Disco steps update and my affection for mirrors {collecting, treasure}

I remember my early fascination with bevelled edged mirrors. There was a giant one on the wall at my grandparents house, a sweet country town famous for its cheese.

The mirror seemed enormous to me, and I wasn’t entirely sure it wasn’t the old back window from my Pop’s EK Holden, treated with silver paint.

It was foreign and very ‘granny-like’ and helped form my appreciation of all things old, rusty and lived-in. I realised  my Nana  and all of her sisters, in this same small town had these mirrors, or similar variations in their home. (Along with pretty coloured hair.)

I belonged in a house with an artist mother and conservative/gardening  father. They had their own taste, and bevelled edged mirrors didn’t have a place in our childhood home. They were decorating in the seventies, with huge colourful printed curtains (in hot pink, red and orange), sculptures, paintings bought from galleries, and huge carved elephants brought from Southern Asia. I believe sheepskin may have been peaking at this time too.

My grandparents died, and the Great-aunts did too. I don’t know where everything went. The mirrors, the aluminium canisters, the heavy club lounges, the chenille bed spreads… Everything did go, probably to the dump or Second Hand shops in the little town.

Anyway, I grew up, left home. I moved to Sydney. I only knew a handful of people. I had to find a new way to spend my weekends. I found Second Hand shopping. I was amazed at what I discovered. My love of treasure hunting soon overtook my weekends. I found a sweet small mirror with bevelled edges. I was naturally drawn to it, without explanation.

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Then came more. One by one. Its not about admiring my own reflection, nothing to do with vanity.

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I do love the way they reflect my garden. Bringing the outside in.

Along with bevelled edged mirrors, I collect any lovely piece that ‘speaks’ to me.

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The crustier, the better.

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Big mirrors, little mirrors…

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Old wardrobe doors with brass handles, make lovely full length mirrors.

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Eighteen years later, and five homes later,  they keep finding me. Garage sales at little coastal towns. Charity shops in my city. Birthday gifts from people who know me well. A lady at a little town Antique shop keeps them aside for me. Now I have…many.

So, what is responsible for this, may I ask?

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I’m not sure.  But I love these stairs.  I love mirror, I like shiny things.

I still have 2 steps left to glue – and wee bits to touch up.

More to come…

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The front steps needed disco {treasure, making}

A mirror broke. I didn’t do it. A paint tin did. No bad luck for me.

I make the very most of situations such as this one, as you see. I contemplated a design of my own, but in such a prominent position, I didn’t want to start using the back gate in order to avoid using the front stairs. (What I mean is, I didn’t want to *sigh* or *cringe* every time I arrived home, because my skills & ideals of coolness have changed.) So, I turn to disco – as we all should.

One step down, seven to go.

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