Treasure Box Wednesday: Treasured Vintage China

It was a slow time for thrifting this past week. So while I don't have any new treasures to share with you, I do have some goodies I've enjoyed for many years.

Perhaps some of you long-time readers of The Thrift Shop Romantic might recall me picking up a few of these individual pieces over the years. But I think items take on a whole new life when you see them displayed together, in their element.

I have been picking up lusterware plates and cups at thrift stores for at least a decade. Same goes for chintz teacups and sandwich dishes I'd carefully chosen from places like TJ Maxx and the now-long-gone Royal Albert outlet at Grove City.

But it was only recently, I finally got the right place to display them: a turn-of-the-century oak china cabinet...
So it was with great joy-- and some really tough decision-making-- that I chose the pieces from my collection I would ultimately keep and display...

It was a little like choosing from favorite children. But, seeing it all together, I was struck by common themes...
Bright aquas and juicy greens... Deep red and pink roses.... Delicate lavenders... And lots of shine...
Teacups were mostly thrift store discoveries, and I'm struck with how cheerful a collection can be, though amassed for just a small amount of money.
I made a home for favorite 1900s whiteware transfer plates, and hand-painted saucers I thrifted for $1...
And I tried to group colors together that went together. Layering chintz and lusterware as if in sets, with only the color palette to really tie them.

Last, I had to include the only real heirloom in the lot, my great-aunt's depression era china, in a pattern called Aquitania...
(Not to mention a stray Fenton carnival glass bowl I "Fleatiqued.")

The china cabinet is my real, and consistent Treasure Box... My glass garden... Something I pass each day and enjoy at different times in new ways, as the daylight in my diningroom changes and transforms it.

I hope the rest of your week is filled with little treasures, too!

Treasure Box Wednesday: Posies, Pyrex and Presents

Ah, the thrift stores were perfectly packed with pretty purchases, if perchance you paused for a peek.

I won't be saying that five times fast, but I will proceed to the pack of pictures. We'll start with Presents, I think. Yep-- pepper and salt shakers, in the grape milkglass pattern! Perfect for that ever-more-giant basket o' thrifted goodness for my good friend's mom.

I'm delighted that these seem to be in terrific condition, too.

And how about some Pyrex? In two separate thrift store adventures, I came across this pink scroll patterned casserole dish, and this cute hot-air balloon printed bowl...


The hot air balloon Pyrex set, I understand, originally was designed to serve chips, while a small nesting bowl clipped to it for dip...


The pink scroll pattern is one I haven't seen before at the thrift stores, so I was excited to spot this. And yes, I am enabling my Pyrexia.... but LOOK at it! It makes me happy and it's so fun...


At the St. Vincent DePaul Thrift Store in Penn Hills, I found this excellent marble-topped table, with a built-in table lamp for just $7.99!...

It needs some dusting and some sturdying up, but it was just too much my taste to pass up.

Then under the label of Posies, we have this vintage tablecloth...

I could just see this, with its brightly colored flowers-- Poppies, Perhaps?--- on a summer table. And the Salvation Army Thrift Store had this lace tablerunner, which matches my diningroom mantle scarf and window treatment...


Lastly, I found this little fairy centerpiece bowl, which matches two vintage candlesticks I already had. Now I have a whole set!


And before I go, I just thought you might enjoy seeing the bit of mantle messing around I did on Sunday...

You'll see I'm using those tall cherub lamps I'd found for $4 a piece at the Goodwill a few weeks back-- the ones I wasn't sure whether I would paint or not. They look surprisingly good just as-is here. I wasn't quite expecting that. The lampshades were Shabby Chic shades, just $2 a piece at Gabriel Brothers a year or so ago...

Anyway, you never know what you'll be able to use until you start pulling things together and trying it. But I think that's really a part of all the fun!

• If you missed Sunday's post, The Attraction of Carnival Glass, click here.

Otherwise, perhaps you'll pop by for next Sunday's post? Perfect!

Aprons and Hankies: Time, Ties and Trends

Aprons and hankies. What is it about these vintage textiles that makes our hearts go pitty-pat like they do?

Is it the memories of our mothers, our grandmothers? I don't know. Grandma was a fan of the housecoat, and my dear mom was more inclined to find flour on her jeans than she was on any apron. And hankies, well, Mom received one each year as a gift from a beloved family friend. These remained squirreled away in a drawer for safe-keeping for a day that would never come. They were too precious to use, she said. Too important to tuck into a sleeve, to dare touch a nose in need. They existed entombed wood and in mothballs, waiting for some curious archaeologist to break them free some day. They belonged in a museum, not in daily life.

Well, maybe it's the texture. The soft, gentle feel of a handkerchief against the cheek. The starched, crispness of a crepey apron.


Perhaps it the color. Vibrant shades that call to mind the joy of culinary exploration. Of the smart reuse in a casserole. Of the order and art of a Jell-O mold.

Or maybe it's the patterns. A garden of flowers abound, and a year of holidays is celebrated, all in this fabric of the past.


But most likely, it's all of these, and more. As the years have passed, aprons and hankies have become symbols-- not of our oppression as wives, mothers, and career women and home-makers-- but of a gentler time. Of some idealized place in our minds and hearts where there's always something baking in the kitchen, and where good manners still exist, inviting you in to have a seat and a cup of tea. In a world that may feel cold, harsh and entirely too busy, aprons and hankies are tangible representations of the little niceties that bring comfort and stability, femininity and love.

It's probably a place that never really quite existed. The standards are just too high.



I still see Mom with the flour on her jeans, a box of Puffs in the kitchen. But as I make her Crock-pot potroast this morning, to simmer all day, the scent wafting through the house the way I did the home in which I grew up three decades ago, the aprons and hankies still somehow say what needs to be said. Here's me, cooking in my pajamas, of all things. Not bothering to style my hair first. To put on heels. To tie that apron to my waist. But the hankies adorn a table top. An apron might serve as a valance.

They make me happy to see because they say the niceties are still here. With us. Ready to make home a place worth coming back to. They're just a little bit different now.

Well, that's all for today. If you missed my Wednesday feature "Good Books and New Blogs" you might want to click here to check that out. That has a fun little tag, as well as an announcement about new bloggy goodness. And maybe I'll see you THIS Wednesday as we have another "Treasure Box" feature which showcases some finds uncovered in the South Hills. (Yes, I actually wasn't snowed on and made it out to the thrifts this week!) Take care, my nice invisible friends. Thanks for being there.

Artichoked Up Over Befuddling Vintage Vittles

Ah, Amy Vanderbilt: the Martha Stewart of yesteryear. But even Martha has her "off" days, right? (Cooking and crafting ones, I mean. Not ones that involve electronic ankle bracelets; this blog can only cover so much.)

What I'm trying to say is: not all creative ideas withstand the test of time... or, say, make it comfortably through the digestive process. And those are the recipes I hope you'll get some grins from today.

The first comes from the 1966 Amy Vanderbilt Success Program for Women cookbook, "Serving Food Attractively."


The book tells us, "Artichokes, halved, filled with jellied madrilene and topped with a slim slice of lemon are beautiful to look at and wonderful to eat." Merriam-Webster defines madrilene as "a consumme flavored with tomato." So basically, we're talking cold brothy-tomatoey jelly veg-nests here.

To look at this dish and its display-- complete with spoon-- reminds me a bit of the dinner scene in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. Only they used monkey heads instead of artichokes.

But what is it we have over here? The book tells us an important part of good eating is in the presentation. So what exactly adorns our table?


Why, artichoke candlestick holders, of course! Made from fresh artichokes. And over here on the wall-- what says Old World Charm more than a wrought-iron wall plaque adorned with... yes, that's right... MORE real artichokes?


Ah, dig deep into your refrigerators, my friends-- it could be a whole new world of decorating inspiration. Store salt in your squash, pepper in your pears, and hang shallots from your chandelier to give it that special je ne sais quois (translation, "Why the heck is THAT up there?).

Do you test spaghetti by tossing a strand against the wall? Leave it. Enough pots of pasta and soon, you'll have a unique, handcrafted sculpted art installation, envied by all your closest friends who also tap into the Food Pyramid for decor options.

And when you tire of it? The candlesticks and wall art of today might just be the main course of tomorrow. There's no END to the possibilities.

Or, you could just, you know, shell out five bucks for some thrifted candlesticks and some paintings. Either way, really.

Well, how about this?

Here we are in the Tower of London. Ah!-- aren't the Crown Jewels stunning? And--

Oops, my bad. That's lamb. But, wait, what's that bubbling up from inside that little roast volcano?


A little hard to tell from here. Let's read the caption, shall we?

"Try your favorite recipe for crown roast of lamb. Top it with a combination of sauerkraut, rice and honey..."

Sauerkraut, rice and honey? So... okay, cabbage and then...

"Brussels sprouts make a flowery center for a frill of golden yams, and the spectacular spumoni make this an exciting holiday dinner."

I'll say it'll be exciting! A holiday dinner of twenty people devouring heaping plates of cabbage and brussels sprouts? And we all know what Great-Uncles Ernest and Eugene were like at the family picnic after a couple of plates of baked beans. With great mounds of these gaseous greens, a Silent Night it's unlikely to be!

Well, let's move from the holiday table to more practical, everyday eating, with the Amy Vanderbilt Success Program For Women "Casserole Cookery" book. And this book truly understands the pain of the modern 60s homemaker:

"Does your husband groan when you mention you are going to have a casserole for dinner?... Between you and me, many a delectable casserole has been made from left-overs, but husbands usually have to be shielded from the information that left-overs are the prime ingredient..."

(The poor dear flowers. So sensitive.)

"...Casserole cooking should be creative and stimulating, both in an intellectual and gustatorial manner..."

That's right, folks. "Intellectual" and "stimulating." So with that, I give you:


Kraut and Frankfurter Tahitian-- "a flavorful combination of sauerkraut, pineapple, onion, green pepper and frankfurters."

Ah, Tahiti... the waves, the breeze, the outdoor stands where you can get a red-hot with kraut on it for just under a Pacific franc.

What, you'd heard Tahitian cuisine was based on the island's French and Polynesian heritage? No, no, no! That's just for TOURISTS. TRUE island cuisine reflects all the processed meat gusto of an Oktoberfest in Munich. Remember, this dish is "intellectual." So it knows about culture and context and all of that stuff the rest of us don't. Trust the cookbook. It's a lot smarter than we are.

As proven by the inclusion of this little guy...


This is the island god, Ozca Maia. He's protector of the processed meats and ensures the prosperity of the island's vast cabbage plantations. You use him to distract your husband from the fact he's eating leftovers by prompting a fresh and exciting dinnertime conversation.

Conversation like, "Honey, what is this wooden thing, and why does it look like it's yodeling?"

That's when you tell him that yodeling was a popular ancient Polynesian pasttime, vital to tribal morale and communication. In fact, Tahitian Idol, as they called it, was the island's most popular weekly evening event.

See, how much more this cookbook knows than we do?

Now that we're done with cultural exploration of the South Seas, we move on to our friends in the North. The Far North. With "Swedish Pancakes with Tuna."


Note the gelatinous mold in the background, which is a to-scale replica of Sweden's famous ice hotel...

Or possibly the end scene in Ghostbusters after Mr. Stay-Puft exploded over that art deco apartment building.


Well, ice hotel or achitecture coated in nuked Fluff , it's an elegant way to showcase your culinary talents and distract your guests from the pot o' cheesy fishy bed-rolls before them.

Finally, today we unveil a side dish...


"Red Cabbage with Marrons and Bacon." This is described as "a delicious combination of flavors and a good accompaniment to meat, especially pork." Because, of course, what goes better with pork than... more pork? These vintage cookbooks are about nothing if not variety.

That aside, in my own ignorance, (because as I'd said before, I'm not as intellectual as this cookbook), I had to look up what marrons are. Merriam-Webster defines marrons as "chestnuts, and especially Spanish chestnuts, preserved in vanilla-flavored syrup."

So, looking at the full ingredients here, we're talking cabbage, bacon, red wine, a quarter pound of butter, and then nuts preserved in vanilla-flavored syrup?

The nice thing about this dish is how it caters to the low-cal heart-health set.

And best of all, when you're reaching for your insulin and clutching your chest from the angina, you might not even think about how much this dish looks like a human rights organization example of how undetected landmines hurt millions every year.

In the mood to read additional posts on questionable recipes of the past? You might enjoy:

• "Dubious Dinner and Riotous Retro Recipes," where sausages swim in synchronized routines and vegetarian dishes may very well be man-eating... click here

• Or "The Horrors of Home Cooking: Recipes of Yesteryear" where Worchestershire sauce demonstrates its versatility as well as its ability to instill gastronimic fear. Click here for that one.

Or, if that's not your style-- click here to check out last "Treasure Box Wednesday: In the Pink with Pottery, Pyrex and Plates."

Otherwise, I hope to see you this coming Wednesday! (Hmmm... I'm hungry. Time to remove that vegetable wall display and have a nosh.)

Crafting the Marshmallow PEEPS Carousel

Some people see sugary marshmallow chicks and think, "Look, dessert!" Me, I'm the sicko who thinks, "Hm, what I can glue them to?"

Actually, I'd been wanting to try my hand at making a cardboard Christmas village house, ever since I got my hands on some vintage-style cottages for the winter holidays. But when I realized there were extra Marshmallow Peeps lurking from last Easter's Peep Garland project just going to waste (er... curing) (click here if you'd missed that), ... well, the project took a suddenly Peeposterous turn.


"Why not build a cardboard carousel?" my brain mused. "In Easter colors! With Peeps Chicks instead of horses! And marshmallow rabbit onlookers?!"

(Yes, total suspension of disbelief is one of the primary rules for effective Peep crafting.)

The first step was to get the cardboard. This all involved stuff I would have thrown out otherwise-- the backs of used writing tablets, paper towel rolls, and parts of old boxes.


For the base, I made a pattern in Microsoft Word out of boxes-- a large square which would be the platform, surrounded by narrow rectangles of equal size all around it, to bend down and give the platform dimension. I printed this out as my template, and traced it onto the cardboard. I made four of those, cutting a circle in the center of two of them, that would allow the paper towel roll to fit through snugly.

I painted and glittered each of these pieces separately, so that way the paint job would be a little more pristine-- especially since I'd wanted to use a lot of different colors. The paints were Folk Art acrylics, and the glitter was Martha Stewart brand from Michaels. I used Martha's glitter glue, too.


Here's a close-up of the tube, so you can see the carousel "mural." I'd glued and painted four egg-shaped "windows" onto the carousel center featuring roughly-painted Peeps scenes... Mainly because it made me laugh...


Next, I made the roof. This was rough, given I'm apparently dimensionally-impaired. And it actually took me several tries to figure out how to make flat cardboard fold into a four-sized peaked roof. You can see the pattern of the four triangles laid out here...


When I made the roof the first time, it was huge. Really, really big. Like, one big wind in Peepville would blow the whole carousel over and cause major lawsuits. So I had to make it about half the size I originally did. You can see the giant pyramid here...


Next I poked four holes into the top and bottom base boxes using a Phillips head screwdriver, and skewered one Peep each through a plastic drinking straw. (Got a whole pack for $1 in Easter colors at CVS.) Then I fitted each Peep-on-a-stick into place, and put a bit of craft glue around both the paper towel roll in the center (top and bottom) and around the end of each straw. Then I glued the top and bottom boxes onto the piece. I also glued the more modest-sized roof to the top roof box, and glued and glittered those together to be more seamless.

The pink trim was simply strips of box carboard peeled apart from each other to create that ribbed look, and then trimmed on the top with pinking shears. These were painted, glittered and cut to fit.



Each Peep was moved into carousel position by using a cotter pin to hold it in place while a dollop of glue dried to affix it permanently.


Lastly the carousel was affixed onto its "grass" glitter platform. That base is just some cardboard that came with a calendar, and glued onto a heavier box cardboard for more stability. It was painted, glittered, and the carousel was stuck to it...


A blue and a pink bunny Peep were added to the scene, waiting in line for the ride. (Why, may I ask, are the marshmallow rabbits called "Peeps," too? Ah, just one of the mysteries of life...)

Things I'd do differently if I did this again? I would make the entire piece rounded instead of square. Also, I really don't feel the structure would pass Peepville building codes; edges aren't as flush as I'd like, things don't sit quite as flat as I'd hoped, so I'd be more meticulous about how I cut my patterns.

All in all, though, it's a funny display for the house, and a great way for a little trash-t0-treasure fun at the Easter holiday. Hope you had fun during this magical moment of Peep entertainment!

For those of you who missed the post on my thrift-store-decorated work office, click here. Otherwise I hope you see you for this next Treasure Box Wednesday, when we uncover some orphaned saucers, some springy plates for $1 and I become reacquainted with a bowl like my mother's which I'd thought was lost to the sands o' time.

Thanks, as always, for being a part of it all! I just love that you folks stop by!

Hearts and Thoughts: Victorian Valentine Postcards

Cheeky cherubs, the secret language of flowers, shy glances and bawdy wit... You'll find it all in Valentine postcards from the early 20th century. But this delightful vintage ephemera offers a collector more than just vivid images, symbolism and little bit of humor. It tells a story, too-- giving us a quick peek into the lives of the people who posted the cards-- those who took a moment to jot a note, share a thought, even subtly say what could not be said in person. So today, I'll share with YOU just a few cards from my collection, and the little stories they carry with them. I think you'll agree, it's a look at history and humanity, all on a 3 1/2 by 5 scrap of paper.


"To My Dearie." Oh, I love it!-- We just don't phrase things like that anymore. And on the back, we get a quick view into the social life of Goff, PA, during 1909. It reads:

Hello Harvey-
There is a dance on Friday night, November 5th at Edward Thomas. You are invited and would you please and tell Mr. and Mrs. McCurre. And if you see James Richard tell him and Allen Ruffner. Please try and come.

From
Anna

Did Harvey show up? Did he invite the others? Was this a casual invitation, or a subtle way for Anna to let Harvey know she wanted to see him? Did the "To My Dearie" have any relation to the message on the card, or did Anna just use whatever card she had on hand? It makes you wonder.


The front of this card , which bears a couple in close discussion, tells us:

The old, old story so often told, to hearts and souls its tales unfold.

And on its back is the note:

M.G.-
I arrived to Pittsburg yesterday after noon. I think always about you and how you? I am with best regards yours,

M.K.

I think it's an interesting reflection of how our world has grown that the writer here makes Pittsburgh (which was spelled without the ending "h" in 1910) sound like it's a country away. When in fact, this card was sent from Pittsburgh to Alverton in Westmoreland County which is, at most, an hour drive by today's standards. In 1910, however, that distance would, indeed, have seemed like a real adventure!

Now THIS card actually IS communicating over a distance...


The card itself bears no note, just the name and address of one young serviceman-- Pvt. Wyon N. Taplain, at Bovington Camp in Dorset, England-- to one Miss Doris Wheeler. Perhaps the verse in French on its face side was meant to say it all. In French, it reads:

Au Crepuscule
L’ombre du soir descend sur la ville endormie
Mais l’ombre du passe surgit devulan mes yeux
Et j'ecoute attentive en mon coeur anxieux
Comme un echo lointain, vibrer ta voix amie
Dans l’ombre qui descend du ciel silencieux

Tapping into my dusty high school French, an online dictionary, and some very welcome assistance from Sujatha over at Fluff-n-Stuff, it translates to say:

At Twilight
The shadow of night descends on the sleeping town
But the shadows of the past spring up before my eyes
And I listen, attentive to my anxious heart
Like a distant echo, your friendly voice vibrates
In the shadows descending from the silent sky.

Did the Private make it back from his service? What did he experience during his time overseas? Is the recipient his sweetheart, or a relative? We get only a slice of the story.


The card above appears to have been used as a bit of an in-joke between two close sisters. The front says:

Love’s Token
When lips met lips
In one sweet kiss
The world seems fair
And full of bliss

You'd think this card would have been used as an expression of sentiment between a couple in love, right? But the message on the back, in the penmanship of a gradeschooler, seems to label the action shown on the front:

Billie and Grace Mind
Billie looken.
SIS

I wonder if Billie or Grace ever caught wind of this little exchange? The ornery sense of humor shines through decades later.



Now here, this one above is among my favorite cards. On the front it reads, "For my Valentine." And on the back, we see some thoughtful greetings from an aunt and uncle to their beloved niece.

To Mary
With love to a dear little sweetheart
Aunt Ettie, Uncle John

I love the "dear little sweetheart" line, I wonder how old Mary was when she received this piece of mail. I find myself picturing this ringletted Shirley Temple, bubbling over with joy at receipt of an actual piece of post for herself.


As for this card, the front is in Italian and reads:

Linguaggio d'amore
Come il Giglio
simbol di candore
tu sei per me il mio
sacro amore

Which, using a handy-dandy online dictionary and a translator, seems to say:

Language of love
Like the lily,
symbol of candor,
you are to me
sacred my love

And the inscription on the back reads:

My beloved, I received your letter of the 9th I am well, hope you are the same. The answer to it will follow this evening. I haven’t the time just now. Everything is O.K. out here. Best wishes, love and many kisses XXXX from your faithful Josie

It's addressed to Miss Mary Travaglio, and came from Houston, Texas to the Butler, PA area. Are Mary and Josie sisters? School chums? How did a card from Italy come to be used by Josie in Texas to send to Pennsylvania? We may never know.

Well, here's hoping you all enjoyed this little glimpse into the past today. On Valentine's Day, when you receive those cards from your nearest and dearest, you may find yourself wondering-- in 80 years, who will be reading and enjoying your cards anew?...

How long will these Valentine sentiments endure?

Thanks for stopping by today! And if you have an extra moment, click here to connect to last year's Valentine's Jam Tart recipe (because it's yummy). Or click here if you missed last week's Treasure Box Wednesday post featuring "Deco Delicacies, Gracious Gravyboats and Others."

Hope to see you again this coming Wednesday for a whole new Treasure Box post! Until then, take care.