Like many of you, I draw inspiration from color. With the first formidable storm of the season upon the Pacific Northwest, I stocked up the pantry with D batteries, made some coffee, and settled in with my Nook. As much as I tried, however, I couldn’t manage to finish The Forgotten Waltz (by Anne Enright). My mind kept wandering.
This time of year, I’m fondly reminded of my grandmother. In school, I was several years behind my only sibling, an older brother. Many mornings, in the heavy fog or crisp Autumnal air, my mother would take me in her charge and lead me to my grandmother’s small cabin near the lake down the way. Her home was rather spartan. She had very little. The pieces she did have were of late 50’s early 60’s design, perfectly kept and gorgeous. All hardwoods, chromes. Silver, white, and an impossible snowy mint that was neither blue, nor green. It seemed as perfect and frozen as the world outside.
In the years that followed, the furniture was replaced with the bold, earthen tones and fabrics of the 70s. But, by then it was too late. The love I had for my grandmother and that special time I shared with her had been juxtaposed onto those colors, that furniture, of the late 50s and early 60s.
Crazy about early design from the 50s and 60s? Drench yourself in beauty at: Eames Design