Second Hand Clothing Dealer
Are you watching Downton Abbey? Most of us are enjoying a glimpse into the aristocratic lives of our favorite characters in season three, while the downstairs staff intrigue us with their style of living.
Charles was born 200 years ago. To celebrate, San Francisco presented a bicentennial Dickens fair at the Cow Palace. We interacted with sailors on the London docks, ragpickers in the stews and alleyways, and junk dealers with dented silver from the swells.
My favorite characters were the chimney sweeps, filthy in black clothing, who handed out gold coins for luck (with a picture of Thomas Jefferson on one side and George Washington on the other. Go figure.)
Professional singers and actors and real shops with period merchandise for sale enchanted our senses and brought us a sense of belonging to another time.
Why the craze for all thing English right now? Do you know? And why was the London pickpocket texting on his smart phone?
We’ve met with our architect and reviewed the house plan. How did the square footage get away from us? At the rate we’re going, we’ll end up with the Taj Mahal if we’re not careful. But if we cut footage, then there’s no room for this, can’t have that. Decisions, decisions.
We’re thinking of livability, construction costs, and that awful phrase … property taxes.
And come to think of it, how did we collect so much stuff? And why does it take on such sentiment when it’s a family piece?
Would my grandmother tell me to keep her stuff or pitch it? She was the soul of practicality, but then she had to be. She homesteaded in the Wyoming sagebrush.
So we’re back to the drawing board. Trying to redesign a plan that includes everything we need, but in a tighter footprint.
I understand cutting words. I edit my novels, keeping it tight, highlighting the real meaning.
So how do you edit square footage and still include the essentials? Does anybody have any advice? What do we do now?