Sunday, October 20, 2013

To See How the Other Half Lives

Inspirational song: Glass Onion (The Beatles)

At some point last year, maybe in the spring, a friend gave me passes to a home and garden tour of the million(s)-dollar historic homes downtown. Her mother in law had purchased tickets for multiple nights, and was either worn out or just not interested in taking the last day's tour. So the man and I went down and walked all around the gorgeous old neighborhood, getting to see the inside of houses we otherwise could never enter. They were inspiring. In some ways, they were TOO inspiring. It was after this experience that he and I lost all self-control, and poured all of our extra money into the garden centers around town. We had an example to follow, but we didn't have the same budget. They keys to these stunning courtyards were money, hardscaping, and time. We failed on all those levels. We didn't build the stone and brick infrastructure, we didn't have hired landscapers and laborers to handle every detail, and we didn't have a hundred years or more for things to grow in and fill out. I was still suffering the lingering effects of this garden envy at the beginning of this year, when I imagined that I was going to be able to maintain an intricate large garden by myself, through the crushing heat and whatever befell me. I think the important lesson I learned over this season is to pace myself, making my cultivated space fit my manpower resources.

This week, a different friend came to me with passes for different houses on the same preservation society tour. She received two free passes in a basket she won in our charity auction this spring, and just realized recently that the tour was happening now, and she would be gone for the next two weekends. So for the second year in a row, I happily snooped in other people's homes. This year was very enlightening, in different ways than last year. Three of the four houses were occupied full time by the current owners, and the other was a part-time residence, I understand. The first house we entered was built in the early 19th century, occupied by the same owners for the last forty years, and appeared to be untouched by updates for at least the last thirty. It was like being in anyone's grandparents' house. There was a beautiful collection of antiques, decoration from another era, and a slight air of neglect. Some peeling paint, some appliances that dated back to the 1980s. A giant cube of a television in the upstairs den, and someone's favorite chair had a deep groove in the cushion, like she spent all of her free time in it. Very different than the posh two year old house later on the tour that was built in the quintessential local style, that blended in like it had been here two hundred years instead. Between those two, we toured an 1890s house that was built specifically to thumb the owner's nose at the locals who had snubbed her. She was a carpetbagger who built a solid brownstone in the Baltimore style, instead of a classic Charleston single designed to catch the sea air. 

Oddly, walking through these houses made them so much more approachable, and it made the occupants seem so much more human. I expect them to seem so far above my pay grade, so removed from my world. But they have collections of items like I have, they have furniture and textile pieces scattered in that I could find at the same shops I go to. I'm pretty sure I saw a quilt from Target in one of the bedrooms. Instead of coming home feeling inadequate, it made me feel pretty good about my own house, about my own collections. 

Walking back to the parking garage, or more accurately limping back after hours standing on granite sidewalks, we took a less-traveled road. It felt more approachable, less like a tourist route. The trees were well into an extended campaign to raise the sidewalks and streets. The ironwork fences and gates made me want to stop and take pictures all along the way. I found the other copy of my favorite gate, the mate to the sword gate at the Citadel. I can't say what it is I find so fascinating about this gate, but I adore it. I know they sell small replicas of it, in wall hanger and smaller trivet sizes. I will be getting one of them, as soon as I decide which size I want and discover where the money will be coming from.

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