A Vanity for a girl who can't sit still

If you ask me what do I remember most about the place I used to call home, a series of pictures, rumbling of noises and a rush of scents flash through my head.  That place inside my head feels so far away and at the same time, I feel if I stretch my arms long enough, I could almost touch it.  Sometimes when I close my eyes at night, I remember laughter under mango trees and the first of stars peeking through from the dark blue sky.  I smell the sweet smell of dusty earth making love to tumbling of monsoon rain.  There is always the loud beating of beautifully orchestrated rain on the tin roof.  If you again ask me what do I remember the most about home, I will tell you I remember my mother combing her long jet black hair in front of her vanity.  As a child, I would sit on the floor looking up at this beautiful creature and mesmerized by this simple act.  I still remember her vanity...all the curves and perfect imperfection of dents and scratches.  It has taken me thirty years to finally have a little vanity I could call my own.

It was a present from my grandmother and that alone makes this vanity very special for me.  Then there is the history of where it has been and where it will be.  This is the vanity before it found me.

It is gorgeous.  I thought about leaving it alone as is but what fun would that be for me?

Yes, I love gilded pieces.  I love the meeting of a time worn look with a faded glamour. I have to tell you I had a hard time trying to figure out what color to paint this vanity.  I knew it had to be somewhat muted because of everything else in the room but it still has to be one of a kind.  I wanted it to be very distressed so I used the newspaper rubbing method.  I painted the first coat with ASCP in cream then when it dried, I layered ASCP in Antoinette.  Why is Antoinette difficult to photograph?  If anyone has any tip, please let me know.

I am very happy with how it came out.  The girls are already fighting over it.  And every time I sit in front of the vanity, a flood of memories come rushing back.  Sometimes memories can get blurred by time and I find myself questioning if they're just long forgotten dreams.  I am also aware of the fact that our present moment and every moment we create will one day become memories.  Not just mine but my daughters' and they will all be bound together like a dusty old book.

  And one day perhaps, they too will talk about an old vanity with its faded roses and swirls of dusty pink and of their mom telling them stories of long ago dreams.


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