I often think that my love of vintage goods, and my curiosity for unique and discarded items started in childhood when I found a Barbie head in perfect condition on the curb near our apartment. I was “fresh off the boat,” having recently arrived here from Peru. I couldn’t believe my good fortune. Naturally, the Barbie went home with me where she was scrubbed with a little Fantastik (my mother’s favorite cleaning product). I gave Barbie numerous hairstyles and makeovers, until I became a teenager, and was no longer interested in dolls.
But as it turns out, my passion for vintage treasures began in early childhood. Growing up in Peru, my parents had some unique things that they would talk about with great pride. One was a very old and heavy accordion, which I loved and used as a toy piano. There was also a mask (not sure if it was old) that was a work of art. Very colorful and terrifying, the mask depicted an evil creature with horns. It’s part of a costume that was used during a carnival celebration. Frightened doesn’t begin to describe how I felt about the mask.
Probably the most bizarre–yes bizarre–and priceless possession that my parents had was a huaco, which is a pre-Inca vessel. Once upon a time, grave thieves would dig through ancient burial sites to find these archeological treasures. Similarly, it appears that farmers also found huacos working in the fields. It wasn’t uncommon to see huacos in people’s homes and businesses. Some had impressive collections. As a child, I was fascinated by the depictions, some of which were probably not suitable for children’s viewing. It’s wonderful to think that way before museums were curating these pieces, regular people were preserving them for no other purpose than to decorate, and for some people to connect with their past, perhaps.
I don’t think the practice of digging for huacos continues today. What I do know is that the last time I was in Peru, which was around 1998, I had bought a few reproductions as souvenirs to bring back with me to Massachusetts. Airport officials tested my faux huacos (I think they scraped them) to make sure I was not smuggling the authentic Peruvian artifacts. That would have been interesting!
My parents also had lots of books. One was a beautifully illustrated copy of Don Quixote, which my sister still has today. I inherited my mother’s 1960’s autographed collection of “La Literatura Peruana” (Peruvian Literature) by Dr. Luis Alberto Sanchez. The author was a famous literary and political figure in Peru. He was three times provost of the University of San Marcos, the oldest university in the Americas, and held several political posts throughout his lifetime.
With every move that my parents made, across cities and countries, the books are the only items that survived. But my memory of all their treasures still remains vivid today.
Almost in direct opposition to my parents’ valuables, were my grandmother Victoria’s belongings. My grandmother had two things I was fascinated with: her Singer treadle sewing machine and a very ornate armoire. Her vintage sewing machine had a heavy cast iron base and a lovely dark stained cabinet. My grandmother would repurpose bed sheets into pillowcases and sew other things that were used around her house. She was clever and practical, and I loved this about her!
Her Victorian-era armoire held—under lock and key—all of her personal treasures: perfume bottles, hair combs, jewelry and delicates. On the rare occasion that I was in her room when she would unlock it, I would try to take a peek at what was inside of it. It was dark. So I couldn’t see much. My grandmother would quickly pick 2 hair combs for her wavy jet black hair, spray some perfume and the armoire would be locked again. Where my parents thought it was fine for us to play with their treasures, my grandmother was very clear that the armoire was off limits.
I think when people are uprooted from their country or place of birth, and belongings get lost or broken along the way, our minds have a way of connecting those early memories to things in our current environment. But we also evolve and adapt, and in my case, end up growing up in a totally different country with a melting pot of cultures that have influenced my interests.
When my family moved from Peru to New Jersey, my mother and I discovered thrift shops. As a teenager, I used to like wearing vintage clothing and jewelry that I found rummaging through dusty piles. Then in my early 20’s, when I was on my own living in New York City, I discovered antique stores. And the rest is history.
To surround oneself with old things, whether they are inherited from family or purchased at antiques stores, is both a wonderful hobby, and also a very practical and often economical way of furnishing and decorating a home. Every item, even the most utilitarian one, has a history. Like the Peruvian huacos, they tell a story about our ancestors, our past, and our customs, and help us grow new roots wherever we settle.
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If you’re interested in antiquing around New England, you may want to read the following article that was published in the Sunday Boston Globe on 7/5/15. Shabby Chica at the The Wrentham Country Store is quoted and featured in the photo with the beach sign.
Chica Chronicles 