>One of my dreams in life is to buy a house uptown (or downtown). I want to live in a house where I can walk to a coffee shop, a fancy cooking store or a bead and/or yarn store. Said dream house will also be old so I have an excuse to completely gut and renovate the whole thing.
I can’t get enough of arched doors, hardwood floors, deep windowsills, slanted ceilings, nooks and crannies, wide molding and crystal doorknobs. I love all of these things, but in conjunction with newly renovated things. New and old, hanging out in one awesome house. Until a few months ago, I didn’t realize some people have issues with the last item on my list. Apparently some think crystal doorknobs are tacky and gross. If you are one of those people, let me prove you wrong.
Crystal doorknobs are indeed phenomenal. They are not boring metal. They are not boring spheres or levers. They give a plain door a little bit of glamour. It catches your eye ever so slightly. When the door is closed, it hints that there is something special beyond the door. It’s like a subtle little announcement to the room, but only the observant will pick up on it. “Psst! Hey you! This room you are about to enter is gorgeous!”
I’m not insisting I replace every doorknob with a crystal one, in fact I am saying quite the opposite. The beauty of this knob is that it’s unique and shouldn’t be on every door in the house. It could be used on a bedroom door. Or maybe a sweet little powder room. Or a den that houses a shiny black baby grand piano (be still my beating heart!). Maybe on a front door like at my friend Annie’s house. Or to the bedroom of a little princess. It adds just a little bit of sparkle to a normally plain place.
Everything does not always have to be new and fancy. Notice the beauty of the old every now and then. It doesn’t have to take over. In fact, something speaks louder when it is understated and simple. Like when I wear my Great Grandma’s engagement ring. It’s old, it’s gorgeous and I love it, but I wouldn’t deck myself in only grandma things. It would be overwhelming and bizarre. Imagine me traipsing about life wearing a large broach, floral scarf, ruffly blouse and entirely beige running shoes. It would be weird. But just a little hint of the English woman who used to shake her cane at the TV while she watched wrestling on Sunday afternoons?
Now that’s beautiful.