About

This story starts with a house on First Street. It wasn't my house, which looking back, added to it's mystique. It belonged to my aunt, an artist. It was a Victorian with rooms I'd never heard of and door handles that looked like diamond rings. My favorite place was sitting on the down-filled club chairs. They were covered in a Chinoiserie print in grays and reds. I would make up stories about the men and women strolling around the pagodas. In the kitchen were cobalt dishes for daily use and Blue Calico Staffordshire for family gatherings. The sun room was filled with ferns and was my favorite spot in hide-and-seek. 

The love, eclecticism, and memories of cousins and animals from that house follows me. My love of Chiang Ming fabric, quirky china in shades of blue, and the perfectly imperfect all stem from that house. I live in a plain vanilla condo with my husband and three small children. It is my labor of love to turn this condo into a home like the House on First Street.