As I cruised the aisles of my sixth antique store in just under two hours, I paused for a moment to reflect on exactly what it was I sought in a vase for my end table. Wandering in hopes something would slap my cheek and say “buy me” just wasn’t cutting it. Was I looking for a quality piece — something I could leave for my mid-century modern daughters to sell back to the store after I croaked? Or maybe I wanted something functional — something that could actually hold a handful of blossoms without piddling all over the beautiful wood of my table.
A warm glow bathed the room as the universe smiled and gave me the answer I sought: pretty. That’s it. I just wanted something beautiful — and I didn’t want to have to invest too much in it. Yup, I decided, I wanted pretty and cheap .
I felt so…male.