Antique-aholics Anonymous

I love antiques.  Since I was a teenager, I have been obsessed with vintage clothing, shoes, magazines, houses, furniture... everything!  When I was around fourteen year old, I started shopping in vintage clothing stores, and I drove my father crazy begging him to drive me to downtown Houston every weekend so I could peruse my favorite shops, "Wear It Again Sam" and "Mr Peabody's Way Back Machine."

There's something so exhilarating in rummaging through a pile of what my parents would call "junk," and coming out with a treasure... and at a bargain, to match!  Sometimes I think I literally have an addiction to shopping in flea markets and thrift stores - I just KNOW when I'm going to find something (it's like a sixth sense), my heart starts beating faster, and when I finally pull out the treasure, I get a surge of adrenaline that rushes through my body - it's a serious high.  

Unfortunately, now, the deals are not as good as they were 15 years ago (before vintage and recycled clothing became a huge trend), and a lot of the merchandise has been picked over.  It's still fun for me, though, and I never miss the opportunity to go to a flea market.  Lucky me - this weekend I got finally got to go to what has been called the best flea market in the US - Brimfield.

There were a lot of amazing items - I found some wonderful Victorian jet beaded trims:

a cut steel clasp:

cheap yet inspirational costume jewelry:

a pair of 1930s lace-up shoes:

a Vogue magazine from 1954:

I also found some vintage clothes (a 1940s sun dress, a 1960s Audrey Hepburn-like black linen shift, a green velour top from the 50s, and a silver lame belt from the 1920s) and two really amazing hats (one Victorian with a dramatic feather, the other a cute 1930s number).  I didn't find the vintage mannequin bust I was searching for, but those are pretty hard to come by, so I'm not too upset about it.  

Overall, it was a good trip, and I'm glad I went.  It wasn't nearly as scary as some of the flea markets I've been to in the South.  For example, I went to one in Virginia with my family, and my sister and dad got separated from my mother and me.  My sister sent me a text saying, "Where are you? We are near the guns, mullets, and confederate flags - come find us." Surprisingly (or maybe not), that didn't narrow down her location at all...

Cordoba

In my mind, Spain has alway been a tempestuous land of devastatingly handsome men and beautiful women dancing against the backdrop of a fiery red setting sun.  I think of guitars strumming in a staccato fashion, a flamenco dancer dramatically kicking up her skirt, a bullfighter gallantly waving his red cape as a crowd chants "ole!".  

There is something so unique about Southern Spain - the Moorish influence has mixed with the Catholic to create such a breath-taking spin on its architecture, food, and customs. 

entrance to the Cordoba Fair

The Great Mosque in Cordoba

In the Andalusian (I looove saying this... Andalusia, Andaluuusia!) cities of Sevilla and Cordoba, where flamenco was born, they celebrate the Semana Santa y Feria, right around the time of the Easter Holy Week.  Semana Santa became very popular in the 1920s, and I have a few vintage posters in my apartment that were used to promote it.  I love the aesthetic, the way the men proudly wear their boleros and cordobes (traditional hats), while the women are perfectly coiffed, in their ondulating flamenco dresses, intricately embroidered shawls, and dramatic fans.  

When I was in Spain a few years ago, I was so tempted to buy a flamenco dress, until I saw the price tag.  That, and the question of where I could possibly wear it, served as a deterrent.  I settled for a beautiful red embroidered shawl instead, but one day I will have my flamenco dress!

I suppose all of this imagery melded together in my mind when I created the Cordoba Collection.  Each piece is reminiscent of a flamenco dancer's fan, and the mix of bright vermillion, gold, and black is unmistakably Spanish.