What I bought knowing I'd have to move it.
Soon...very soon.
This time three weeks ago I was packing my belongings into cardboard boxes—wrapping glasses and dishes between towels, stacking books, and tucking my many, many candelabras into bubble wrap pouches—thinking I’d unwrap them in the following days. But, as I mentioned in my dispatch two weeks ago, my move had to be postponed. Spending this little bit of time without my art and tchotchkes has reminded me how how impactful our surroundings are on our energy.
I only have one candelabra out. I’m basically camping.
Not to be without a degree of glamour but also steadfast in my refusal to unpack anything other than the bare necessities (my art supplies and hairdryer), I became a magnet for truly exceptional finds that couldn’t be left behind. Here’s what I bought in and around The Pause:
One 3 foot tall brass floor candelabra from 1830 Vintage.
This is possibly the most egregious purchase because it happened before the Great Moving Pause of 2021. It was a rainy Saturday morning and my dear friend Rachel and I had just grabbed So’s Your Mom breakfast sandwiches before going to help our friend Steph move. We ducked into 1830 Vintage across the street, and there she was. A candelabra the size of a small child. Brass, defiant, vaguely church-y and very groovy. The tag said “sold.” I was dismayed but glad I wouldn’t have to mentally wrastle the decision to bring home something large and decorative 6 days before I had friends and family giving their hands and time to move everything I own. “The buyer never picked that up, it’s yours if you want it,” the shop owner, Greg, told me. I wanted it.
I carried it around with me for the rest of the day like a lost acolyte, including to my friend’s move. I don’t think Emily Post ever covered moving etiquette, but I think showing up to a move with more stuff is probably a faux pas. Sorry, Steph!
One Venetian mirror from Goodwood.
This one wanted to live with me. Goodwood posts their vintage furniture finds on Instagram, and the post for this mirror caused quite a stir. Several people tried to claim it in the comments, but you can’t “claim” things on their Instagram. You have to call and pay for the item or go to the store. Several days later, I popped into the store since Rachel—who is involved in the acquisition of most of these items, I’m realizing—and I had attended a secondhand market popup nearby. The mirror was still there. I took this as a sign that it was mine. This piece is truly exceptional, and I’ll probably dedicate a whole newsletter to the Venetian style of decorative objects in its honor. Once again, I had to haul my find with me over several hours and miles, which I gladly accepted as my Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner-esque burden. At least my albatrosses are chic.
One curio cabinet plant stand handmade by “someone.”
I was on my way to help Rachel organize her space when I saw series of neon yellow signs on the streetlamps of Connecticut Ave NW. An alley sale (like a garage sale but urban!) was being held at that moment. Luckily I was in route to the most understanding friend when it comes to thrift shopping, so I made a detour to the back alley of one of the most beautiful streets in Woodley Park. Nothing caught my eye until the very end of the alley, where a husband and wife pair had lain out a smattering of furniture and books. I zeroed in on the small curio cabinet, which the husband, Peter, told me unprompted that he was unwilling to negotiate the price of because “someone made it.” I understood.
This cabinet is excellent. The construction is hearty, the height is ideal for keeping a plant beyond the reach of kitty paws, and I can put small delights on the shelves.
This is technically a twofer, because Peter also gave me a copy of Katharine Graham’s autobiography. I am not counting the book as its own entity because what is one more book, really, in the grand scheme of things?
One steamer pot and one Tchaikovsky vinyl record from a dead man.
My former roommate and current (last I checked) dear friend Stacey and I met at an estate sale in her neighborhood early last Thursday morning. As a person who has managed to skate by on other people’s kitchen supplies her entire life, my strategy for stocking my next kitchen is to scavenge from the nice houses in DC that hold estate sales. This time I was hoping for flatware, but I came away with a steamer pot and a record. I would’ve loved to meet this man whose belongings I now own. From his books and home you could tell he lived alone, was gay, loved the opera, and had dogs, alcoholism, and good taste. The home was giant and stunningly appointed. Half the fun of estate sales is getting to wander the house. To find them in your area, visit www.estatesales.net. I have the email alerts set up for anything within 5 miles of my zip code.
One leather and vintage milk glass hanging planter.
One of my favorite little details of my next apartment is the set of plant hooks already installed in a set of room-dividing window panes. When I saw this leather and vintage glass hanging planter by Haus of Jung at Femme Fatale yesterday, I knew it had to live on one of those hooks. I’ve already planted pothos propagations in it, and it will be the first piece I put in the new apartment. I wouldn’t have found it if I hadn’t had this moving pause, so it’s going to serve as a reminder of the cool things that can come out of inconveniences.
I will spare you the personal essay on the meaning of things. Stuff matters until it doesn’t. It colors our days until it’s in a box on the side of the road or lain out and priced for strangers to peruse. Stuff is energy, entertainment, memory, and meaning. It isn’t who we are, but it’s certainly an expression of who we are.
Feeling deeply that these things I purchased were worth moving set a new bar for me when it comes to consuming. That is the level I want to love or need an item in order to buy it. This is a prime example of the “conscious consumption” aspect of Zhuzh. Eventually, I want to help other people find their version of these items, things they’d be happy to move again and again. Do you have an item you’ll move with glee til the end of time? Tell me about it.
Until next week,
Elizabeth
This newsletter is just one facet of Zhuzh, my platform dedicated to conscious consumption and making space for delight. I offer secondhand-and-vintage-based wardrobe and interior styling services, art curation, and super chill life coaching. Keep up with me on Instagram and learn more at www.zhuzhlife.com.