A blue-ribbon with hand-painted flowers. One of many in a trunk at the brocante.
What is it about lace, ribbons, bows… girl fluff? Why do these trunks, and there are many, make me stop and look? Given that I can't stand to cut into old textiles, I usually go home and add the girl fluff to a basket.
Oh, those darn big leather-covered wooden trunks with heavy locks and old labels, just tempt and tease, they seem to haunt:
"O…P…E…N – M..E!"
And I do.
Maybe the main attraction is because I can put a ribbon anywhere. It isn't heavy and it does not take up any room.
French Husband shakes his head, "Then why do you like books? And chairs? And urns? And statues…
I put my hand over his mouth.
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