As a child, I remember spending hours and hours waiting while my parents shopped for antique furniture. They used to bribe me with Famous Five novels, but those books had no chance of lasting long enough for my speedy eyes and their lengthy negotiations. As I sat in dark corners illicitly popping bubble wrap, I had no idea why they found a boring old, ugly wooden table so interesting.
Fast forward 30 years. Now that I have an apartment of my own, I can finally say this: Mom, Dad, I get it.
So far, my scourings have yielded a set of Thonet café chairs, various digestif glasses, a gilt-framed mirror, and an Art Deco lamp. Oh, and these dishes. A mismatched set of dessert, dinner and soup plates. I plan to add to them until I have a full service of dishware in different patterns.