Let me tell you a sad, sad story of the one worst moving-purges I've ever done (I promise, there's a happy end!). When I lived with my mom I had a pretty 60s teak writing desk. It was a perfect size, 80x120 cm, easily de-constructed for storage or transport and with two small drawers at one side, making it perfect to sew at since you could easily have two machines next to each other. However, this was before I fell in love with vintage, when 60s teak was just quaint, and before I started sewing on such an everyday basis or owned two sewing machines. But I did love the desk, and something about it spoke to me (maybe a premonition of the love affair to come! ;) ). I was moving up north (leaving home for the third and final time), having rented a partly furnished one bedroom appartement, with no additional storage space, second hand. At the same time mom and my sister Kajsa was moving to Malmö, and my brother Joakim was leaving the nest. The house was sold and everybody would have less space in their new homes - lot's of hard choices were made.
I loved that desk, I really did. But the appartement already had a desk, I anyway had a load of moving boxes I couldn't store anywhere except my bedroom and the hallway. Mom stood by the car, the desk halfway out and I hesitated, so very torn. Mom said "Will you take it with you or no? I'm going to the landfill now." I closed my eyes, pushed away the knot in my belly and said "Go."
Wrong decision. Totally wrong. And one I've regretted more times than I can count. For in the end I could have found space for it even in the furnished appartement - four legs and a slice of wood is easy to fit in and I anyway felt like I lived in a storage space that first year. When I moved to my own place it would have been perfect. Not so long after that the love-affair with vintage started, I began appreciating the old teak furnitures more and I started sewing more regularly. For five years I've searched for the twin of the desk I foolishly let go (don't think about the landfill, don't think about it smashed to pieces. D**n, too late.)
I try to tell myself that I've learned something very important through this: Sometimes it's hard to let go of old things because of misguided nostalgia, and then it's a sort of catharsis to clean them out. Hard to do, but you feel better afterwards. Other times, it's hard to let go because you deeply love something, even though it's not practical or doesn't fit in. And then it's foolish to ignore your resistance, it's better to keep what we deeply love close to us, and adjust the little things in life to them, instead if the other way around. The trick is to learn to tell the difference between nostalgia and true affection.
So, all of this said, I've been on the look out for a new sewing table for years. I've activly searched for two years, since moving to my non-student appartement and therefore having more stability in my living situation. And I've finally found it! And it's even better than the one that got away! May I introduce you to...
It's an old studio sewing table that belonged to the seller's passed away mother (a lady who apparently ran her own sewing studio). I'm pretty sure it's made to order, as there are so many unique features to it (and some signs of traditional woodman craft).
It's 110x150 cm (xxx"), so it's huge! At least in my book it's huge =) The surface is covered with something that has a suspicious similarity to plastic carpeting, but whatever it is, it's very unsensitive to needles, scissors etc, and the fabric doesn't shift around a whole lot on it. I like it =)
There are two sets of drawers, the bottom one on the right side is tailormade for hanging folders.
On the other shortside there's a beautiful shelf, perfect for storing boxes of sewing supplies and sewing reference books.
It was in pretty bad shape, but after some cleaning and a lot of teak oil it looks great. It was also a bit unstable, but some wooden plugs to secure the table top to the drawer unit and it's standing still =)