Alegria Collection Brings You the Joy of Vintage

The last time I walked out the door of our family home in Uruguay--pictured above--was in 1988. The farmhouse table we had inherited from my grandfather, and he from his father, was still in the kitchen. Family photographs, letters, and documents lay tucked away in boxes. My voluminous scrapbooks of everything Beatles, painstakingly assembled when I was a teenager, were left behind, too.

It had been a short visit--only about two weeks--but at age 36, I was now old enough to comprehend the loss, something that had escaped me at age 18, when my parents had made the momentous decision to move the family to the United States. Now I understood: my roots had been severed long ago, the "things" that connected me to my family's past, sold or abandoned.

During the intervening years between our first departure and return visit, I had married, and my husband and I--quite accidentally--had become antiques and "junk" collectors, when the unsuccessful search for a new couch led us past an auction house. I don't really know why we stopped, but perhaps it was a pull from my subconscious--and his as well; after all, his family had lived in Mississippi for five generations, and his roots ran deep. That night we bought our first antiques: a walnut writing desk and two golden oak pieces. (The couch--antique, of course--would come much later!)

From that day on, we were hooked! Every Saturday night we drove 45 minutes to Vicksburg, where we found antebellum furniture, depression glass, and primitives in abundance. Our discoveries mesmerized us, mostly with the mystery of their history. Those Saturday nights in a smoke-filled, unheated (or un-air-conditioned) warehouse, and after-midnight drives home, are the most fun we've ever had. We began spending the rest of our free time stripping old paint, sanding, refinishing. It was exciting to see a battered Victorian chair turn into a thing of beauty.

As so many old things passed through my hands, I developed a new awareness of the continuity of life. Not that "we" live forever, but that our possessions survive most of us, are passed down to the next generation--or sold at auction. And those objects have their own stories to tell, some of which are remembered and repeated, most of which remain untold and forever forgotten.

That day in 1988, the thought of possessions becoming separated from those who remember their stories and former owners' stories, was uppermost in my mind--and it made my stomach lurch a bit when I closed the door to our old house. I can't have my great-grandfather's kitchen table, or my grandmother's red ware teapot (chipped spout and all), or the books my parents had collected during their first 20 years of marriage--I only have their stories. So with that realization, and the collecting tradition my husband and I had already started, it was inevitable that my addiction--yes, it's an addiction--to possessing vintage items would grow. And as I acquired those things of unknown origin, I would silently make up my own version of their past lives and those of their previous owners.

But there comes a time when a collector must take stock and decide what to keep and what to pass on. I can't stop collecting, but I also know I can no longer keep everything I buy. That's how The Alegria Collection on Etsy was born. Alegria means joy in Spanish, and the shop is my joyful opportunity to share my vintage finds with you. The pieces in the shop reflect what intrigues me about our connections to the past--the quirkiness, the uniqueness, the history of these often discarded and unstoried objects. I am now passing on my vintage finds to you and, if you decide to make a purchase, I hope whatever you choose will bring you as much joy as finding it did for me.