I stumbled across this rather tacky wall hanging the other day at a garage sale.
It was late in the morning, and the heat was quickly approaching an intolerable level. I’d put this particular sale at the bottom of my agenda, with far superior residences listed above it. As I pulled up, I almost didn’t exit the cooled luxury of my air conditioned car. Nothing drew my attention from curbside. But I made a fatal mistake. I made eye contact with the owner, and I could see from her glance that she was desperate for a sale. Adrift in a sea of crushed velvet and faux leather, a large “carved” plastic wall hanging drew my interest. and before I could defend myself, the lady bore in for a sale. It had proudly adorned the foyer of her grandmother’s house…it was her treasured possession…my heart sank as she drawled on and on. The sweat tricked down my back as I stood in the burning sun. How was I to extricate myself from this full-strength sales pitch? Then the great-grand-daughter came to my rescue: “Mother, she doesn’t want that piece of #@&%! It’s plastic, it’s tacky, and what would she do with it?” Well, by this time, I’d had a chance to consider that very question at length. I had begun to hatch a plan… And with the object now significantly devalued, I reached for my wallet. Even I was a little disappointed with its meager contents. The great-grand-daughter, seeing her opportunity, declared she’d take any price to be part with it, and I offered all that I had: $1 Great-Grandmother’s tacky treasure was mine for a solitary greenback. Shall we glance it once again:
“WHAT are you doing with THAT?” was not uttered by the teenagers as I unloaded my car, but it was more than evident in their faces…
It took a few days to draw the courage to tackle the challenge. I coated it with my new favorite paint medium: black chalk paint. It looked like a tacky-plastic-treasure painted black. It was not going to be simple to conform this to my vision. So I scoured the house for some inspiration. This aged door pull came to my rescue:
I whipped up different hues from my ever-expanding collection of Behr sample pots, trying out multiple layers of paints and glazes,
sanded a little here and there,
added more color…and tried two different products to give just the soft finish I was after.
And Great-Grandmother’s treasured possession now graces our home too.
I wonder if some day, many years from now…will there be a garage sale at my place? Will a great-grand-daughter look with disgust on my treasures and sell them for a song? Probably. Who cares?! I’ll be long gone, and I will have enjoyed them while I could.