowls, which magically were still there, just way cheaper this time. I took my trusty sidekick C along with me, as usual, and so we decided to do another once-over just to see if anything caught her eye.
We were perusing the aisles of junk when all of a sudden, angels sang. The heavens opened. There, on the right, was the awesomest couch ever. It's really mid-century modern looking with clean edges probably about 7 feet long. It's really solid and it has the most hilarious 1960s-burnt orange upholstery you've ever seen in your life.
I immediately started laughing when I saw it because I knew C would hate the color, and even the style isn't really her thing. "This couch is soooo cool," said as I plopped down on it. Ever practical, she looked at the pricetag: $100.
Honestly, I loved the couch. But, I didn't love it $100 worth when we already have an extra couch and no ideas for a new one. A new pumpkin orange colossus, at that.
I caught the attention of a nearby worker bee and inquired after the "AS IS" notation on the tag. "Oh, there's nothing really wrong with it, except the wear you can see. Isn't it an amazing couch for $40?"
Wait. $40? FORTY DOLLARS?! Yes. And it's coming home with me.
I loaded up my terra cotta and headed for the door, receipt for couch in hand. Pictures will be posted as soon as I can get Dan Dan the Handyman (who has a pickup truck) to deliver it for me.
So, I have officially done something in my life which I never thought would happen and pretty much makes me want to do a little dance. In fact, I already have.
Done the dance, that is.
Note to self: apparently the happy-couch dance is also a close relative of the rain dance, known as the blizzard dance. Hence the fact that my house in now 20,000 leagues under the snow.
Now all I need are some harvest gold pillows and an avocado colored throw to really start gettin' the good vibrations.