|Victoria Magazine September 2018|
I have embarked on a new adventure ... having lived in the city, alone ... well, except for the couple of years that I lived with my sister, I have moved out to the suburbs to live with Mamasita, my mom. It is time to keep an eye on her and this is just of the ways of doing so in coordination with my other sister, who lives nearby.
When considering the move, I thought to myself, as one would, I need to buy new bedding. And I want luxurious, soft, comforting, entangling things so as to create an oasis of calm for moments when I can be quiet and pretend that I still live alone in the old apartment on a somewhat quiet street in the thick of it all. The comforter that I had been using was nearly 30 years old. Thirty years old, you may wonder. In a former life, when I worked at Marshall Field's and at the beginning of the Super Sunday era. Traditionally, the store on State Street was closed on Sundays and opened late, until 7 p.m., twice a week. When the doors opened on Sunday, the sales were phenomenal and the crowds were insane. When this started, I managed several home store departments. I would place sale merchandise on tables down the aisles and some customers would come by and buy everything on the table. We would clear out our stockrooms not so much with merchandise that was damaged or poor sellers, but one of a kinds and often luxury goods ... in the beginning. It was on one of these early Sundays when I found my first luxury comforter set. It was from an Australian vendor that the department didn't stock ... sometimes buyers, who still worked in the building, would sell off samples on Super Sunday. As the years went on, the comforter became softer and finer than when I first put it on my bed. I was tempted many times to replace it because it was so old and a few times, a duvet covered it. But I created a story for it ... a great textile in a great house would lie on a bed for a century. What would possess me to replace this one. Of course, in reality, mine was just an old bedspread in a worn vintage apartment in an American city, not a great estate in the Cotswolds.
Sadly, Marshall Field's is gone. But I committed myself to finding the most luxurious bedding that money could buy, which, I might add, is no easy feat in the age of Amazon. But I found it ... in reality, I found layers of it ... sheets, blanket, pillows ... even a new mattress pad. And in going to paint, to layer the look even more, I found where the roof leak snuck in ... my bedroom ceiling. And so in warped speed, I have been quickly brought up to speed of what it means to be a homeowner. I'm not sure about it, but I've no other choice. It is insane how complicated it is to find someone to do the work. Angel came to me via a family connection. He's in there now cutting out the drywall and doing what he does. My linens, I imagine, are peeking out of their bags around the corner wondering if they are every going to get out of their plastic and on to the mattress.
Soon, luxury, soon.