When I was a girl, I was obsessed with decorating. I didn't know there was a career I could have forged from this love. All I know is that I arranged and re-arranged my room constantly from the time I was probably 7 or 8 years old. I brought leaves inside and put them in baskets (I couldn't afford accessories). I took my mother's porcelain figurines from the living room and hoarded them in my room. I wish someone told me I could study interior design. But being practical (and good at math and science), I went to university to study medicine (then it became engineering) instead.
I forgot about decorating. It wasn't until we bought our house 6 years ago that my love for decorating was rekindled. But when I look back at photos from my 20's and 30's, I see lots of evidence of my latent decorating love that I didn't even know had a label.
I remember the day I took this photo (in Paris, when I was 23 and doing grad studies there), like it was yesterday:
I remember I loved the mirror and the lamp and the little silver tray...I remember I wanted a life that was pretty like that.
I remember wondering when I would have enough money to buy pretty things (I was living on about $1000 a month, with $500 going out in rent for a Paris apartment I shared with 2 other girls).
I walked everywhere (the bus and metro were too expensive). I lived on fruit and day old baguettes just so I could afford to go to museums every weekend to look at art. I bought flowers for myself. I loved fashion but wore a lot of black (because you can survive on very few clothes if you wear all black). I took tons of pictures of beautiful things.
It is really quite interesting to look back at my photos (of flowers, shop windows, furniture, architecture) and realize that my one true love...beautiful things...was staring me in the face all the time.
I really must post more of these photos. It is shocking how many pictures I have of *things* I liked the look of...