Authentically Beat Up

Authentically Beat Up Place in U.P.

I've been skulling around the last couple of weeks looking for a piece of wood to hold my record player, records and very small screen t.v.  It's been pleasant, because I can take plenty of time, once I choose to go looking.

I've been to a few nice furniture stores.  They're always expensive.  The furniture tends to be massive and has a certain kind of "style" put out there.  I took honest looks at what the stores had to offer, measured and try to "picture" various pieces taking up a small place in my apartment.  

I did find a slanted wall piece.  It stood about eight feet high with the bottom shelf the largest.  As each of the six shelves continued to slant toward the wall they became smaller.  It had cool metal frames and rustic looking shelves.  It started at $800.  The price didn't include the $99 for assembly and delivery.  I told the saleslady, "My brother can put it together and bolt it to the wall.  I won't pay the extra $100."  I decided not to purchase it. I got a personal call from the saleslady the next day.  She informed me the shelves were discontinued and they could lower the price by $200.  By that time, I had already looked at a few antique stores.  

I feel more comfortable with old, authentically-beat-up-furniture than new, fake-beat-up-furniture.  The wood is usually from the United States and not taken from rainforest.  Oak, maple, cherry, pine.  Sometimes, more than one type of wood in one piece.  I love the corner pieces.  They look sharp, delicate and practical.  The only problem is the thirteen inches I needed for depth, only went for about eight inches across the pieces and got smaller and smaller. Thirteen, twelve, eleven.....not good for setting a record player on. 

My Authentically Beat Up Classroom Desk

I found a couple of cool, antique chairs with wide arm rests that I gave some thought to.  I had to walk away.  I saw myself taking off the seat cushion, building a platform for the record player and finding an old box on the bottom to put my records. Three steps.  I didn't need to continue with that train of thought.  I'm not a carpenter, I don't need to spend weeks making something work (and it looking like crap), when I can keep searching.

Today, I woke up to pouring rain.  I was finished with my physical therapy/walk by 9 o'clock.  Kiwanis came with their truck and picked up a few items I was donating.  I got a call from a voice teacher I scheduled to meet today.  She had to cancel our lesson because she had a stomach virus.  I decided I wasn't going to watch the windows drip with rain.  I was going to look up a few more antique places on-line and head out for adventure.  

When I say "adventure" I mean it.  I get a lot of imagination stimulation when I go into an antique store.  I can tune out everyone around me and wander and think.  Stories, people and eras begin to transpire and I leave the present.  No one follows me around and explains each and every piece. (it would be impossible, usually those places are crammed with items)

I went to Kerrytown, in Ann Arbor, to a place called Treasure Mart.  Three floor of antiques.  I saw how busy it was, when I tried to get a parking place within the block.  I found some good prospects for my apartment.  I spent two hours going in and out of rooms, up and down the stairs.  But, I kept coming back to this small, delicate-looking, washer stand.  I measured, "pictured" and bought it.  The mirror was still on it. (many of them I've seen just have the frame left) It has three small drawers and one small cabinet to fit some of my records.  $150.  No one has to install, deliver or bolt it to my apartment wall.

Record Player Fits Nicely

I have to admit, I also "pictured" my collection of hand-blown, Turkish beads, hanging from the little towel rack by the mirror, reflecting the light off the mirror.  I almost bought an old brass, floor lamp, too.  Lamps will have to wait their turn.  The record player comes first.

I'm at Mighty Good Coffee writing, while drinking chai, (surprisingly, deliciously spicy) and listening to Lena Horn coming from their speakers.   Maggie is behind the counter washing cups.  She's being sweet, in her not-to-sweet way.  I thought I'd write and post this before I head home.  Before I struggle to get my new-old purchase up three flights of stairs, to my apartment.  I won't be able to rest until I get everything in place.

Oh, I did buy an old,  St. Patrick's Day postcard.  Postcards don't take up much room.  I justified the purchase.  I'll take some pictures and add them to my post before I go to bed.  Thanks for reading.

New, Old Postcad

Old Blue Truck in St. Ignace Near Evergreen Shores
(Authentically Beat-Up)