Jenyfer Matthews

I’ve always liked old things. If I have a choice between a set of new dishes or a mismatched set of old stoneware, the old stoneware is very likely going to win. (Remember that groovy mug I bought last summer? It gets used regularly) I prefer old jewelry styles too – I’ve adopted several of my mother’s cast-off chains circa-1970s and adore a chain belt that I got from my grandmother (circa 1950s? 1960s?)

A few months ago, an acquaintance here in Egypt was clearing out in preparation for moving. One of the things he was getting rid of was a hand embroidered linen tablecloth his mother made. The last thing I need with two small children in the house is a white linen tablecloth, but I couldn’t let him give it to just anyone. Aside from the fact that as a crafter myself I couldn’t bear for that much hand work to go unappreciated, there’s something about old things that just speak to me.

My love of old things might explain in part why I love trolling thrift stores so much. I was pretty thrilled this summer when I found an “antique” crank cookie gun at a local thrift store in addition to a set of tiny cut glass salt and pepper shakers. I seem to have a thing for salt and pepper shakers – only after I bought these did I recall I have another set packed away in storage, having bought them years before at another thrift store in Ohio. I never thought that I’d be the sort of person to collect salt shakers, but using them gives me pleasure. They are so much more satisfying than the ordinary ceramic ones that came with our plain white dishes.

Part of that satisfaction may be that each of these items has a story to tell – who had them before they came into my hands? Were they every day objects or were they kept in a cupboard, only brought out for special occasions? How did they end up in the thrift store where I found them? The echoes of these stories stimulate my imagination.

That’s a pretty good deal for a couple of dollars.