Breathing New Life Into Old Drawers

nota bene: At the risk of eliciting a few chuckles from my readers, brought about by the title of today's post, this essay really is all about reviving an old chest of drawers, and has nothing whatsoever to do with those other types of drawers, thank you very much! 


Sometimes I despair at how long it can take to find just the right item of furniture when looking to furnish the rooms of our house.  I don't make things easy on myself having a predilection for American Federal and English Regency furnishings and decorative arts. These things are, after all, not exactly in abundance here on the relatively young West coast of the United States. I do, however, remind myself that all good things are worth the wait.

Earlier this year, Lady Luck took pity on me while trolling an outdoor antiques market and presented me with the opportunity of snapping up the chest of drawers you see below.

 

Photo: Chronica Domus

Sorely in need of more storage space, this useful piece of furniture fit the bill.  In fact, I had been on the lookout for a Federal era chest of drawers for a number of years and this one was well worth the wait. The price was right too; embarrassingly so.  Having arranged for the chest's delivery with the dealer, I finally took possession of it several weeks after purchase.

Overall, the chest was in good condition for its age.  One of its prior owners had obviously cared for it enough to have the central panel of the backboard repaired a numbers of years ago, as well as one of the drawer bottoms.  Fortunately, the original finish and brass hardware remain intact.  I believe this bowfront mahogany chest was likely made in Massachusetts around 1810 - 1825. Of course, I would be delighted to learn more about such early American chests if any of you reading this would care to enlighten me.

The first thing I did to revive this tired looking Sleeping Beauty was to remove the stamped brass drawer knobs and corresponding back plates. They were filthy!  Setting to work with my trusty bottle of Brasso, a soft flannel cloth, and a bit of old-fashioned elbow grease, I soon had these beauties twinkling.

What a difference a bit of elbow grease and a few dabs of Brasso make to these Federal era stamped brass drawer knobs and back plates

Photo: Chronica Domus

Within an hour, I had restored all eight drawer knobs and back plates to their former gleaming glory

Photo: Chronica Domus

Next, my very handy husband took care of a couple of splits in the bottoms of two of the four drawers. Some hide glue, a few clamps, and a bit of patience soon put things right (thank you, Dearest!).

Photo: Chronica Domus

A once over with the vacuum cleaner removed heaps of dirt from the chest's dusty cavity.  It also unearthed these:

It's surprising what lurks within the nooks and crannies of an old chest of drawers

Photo: Chronica Domus

I then wiped the internal surfaces of each drawer with a damp cloth and allowed sufficient time for them to dry.  Remembering the stash of assorted wallpaper rolls in our basement, I trotted downstairs to see what was what.  You might be surprised to learn how handy a remnant roll of wallpaper or two is for little household projects.  It's not just for walls you know!

After making a template of one of the drawer bottoms with brown paper, I used it to
cut out four drawer liners from a remnant roll of marbled wallpaper
Photo: Chronica Domus

The marbled wallpaper liners are now secured in place with the aid of old-fashioned
brass drawing pins 

Photo: Chronica Domus

An application of furniture wax and plenty of buffing soon returned a glow to the old finish.  It also banished the unsightly moisture marks created by the glass lamps which sat upon the chest's top that fog-drenched day I spotted it for sale (seen in the first photograph of this post).

One final but important task remained.  To prevent the drawers from sticking, which can be quite a nuisance once they have been filled, I reached for an old candle stub.

Spent candles come in handy for waxing drawer runners

Photo: Chronica Domus

By rubbing a spent candle stub along the bottom of each runner, the drawers are again able to glide smoothly into position, just as they did when the piece was made two-hundred years ago.

All that elbow grease has really paid off!

Photo: Chronica Domus

I am delighted at how a little tender loving care and attention has helped breath new life into these old drawers. And, let me just add that this handsome and sturdy piece of furniture should never be underestimated for its usefulness around the house.  In fact, I think it is a great pity that most people confine chests of drawers to just the bedroom. This one, I am pleased to say, now resides in our dining room.  And, until I one day find the perfect sideboard, this is exactly where it will remain.  Stuffed full of napery, silver, and other assorted dining-related paraphernalia, everything is now within easy reach of setting the table.

Photo: Chronica Domus

Of course, every piece of furniture is enhanced by a small autumnal arrangement of 

ornamental cabbages, would you not agree?

Photo: Chronica Domus

The Federal mahogany bowfront chest of drawers in situ

(Yes, that's right, the dining room floors are still bare but I'm hopeful this too will be 

rectified one of these days!)

Photo: Chronica Domus

Tell me, is there a useful chest of drawers in your house that is not confined to a bedroom and if so, where did you place it and what does it hold?

An Autumn Dinner Party At Home

Nota bene: This is rather a long post on what I hope you will find an enjoyable account of a recent dinner party we held at home, and the preparations involved in making it all happen.

After the lull of summer, and the more casual al fresco entertaining of friends that goes on around here, we are always ready for a change of pace by the time autumn rolls around.  So, hatching a plan to rev things up a few notches, we began planning a small at-home-old-fashioned-sit-down-dinner-party back in early September. Now, I say "old-fashioned" because it appears to me that with few exceptions, the at-home-sit-down-dinner-party has become a rarity, at least in my world it is.  In an age where restaurants are so numerous, and everyone is short on time, I can very well understand the instinct to meet friends at a local eatery for an impromptu dinner.  We often dine out ourselves and, of course, if that is the only opportunity we have to catch up with acquaintances, we'll take it. However, there is nothing quite like an enjoyable at-home-old-fashioned-sit-down-dinner-party shared with a group of fun friends over the course of a long evening of tasty libations, scrumptious food, and delicious banter to make for a memorable occasion.  Now, doesn't all this sound infinitely more pleasing than having to put a time limit on a restaurant table, and worrying about when it will be turned over to the next hungry diner in line?

The door bell will soon be ringing, announcing the arrival of our dinner guests 

Photo: Chronica Domus

This past Saturday evening we kicked things off by hosting our first dinner party of the season.  Once we had secured a date when all of our guests would be available, it soon dawned on us that two of them would be sharing birthdays very close to the day of our party.  Well, that was all the impetus needed to ratchet things up and make the evening even more special.  However, before the first cork was popped in celebration, there was much to prepare.  These things take lots of effort and lots of planning to pull off successfully, so please don't be fooled into thinking otherwise by the "effortless entertaining" set.  Frankly, there is no such thing.  However, with adequate preparation, much can be accomplished.

As this was to be a small dinner party, we could handle all the food preparations ourselves. Larger gatherings, of course, would require outside help.  Once we had settled on the menu, which included recipes we were already comfortable cooking (do not attempt to make anything you are not already familiar with - your guests are not your guinea pigs for the evening!), we set about sourcing the ingredients.  A call to our favorite fishmonger was placed several days in advance of our dinner party to insure our order could be fulfilled.

Next, alcoholic beverages.  Champagne, port, white and red wine, check!  I leave this important task in the capable hands of my trusty husband who does the lion's share of our household's wine and spirits purchasing.  He seems to take more than a passing interest in keeping our wine cellar stocked, and we are rarely caught short of enjoying an evening's worth of imbibing.  One can have quite the party down there!

Hmm....decisions, decisions... but wait, let's take all three bottles upstairs!
Photo: Chronica Domus

The day before a dinner party is spent fussing over such details as the tarting up of the dining table, selecting flowers, and making sure the house is shipshape and Bristol fashion.

An early morning run to the San Francisco Flower Market is the first order of the day. If you are anything like me, you will easily find yourself becoming quite giddy at the sight of mounds of gorgeous greenery and flowers on offer.  Inevitably, it takes a few laps around the market before I can finally focus and settle on my purchases.  In the meantime, my husband patiently awaits in the Volvo ready to assist with packing it all into the boot trunk (thank you, darling!).

The Volvo packed with the morning's spoils

Photo: Chronica Domus

Once we return home, I turn my attention to tomorrow's menu.  I get to work making the carrot, leek, and thyme soup, and then poach Bosc pears in Merlot wine and spices.

Poached pears are simple, delicious, and elegant, just add vanilla ice cream or heavy whipped cream

Photo: Chronica Domus

These shall be eaten for dessert and are very easy to make.  The pears also provide quite the "wow" factor when presented at table.  I also make a batch of cheese straws that will be served, alongside other hors d'œuvres, in the drawing room with champagne.  While I'm racing around the kitchen, my husband takes his leave to shop for cheeses, chocolates, and assorted comestibles.  Thank goodness he's willing and able.  He enjoys the activities revolving around our dinner party preparations as much as I do.  

Having decided weeks ago that I would set the dining table with my recently acquired creamware, I have a last minute change of heart.  Realizing there would be seven of us at table (I only have six dinner plates), and no bowls from which to serve the soup, I quickly resort to "Plan B".  Old Paris Porcelain will suffice.  It is always wise to set the dining table and round up all the serving pieces to be used the day prior to a dinner party.  Averting last-minute pesky issues that could very well send the coolest of hostesses into a tizzy is the goal here.

I could feed a small army off Old Paris Porcelain dishes which, somehow, I've amassed in a variety of colors over the years - for this occasion, a classic gilt ring decoration seems appropriate

Photo: Chronica Domus

It is now Saturday morning, the day of our dinner party.  Although we had spent a lovely Friday evening over at our neighboring friends' house for dinner (thank you Jeannette and Harvey!), there is no sleeping in on this particular morning.  Locally grown seasonal vegetables need to be picked up at the farmers' market, where we are always assured of the best selection and freshest produce available. I would not dare leave such details to the last minute were it not for the fact that we are fortunate to have easy access to a reliable and excellent farmers' market.

Three bunches of organic carrots, two heads of cauliflower, and three bundles of brocollini will be added to the potatoes already at home to form part of this evening's menu

Photo: Chronica Domus

Next, I must bring the flowers and branches up from our basement and make three low arrangements for the dining room table, and two for the drawing room's mantelshelf. Meanwhile, my husband drives to the fishmongers to pick up our order, four pounds of fresh Alaskan halibut.

Dahlias, autumn's best flowers, in black and salmon pink, miniature ornamental cabbages, and green pin oak leaves await in a bucket
(note: It's best to avoid highly fragrant flowers on a dinner table - candles too for that matter!)

Photo: Chronica Domus

One of two diminutive posies that will grace the dining room table this evening - these stand in a pair of Anglo-Irish cut glass footed bowls

Photo: Chronica Domus

Once I've set the flowers on the table, I light the candles in the room so that I can snap a few photographs for the purpose of this blog post, and before I forget to do so later in the evening when the party is in full swing.  I think it is all beginning to look rather festive, don't you?

The third arrangement sits at the center of the table in a black basalt pot

Photo: Chronica Domus

Photo: Chronica Domus

With only a few hours remaining until our guests arrive, the dining room is almost ready for action

Photo: Chronica Domus

Later in the afternoon, I prep the vegetables that will be roasted (carrots, cauliflower) and sautéed (brocollini).  I make the base of the Béarnaise sauce which I finish right before we serve the fish.  It takes but a few minutes to prepare, as does the fish.  I leave my husband peeling potatoes while I set up the dishes that will hold the hors d'œuvres in the drawing room. I remember too that the refrigerated cheeses need arranging on a platter and set out, with plenty of time to come to room temperature before the cheese course arrives at table.  

With the frenzy of kitchen activity at full-throttle, we take a short break and perform a last minute walk through of the public rooms in the house.  We want to insure that every detail is taken care of before our guests ring the doorbell.  After all, our goal in hosting such a dinner party is to spend an enjoyable evening in the company of our dear friends, and to make them all feel as comfortable and as welcomed as possible. 

At five-thirty, once everything that can be taken care of ahead of time has been, we get ourselves party ready.  Obviously we want to look our very best when greeting our friends at the front door, who will also arrive dressed appropriately for such a celebratory dinner (this means at minimum ties for the gents in our merry party). With thirty minutes to go, my husband makes a quick gee and tee for himself. I, wisely, forgo my cocktail - just this once - but promise to make up for things once the bubbly begins flowing.  The red wine and port is decanted, and the white wine and champagne is chilling on ice.

My husband lights the fireplace right before six-thirty, the time our guests are expected. This is the first fire of the autumn and I can't think of anything more welcoming than the glowing flames of a roaring fire lighting up a room during the cooler months of the year.

Photo: Chronica Domus

The doorbell rings at approximately six-forty which means it's party time. Once everyone has arrived, we toast two of our dear friends with birthday wishes over delicious champagne and hors d'œuvres, and spend a convivial hour chatting and laughing away like there is no tomorrow. 

With vegetables roasting in the oven, and the candles lit, we proceed to the dining room and begin our dinner. First course, soup.  But wait, something is amiss!  I've forgotten to set out the soup spoons. Yes, even with all the careful planning that is required to carry off such an enjoyable at-home-old-fashioned-sit-down-dinner-party, something invariably gets forgotten.  With minimal fuss, my mea culpa is swiftly put right, and after a good chuckle by all, we finally set about enjoying a most delectable dinner.

Photo: Chronica Domus

Throughout the evening, everyone exclaimed what a wonderful time they were having and how marvelous it was to spend such an agreeable evening in each other's delightful company.  It really was quite lovely.  After dinner, we retired to the drawing room for chocolates and more drinks, via a quick breather on the balcony to admire the night view and take in the fresh air.  It was just past midnight when our first friend took her leave of us, with promises of a reciprocal dinner soon.

I toddled off to bed around two o'clock in the morning, still high from the evening's merriment.  I had somehow mustered up the strength to wash all the silver and dishes before doing so. My dear old husband just couldn't take it any longer.  He retired an hour earlier, exhausted but happy.

The next morning, I slowly and gingerly tackled the remainder of the fallout.  Glasses, pots, and pans needed washing.  I performed my best impersonation of a scullery maid, hand-washing all of the antique glassware I enjoy using so much.  The English Regency champagne flutes looked so pretty lined up on the drainer.  I use my Irish linen glass cloths to dry those and the other wine glasses we used last night. They are the very best cloths available for wicking away moisture and, most importantly, are lint-free. Your glasses will be sparkling clean in no time.  I encourage you to invest in a handful of these useful little towels if you too assume the position of a scullery maid in your household.

Irish linen glass cloths make light work of drying one's beautiful glassware

Photo: Chronica Domus

Now, if only the task of removing dripping candle wax was as enjoyable.

The remains of an evening well spent
Photo: Chronica Domus

The scene around the dining room's candle sconces was just as piteous in the morning light.  Ah well, this is but a small price to pay for the honey colored light that sets a room aglow.

At least I still had these beauties to gaze upon, reminding me of our marvelous dinner party.  I can't wait to do it all again.

Photo: Chronica Domus

I do hope you enjoyed this post, and that you too might consider reviving the tradition of hosting an at-home-old-fashioned-sit-down-dinner-party in the not too distant future.  It really is a lot of fun.

Relics Reimagined: A Morandiesque Hanging Shelf

A rescued early-twentieth century spice rack has found new life as a hanging wall shelf corralling diminutive earthenware vessels à la Giorgio Morandi

(Please excuse my crooked photography. The hanging shelf is, in fact, mounted perfectly plumb)

Photo: Chronica Domus

There is a new addition to the stairwell, an area we consider a transitional space between the living quarters upstairs and the basement level leading to the garden.  I'm thrilled to bits with it.

I've been on the hunt these past few years for a simple hanging wall shelf and I finally located one just the other day while walking Mavro around the neighborhood early on a bright and sunny morn. It was lurking on the basement floor of a house up the hill from ours, and was sold to me for a mere three dollars at the family's tag sale. I wish I had taken a snap shot of it in its dusty and dirty state.  It was, quite frankly, a hideous mess. I'm sure the man who sold it to me thought me quite mad, of course. "Who in their right mind would want that?" I imagined was going through his mind as we exchanged shelf for dough. The wooden backing board had long ago been subjected to two crude holes, haphazardly off-set and not at all neatly centered as one might expect. Obviously, those required some attention.  A bit of patching and sanding was in order.  The remnant of thinly applied cream colored paint was still in evidence.  I believe the shelf once hung in the original 1920's era kitchen of the house in which I found it, and may have been used to hold tins of spices and seasonings. Despite the wall shelf's degraded appearance, it was still very sturdy and obviously well-made in its day by a carpenter, probably by the same hands that built the other cabinetry in the kitchen.  Ah, how one longs for the days before the dreaded flat-pack arrived on scene, killing the local carpenter.

With a gentle sanding and a lick or two of paint, I am now the proud owner of a practical and charming little hanging shelf that would very probably have met its death at the local dump had I not stepped in to rescue it. I think it looks perfectly lovely mounted on the wall of our stairwell, placed above the cache of traditional cleaning tools. Finally, a place for all my little earthenware vessels and flower scissors, making them easily accessible as I make my way back upstairs from the garden in readiness for arranging the little blooms I would have just gathered.  Oh, and I mustn't forget to mention the sweet little mochaware piggy bank, long-ago smashed to pieces and lovingly re-glued having been enjoyed by an excited child surely saving for a treasure. It looks quite content sharing real estate alongside the other diminutive items on the shelf.

Photo: Chronica Domus

After spending a bit of time fussing with the placement of all the objects, I stepped back to admire my handiwork.  I noticed the hanging shelf had taken on a Giorgio Morandiesque air in its composition. Would you not agree?

A still life by Giorgio Morandi

Source

Life imitates art

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Yet another still life by the artist
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A corner of Mr. Morandi's studio showing his collection of vessels which inspired the artist's oeuvre

Source

The next time you find an object that is destined for the landfill, do consider for a moment whether it may be something you could reimagine with a little elbow grease. You will not only be rewarded with a useful or decorative item for pennies on the dollar, but you will have also played your part as a green citizen of our planet.

Tell me, do you enjoy the benefits of open shelving in your house, or do you prefer to stash your items in cupboards behind closed doors?

Spring Cleaning: A Broom Cupboard Alternative

Natural bristle, lambswool, and feathers beautifully crafted into traditional cleaning tools lined up on Shaker pegs

Photo: Chronica Domus

With the onset of spring, and the crescendo of excited birdsong penetrating the azure skies outdoors, I am compelled to throw open the windows, let in the fresh air, and begin the ritual of spring cleaning. I may even join the birds and attempt a jaunty little tune of my own, but on second thought, I have the most dreadful singing voice and wouldn't want to frighten them all away with my ear-splitting pitch.

For years, I've been buying and using traditional and beautiful cleaning tools to help get my house and its contents "shipshape and Bristol fashion".  I love that expression and it was one I heard many times during my youth, uttered from the mouths of impatient schoolmistresses hastening us girls to put away equipment in the science laboratory, or on the playing field (hockey sticks anyone?) at the conclusion of our lessons.

My mother taught my sisters and I well.  Each Saturday morning, we would help her dust every surface of furniture with the aid of our little yellow dusting cloths, while she carefully attended to various ceramics and bibelots with feather duster and soft bristle brush in hand. The weekly routine of dusting not only taught us to care for our possessions, but it was a ritual that was strangely therapeutic and even gratifying. We reaped the benefits of our hard work instantly; a clean and orderly house to be enjoyed by all.

You will be hard pressed to find a neon-colored plastic-handled broom, brush, or cleaning gadget around here (vacuum cleaner excluded, of course).  No, I much prefer my tools to be made of natural materials, which are aesthetically pleasing to gaze upon, more environmentally friendly, and a joy to use.  I own both new and old tools (found in junk shops and the like), and whenever I travel, I am always on the lookout for them.  When in London last, I happened upon a wonderful shop called Labour and Wait, which afforded me the opportunity of adding a sturdy enamel dustpan and a soft natural bristle brush, both made in England, to my cache.

My classic English enamel dustpan and natural bristle brush are indispensable for ridding the floors of debris (and so much nicer to look at than the ubiquitous plastic variety)

Photo: Chronica Domus

This vintage horsehair Lietz brush, discovered in a junk shop, makes dusting woodwork child's play as it caresses each and every recess with ease

Photo: Chronica Domus

Last year, I purchased a fine German goat hair duster with a beautifully turned pear wood handle that I found among the offerings at Good Grey, a little jewel of a shop tucked away in one of Petaluma's historic buildings. The proprietress of Good Grey stocks her small mercantile with an array of attractive household goods that are both utilitarian and beautifully made.

Not only does this goat hair duster do a fine job of removing dust, it is also quite beautifully constructed - I adore the little black dot of contrasting hair which adds a certain flair to an otherwise utilitarian object

Photo: Chronica Domus

As with many older modestly-sized houses, and ours is no exception, closet space is very limited so our household does not enjoy the luxury of a dedicated broom cupboard in the proximity of our living quarters.  We are, however, fortunate to have a full basement at our disposal, but that is not an ideal place to keep cleaning tools that need to be hurriedly pressed into service when dried ingredients fall upon the kitchen floor, or whenever stray dog hairs are spotted lurking beneath the sofa that necessitate sweeping with alacrity.

An old-fashioned horsehair broom soon gets the wooden floors spick and span without scratching

Photo: Chronica Domus

With this in mind, I recently conceived of an exceedingly practical solution as to where I might best store my beautiful cleaning tools which had thus far been shamefully and unceremoniously crammed into the cupboard beneath my kitchen sink. If any of you are familiar with the simplicity and practicality of Shaker design, you will already know all about the genius of those humble little Shaker pegs.

A row of practical shaker pegs transforms an area of the back stairwell into a very useful space

Photo: Chronica Domus

My very handy husband attached seven evenly spaced pegs to the wooden railing atop the wainscoting by the kitchen door in the back stairwell leading to our basement. I procured a small quantity of brown leather lace and set to work threading it through the convenient pre-existing holes on the dustpan and brushes.

Brown leather lace is threaded through the handles of my cleaning tools allowing for hanging

Photo: Chronica Domus

For those tools, such as the horsehair broom, that did not possess a hole in their handle, one was quickly made using an electric drill. The brushes and dusters could now be hung neatly on their new pegs creating a well-ordered alternative to a broom cupboard, and one that was conveniently placed right beside my kitchen door.

An orderly solution to a broom cupboard with everything in its place and easily accessible

Photo: Chronica Domus

Now, the only item I've yet to find a home for is the horsehair broom, but it is such a beautiful object, it wouldn't look so out of place propped up against a wall would it?  One could not possibly say that about a ratty old neon-colored plastic broom.

I've found no better broom to whisk away dirt and dust than this horsehair model with a sufficiently long handle for ease of use, important to us taller ladies

Photo: Chronica Domus

We all need to dust away the odd cobweb from time to time, or sweep up an errant crumb, so why not join me in adding a little beauty to the home by forgoing the army of luridly colored, plastic-handled, synthetic bristle brushes and brooms and instead seek out traditionally made cleaning tools. Not only will you find them handsome to the eye, but they will outperform synthetic bristles and last for years.

Do you enjoy cleaning your home, spring or otherwise, or do you rely on domestic help?  Which tools do you find indispensable when it comes to the matter of dust-busting?

 Nota bene: I am neither paid nor do I receive recompense in exchange for applauding products or services within my blog.  I do so because I enjoy them.  If you are a kindred spirit, you too enjoy recommending nice things to fellow good eggs.

Relics Reimagined: A Sewing Kit

My sewing paraphernalia held in Granny's tole box

Photo: Chronica Domus

Oh dear, it finally happened last week.  While busily tapping away at my keyboard, I felt my trouser button abruptly give way, proof (as if any was needed) that all of the over-eating and idle inactivity of cooler winter days had finally caught up to my waistline. There was only one thing for it.  I needed to embark on a rigorous slenderization diet in order to shed the few creeping pounds that had settled rather uncomfortably around my middle.  Actually, there was one other thing I could do about this sorry tale, and that was to sew that button right back where it belongs.  This entire episode left me wondering, do people still keep a sewing kit at their disposal to cope with such pesky little clothing emergencies? Here is the story of how I came about securing mine while simultaneously creating yet another in the series on "Relics Reimagined".

When I was in my early twenties and still living in London, I would regularly visit my Granny Elizabeth. We'd sit and chat over cups of tea, or take gentle walks in her walled garden, and if I were visiting during the evening hours, I would be treated to one of her delicious dinners. Granny lived alone (by choice), so having company at dinner time was always a great treat for her.

On one of my visits, she gave me an empty metal tole box which she had owned for much of her life. I found the box attractive because of its deep blue color and sturdy hinged lid, and also because of the motif depicted on top, which rather reminded me of a spool of thread.  I could never quite identify what the central decoration depicted and had not a clue as to the origins of its contents.  I imagined it contained toffees or perhaps boiled sweets of some ilk and rather regretted not having asked her about it at the time. Alas, Granny is no longer with us, but the little box helps keep my memories of her alive.

Granny's little tole box, but what could it have held?

Photo: Chronica Domus

Recently, I found the empty box in the back of a drawer and was surprised I had not put it to good use. Granny loved to sew and was an expert seamstress.  She could knit and crochet too, which helped fill the many hours she spent at home while listening to the wireless.  Anything she made was accomplished with the highest degree of skill and always looked perfectly perfect upon completion. Her dexterity and sharpness of mind remained with her until her final days. Her attempts at teaching me to sew and knit as a young child, skills that, unfortunately, I've not used in decades, outside of rudimentary tasks such as sewing a button, were always prefaced with her mantra. I can still hear her steady voice at the commencement of each instruction uttering, "If you are going to all the bother of making something, make sure and do it right the first time".

In honor of Granny, I decided the best use for the little tole box would be to turn it into a small sewing kit, housing the paraphernalia that would allow me to mend a torn seam or sew a button onto a shirt with minimal fuss.  I wondered why I had not thought of this simple and practical idea before, shaking my head and rolling my eyes at my "eureka!" moment.  Up until then, I am somewhat embarrassed to admit, a shabby little resealable plastic bag had clumsily sufficed.  It was not a particularly practical solution I might add. After all, the bag was supposed to accommodate little sharp scissor blades and pointy needles. Ouch!  Dear Granny would have visibly blanched at the thought.

Granny would most certainly approve of my (new) vintage wooden needle case that safely corrals my sewing needles

Photo: Chronica Domus

A few reels of thread in the basic color palette of one's wardrobe, a selection of needles of various lengths and thicknesses, a thimble, a cloth tape measure, and a small scissor is all that one requires to put together a useful and indispensable sewing kit.

A few basic sewing implements ...

Photo: Chronica domus

...  now housed in Granny's tole tin

Photo: Chronica Domus

Not only is it a most satisfactory feeling to finally have a well-organized and safe place to store my sewing essentials, but I am now reminded of Granny Elizabeth each time I reach for my box, making it more of a pleasure than a chore whenever the need arises for a speedy clothing repair.  Besides, this is another wonderful demonstration of how a relic can be reimagined and made useful once more.

Last week, as I reached for my sewing kit to sew my trouser button back in place, I showed the box to my husband explaining that I had finally put Granny's box to good use.  He examined the lid's design and casually mentioned that it looked like a ship's capstan.  I quickly admitted my ignorance of such a contraption, which led him to explain that a capstan was a revolving spindle onto which rope was wound. While searching for an image of a ship's capstan on the internet to bolster his point, he made a surprising discovery.  It appeared that the capstan symbol was used by W.D. & H.O. Willis, a British tobacco importer who manufactured Capstan Navy Cut Cigarettes. The mystery of what Granny Elizabeth's tole box had long ago held was finally solved.

An early Capstan Navy Cut Cigarettes tin displaying the same motif as Granny's tole box

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Granny was a smoker in her formative years, which I believe at the time was considered quite a fashionable and glamorous pursuit in some sectors of society.  I remember my mother telling me that when she was a young girl and Granny lit up socially, it caused her great embarrassment. Apparently, not everyone considered smoking de rigueur, but rather a masculine and immoral practice.  The fact that Granny held on to her tole cigarette tin for so long might have been an indication of how much she enjoyed the experience of smoking.  Perhaps she was fond of offering her house guests a cigarette from such a discreet presentation box (notice the lack of wording on Granny's box which might have otherwise betrayed the contents within).

A stylish Katherine Hepburn showing women how it was done in the 1930's

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Do you have the benefit of a basic sewing kit at your disposal when little sewing emergencies present themselves?  If not I urge you the gather together a few sewing essentials so that you too will be kitted out to sew whenever the opportunity next presents itself.