NO 7 “UP-CYLED AND FANCY!”
Now this will come as no surprise to anyone who has met me, but I didn’t grow up in a fancy pants house with an east wing, extensive grounds and staff who came running when summoned. Although in fairness my mum did a fabulous job of keeping me supplied with hot tea on tap and clean knickers. And my dad was, throughout my teens, the very best taxi driver, waiting outside venues for me and my giggly mates to clamber into the back seat after nights out, praying no-one threw up their Lambrusco on his velour seats. The house I grew up in was terraced and whilst my brothers shared a bedroom, my bed filled the floor of the little room at the front of the house. The garden was a postage stamp and the kitchen the hub, filled with love, music and laughter while my beloved mum churned out shepherd’s pie and spag bol by the ton.
For most of my life I’ve been a little rootless. First hopping from room to room then flat to flat and eventually marrying a soldier which meant being posted far and wide. Our houses were always temporary, bland, and never quite felt like home. They might have been in different towns, cities or countries, but were identikit and full of army issue curtains, lampshades and grotty furniture – not that we weren’t very grateful to have a roof over our head.
But when our fortunes changed and we were able to buy a house, quite a fancy pants house, as it turned out, I didn’t know where to start. I knew I didn’t want anyone else to design the interior and I didn’t want it to look like a page out of a magazine or catalogue. It needed to be somewhere that was a haven, that felt like home. Somewhere that everyone felt comfortable enough to kick off their heels and sink into a sofa… I was also acutely aware that what the planet didn’t need and what I didn’t need was a load of new stuff – not when there was second hand things knocking around that would do the job just fine! Not only do I find it fun sourcing pieces and working on repurposing projects myself, but it also felt like an obvious choice for me to try and recreate the rooms in which I had always felt safe, happy and loved: those of my parents, grandparents and great grandparents. Theirs were rented East London dwellings where laughter ran down the anaglypta wallpaper and endless cups of tea were drunk in comfy chairs while we gathered around the fireplace.
With this in mind I began to scour the Internet, or search auctions and charity shops for the things with which I would furnish my home. I’ve even been known to dive into a skip or two! I’m proud to say that practically the only things I have bought new are sofas – but almost everything else in our farmhouse from table mats to cushions - is either up-cycled, repurposed or second hand, meaning less waste and a lovely old-fashioned feel to the place I call home.
My chairs are skip finds, my nightdress is Victorian - and still beautiful, even my crockery is mismatched and pretty – I’m surrounded by the history of all these people I never knew, saving the things that were once precious to them and why not? It is my unique style, but employs the mantra my grandparents and great aunts were raised on: re-use, re-cycle, make-do and mend.
The coffee table in the library is an old barn door - I love that it’s weathered and rusting but now sits inside in front of the fire – as if it earned the right to come in to the warm after all those years of service in the wind and rain!
My favourite planter is an old bread crock – it’s a great size and makes a statement as it sits in a dusty corner – I picked this up in a garage sale. It’s a beautiful sturdy object.
My blankets are crocheted from old wool and might not be fashionable, but I love that they have been hand knitted – all that time and skill! It’s a great way to use up scraps of old wool too and even a novice knitter like me can make them!
My desk is pitch pine and covered with the witness marks of wet mugs, I only hope the person who made them took joy from a hot drink as they worked… I know I do!
The rugs on my bedroom floor are from the 1940’s and again are handmade - I think I paid 20 quid each for them and they are soft and pretty, I often think of who might have owned them and where they sat in their homes.
My walls are covered in “art” that is mainly embroidered. These pictures and samplers are hand sewn, usually by women and date from the 1920’s, 30’s and 40’s. They are cheaply framed, and I LOVE them! Every time I look at them, I think of all those hours put into producing something so beautiful! I also picture the walls they graced during war, births, deaths, and marriages… Oh that they could speak of what they have seen and heard! I collect them and save them, not wanting all that work to go unappreciated. I’d love to know who patiently embroidered them and I’d like her to know that I truly treasure her work.
So that’s my up-cycled fancy home. Not that it’s entirely without mod cons, I mean if anyone suggested swapping out my fancy pants coffee machine for a cup of instant, I might just kick off…
*for more information on Amanda or to buy her books, head to www.amandaprowse.com
Love this post. I agree with enjoying old and recycled things. I too wonder about what was happening in those awesome people, who they were, their history, etc! BTW what is a skip? Judy
Your home sounds wonderful and exactly how I like a home to be. I like mixing old and new and like browsing in second hand shops. I like a house with ‘soul’ and ‘heart’ and it sounds as if your home has that in abundance. Will you be doing tours? I’d like a peek!!