Buried at the bottom of an old leather worn trunk, one who had been sorted through by many eager hands, trying to find the diamond in the haystack, or a rolled up toile of Monet's, or possible a missing manuscript of Voltaire, was this little tarnished box that was cramped in the corner, covered in dusty bits, left aside.
Whenever I see a crowd around a dealer's stand I know what it means: A chateau has fallen from the sky, the prices are good, the history of a place will be devoured in seconds by the hawks that flock and scoop.
I squeezed in, trying not to be trampled, nor trample, to give a quick look without being distracted by some unimportant thing and notice what nobody had seen. But alas, I am a sucker for that which is not of great value, often chipped, maybe peeling and more often than not something that has aged with grace and speaks to my imagination.
The little tarnished box that was cramped in the corner, covered in dusty bits, left aside was it.
I no longer try to understand, or reason with how or why I hunt for antiques. It doesn't matter. Attraction. Pleasure. Knowledge. Gift from another time. Caring for it until someone takes over.
I bent down and picked it up.
As it was tarnished beyond recognition, and covered in dusty bunnies you might ask what did I see in it?
I don't know, it was a feeling. A glimpse of something unique. I pulled my sweater over my finger and rubbed a spot clean. I could see it was silver, meticulously etched.
I reckoned that if it were a song I could dance to it. So I asked the dealer, "How much?"
He asked, "What do you have?"
I replied, "This." And held up the dusty covered trinket.
Due to the crowd. Due to the intensity of buying. Given that what I had held up was nothing much, and because when a chateau falls, it is full on and nobody dabbles for a dusty bunny pocket treasure except an amateur. The dealer didn't bother to give it, nor me a second look. A wave of his hand, he announced a bubble gum toy price.
Inside I smiled, yes! Outside I acted oblivious.
The French antique, 1800s, silver matchbox etched on three sides.
A young lady is at a party, most likely at her home. A side door leading outside opens. Her lover is there. She blushes, he steal a kiss to reassure her that it is more than just a moment. Her eyes look back at the party inside, remain innocent or taste that which is burning inside? She reaches for her silk shawl, the match flames.
Some other dealer might have found a Monet, or a Victor Hugo, or a Louis gilded something or other. I found a story, and read it to the car.
The winners of a pair of French antique monogrammed dinner napkins are:
Emily (The Hutch)
The Winners of an antique crystals with an image on it are:
Nancy in Solan Beach,
Patty Von Dorin,
Thank you all of you who read myblog, who participate on it, who encourage each other and make me what to do this every day! Thank you !!
As I said I am giving gifts away all week long in happiness of my birthday!
Tomorrow's giveway... a French antique cotton hand towel, plus an antique romantic image.
If you would like to be in the draw leave your response to this question in the comment section:
Tell me about your first kiss?