something old

Lately, I’ve been spending weekends wandering through antique shops in Brooklyn and Westchester, searching for mirrors, lighting, and seating for the brownstone. Some pieces felt distinctly turn-of-the-century. Others carried the bold lines and confidence of the 1980s. Each one reflected a different moment in design history, a different set of influences, materials, and ways of living.

Around the same time, I was listening to a conversation between Kelly Wearstler and Rick Rubin about creating spaces with soul. One idea stayed with me: the importance of balancing old and new. Too much of either can feel one-dimensional. But when antiques are layered with contemporary pieces, something more interesting happens. A home begins to feel collected rather than decorated.

What draws me to antiques isn’t nostalgia. It’s the sense of history they bring into a room. The worn edge of a mirror. The patina on a lamp. The curve of a chair that has somehow remained relevant across decades. They arrive carrying traces of another time while remaining untethered from the personal stories that came before me.

I like that balance.

A home should reflect the people who live in it, but I also think it should leave room for history. Antiques do that beautifully. They bring their own sense of time and place, adding another layer to the story a house is already telling.

More soon,

L