The Old Renewed |

Last Sunday, Michelle and I went to a local used clothing and furniture store in search of a new lamp. After spending close to an hour in this congested space hidden down a quiet Brooklyn block, a part of me was itching to leave. The space felt too constricted. The air seemed leaden by musty, old, and familiar smells.

While we meandered through each clogged aisle in search of the elusive light, I realized how uncomfortable I felt being in such spaces.

As Michelle asked my opinion on various housewares, I shot down any selection if the use was too heavy, the scratch too deep, the rim too dented, the border too soiled.

The object had to look as if it had never been used . The object had to appear new in my eyes.

I guess I had grown accustomed to the new, the current, the shiny thing on full window display. I guess I am the same as my Mom. When my parents moved into their first brand new home more than 20 years ago, my Mom insisted that we get new housewares and furniture to fill every newly built corner of the house. Everything that we used was discarded – carted away to Purple Hearts & The Salvation Army . In my childhood, I grew up living in rented apartments and leased homes. I always lived in a spaces already used by another in a previous life. As I grew accustomed to all things new, I developed an aversion to things that had been used by others. Objects or abodes where the previous owner left his/her mark either by simple wear and tear – a scratch, a dent, a hole – were not the ones that I was drawn too. I desired a clean slate – new history rather than a continued history. In many instances, I associated used with dirty when I was a child.

In my family, I occupied the enviable position as the eldest child. Whenever clothes were bought for a new school year, I received a finely pressed wardrobe with the pricetags intact. Whenever I outgrew a piece of clothing, I would hand it down to my little brother. Everything that my little brother wore was not a hand-me-down, but he had no qualms using something that I once owned. He was a better man than me.

In time, I’ve learned that new things fall apart rather easily. The new chair, coffee table, and lamp that looked priceless in that modern showroom did not last more than 3 years. It’s as if the creation of the new was merely something to use temporarily - something disposable to discard in a years time to buy something new from the same seller (read: IKEA). An object built with an expiration date.

In time, I’ve learned that the objects of old that were discarded were never meant to be tossed. They were meant to last. They arose out of meticulous construction and care. They were built out of sturdy and hardy materials. They were not made to closely mirror the ever-evolving trends of our time. They were made to be timeless – to be passed on to another generation. Funny how the dresser built in a bygone era stays intact and remains sound (with a scratch here and there), yet the IKEA dresser bought less than two years ago falls apart.

We ended up not finding a lamp, but we left the vintage store with a ‘new’ bamboo chair and end table in tow. When those two purchases were laid in place in the apartment, they just seemed to fit better than our newer furniture. Michelle has a better eye than me, so she saw something that I did not see while we were in the store. A special type of alchemy comes into play when you are able to transform the old, discarded relic and transform it into something new - renewed.