I walked from Tony's downtown apartment to my house in North London this afternoon, and really got to examine the architecture and brilliance that old homes exude. The mixture of textiles: wood, stone, brick, stucco, iron, stained glass. The Victorian and Gothic revival style exteriors: ornate verge boarding, verandas, pillars. I love the climbing vines and gardens, all of which are well maintained and impeccably charming. As I walked under the tall, century old trees I found myself instinctively covering my head since it became such a habit while walking under palm trees in Central America (a staggering number of deaths are caused by falling coconuts). I found my mind wandering, imagining all the marvelous, unspoiled detailing inside, heavy woodwork on stair handrails and crown moulding, high ceilings, bay windows, exposed radiators, curved walls. These Victorian homes just seem so timeless, and I couldn't help but feel a little heavy-hearted since homes are just not built this way anymore. Sure, builders can claim to "take pride" in their work, but this pride is nowhere near equivalent to what it once was.
Similarly, I found a brilliant vintage Vivienne Westwood cardigan today, and could not be happier. It too, reminds me of the pride that craftspeople once took in their work; it is probably 30 years old, and is in mint condition.