Treasure Hunting A Shutter for Coastal Vintage Beachy Style

Well, I know I have been promising to show you all sorts of stuff on this little corner of the interwebs, there’s been a slight problem though, meaning the three herberts, who also go by the name of my offspring have meant that my life has been way too busy to sit around taking pictures of vintage things lately…but finally this week with school holidays, less schedules and less taxi driving I have found some foofing time…and so here we have a vintage treasure, an old vintage shutter that came into my life…oh my, there’s a rumour it’s French!

I tell you one thing, it’s extremely heavy, it’s made with love, it comes with love, I have showered it with love…they do not make them like this any more my friends. The same may be said for forty-is-the-new-thirty English women who migrate to Australia with their upper arms very much in evidence.

I’ve had a LOT of finds recently, I’m going to pop one in the Newsletter this week (no, no more shoes) so watch out you won’t believe it…

I must say the thrifting gods like me a lot at the moment, like really really really a lot, I just keep coming upon stuff, or perhaps it is coming upon me? This morning I found a table…and I bought a table…and I now have the table in the house…I have stroked the table…the residents of this old cottage all replied when I told them of my latest mahusive beautiful farmhouse treasure, on four different occasions (didn’t ask Barls) and separately to each other, errrm what about the other two dining tables under the house, not including the one on the deck and the one actually in the dining room, and the old schoolhouse trestle table? Irrelevant I replied to all four. Though to the older one of the quartet I said you are lucky, very very very lucky, it’s not designer handbags I lust after.

So, yeah, while other women strut their stuff in the latest Jimmy Choos, hook a little Prada over their arm and grace themselves with Hermes, I chuck filthy old vintage shutters into the back of my car and drive home through the beaches turning up Dexy’s Midnight Runners Come on Eileen, belt the tune out like a pro, fist pumping passing tradies and thinking of England.

Good day to one and all

S

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