My mother and I had little in common. Still, I occasionally deigned to accompany her to an antique fair on a Sunday afternoon. My mother was a pretty creature who delighted in dainty ornaments, china dogs, plates decorated with trailing wisteria, and art nouveau egg cups. I embraced an alternative kind of aesthetic – minimalist, possibly nihilist. Black stretchy skirts, black tights, Doc Martens and a sullen expression. I preferred to rummage through piles of Victorian frock coats and gaze longingly at cases of heavy silver jewellery.
Of course, I didn't show it, but I loved the thrill of entering a rural church hall or the reception room of a local hotel and seeing the pile of clutter before me, that riot of ceramics, old leather, and lace. One Sunday,…
You're reading a preview of
The Simple Things (Digital) - 1 Issue, February 2025