Not Fully Cooked: Collecting a Color

Growing up, I lived in what I considered a well decorated home. It was eclectic with traditional roots. Antiques mixed with new furniture, fantastic original artwork and cherished collectibles, carefully culled and exchanged for cash from a variety of flea markets and antique shops over many years. There was a theme and I lived within its backdrop every day. Like the blue willow platter pictured here, my house was filled with all manner of blue and white: Delft from Holland, Blue Onion from Germany, and Blue Willow from England. It didn't end there. Our trim and fireplace were painted blue, our best couch was upholstered in cobalt velvet and our bedspreads were, you guessed it, blue and white. To me, it was a beautiful whole-house collection and most importantly, it provided joy for my mother in every direction.

Since I inherited quite a few of her treasures (like the platter), it didn't occur to me for many years that I longed for a collection of my own. Easier said than done. My mind went to the clichés so often, I pictured a house filled with kitsch in the form of out-of-work salt and pepper shakers, cookie jars and sequestered demi spoons. Not having a collection bugged me and I labored over what it would be until one day... While leafing through one of the many magazines I saved beyond their prime, I read an article about 19th century French blue opaline. So gorgeous! These opaque turquoise hand-blown beauties had found a new fan. I began on ebay, sniping my modest finds at the last minute, for less than twenty dollars each. After acquiring a few pieces, I arranged them together on the mantel shelf. Lovely. Then it happened. I began lingering over ANYTHING colored in that inspired turquoise hue, no matter what it was: a pendant, book cover or swimsuit. I fell in love with blue opaline, yes, but I also fell hard for nearly every object that shared its color. Mission accomplished!