We spent our first afternoon making the rounds at our favorite junky antique stores and I loaded the car with vases, old brass curtain rods, a general store paper roll, massive used flower books and two special little silk vintage things. This 1920s Erté-esque dress was hanging off the side of a cabinet covered by an unfortunate 50s prom dress and cost less than the price of a dozen doughnuts. The flowers were leftovers from a photoshoot earlier in the week that I brought up with us.
It wasn't until I got home that I realized my two favorite finds matched my two favorite arrangements. The little wrinkly peach silk blouse is of indeterminate vintage, but quite old and was found stuffed unceremoniously into a ziplock bag on a folding table at a multi-dealer mall. It needs a solid soaking but the metal-backed, faceted glass buttons alone could confirm a belief in god.
I clipped the columbine from along the stone wall where the foundation of Elmwood's barn once stood and the mauve lady slipper tucked in the center grows wild on the path through the woods. My dad wouldn't condone its cutting, some flowers are too special for mere mortals to possess. But I'm hopelessly mortal and can't stop myself biting that fruit every time.