Hunting For: Cathrineholm for a Song

Scandinavian mid century design doesn't get more iconic than the lotus pattern enamel Cathrineholm pieces. I'm sure you've seen their bowls or platters or fondue pots somewhere--ever since Rachel Ray got her EVOO streaked paws all over them (she used a lookalike bowl on her show 30 Minute Meals), they've transformed into mid century for the masses.

Source

That doesn't mean they're easy to find in Toronto, though. I've said it before and I'll say it again: TO's antique prices are off the chain. Ripped right off the chain. The smallest of teak pieces at antique stores are never under $200, Craigslist ads easily demand $500 for a 'retro looking' chair somebody else farted on, and I've even seen garage sales asking upwards of $1500 for a 1960's couch with cat scratches. There's no fun in that. And, trapped in my entry level job, there's no money for that.

I've never seen any lotus pattern Cathrineholm pieces for sale in this city. I've seen them in antique store windows, defiantly not for sale, but I've never spotted some at my usual haunts. In the summer, that means street sales and church bazaars and flea markets. The deals always migrate outside. In the winter, I hole up in thrift stores, desperate to find a treasure, but rarely do. I spend full days at "thrift corner" (Dixie and Dundas in Mississauga) where four thrift stores converge into one beautiful little shopping mecca, and still find nothing special. (Note: never go to thrift corner. Forget I told you about it. It's MINE.)

I still have dreams about finding that elusive piece of Cathrineholm, though. I don't want to pay through the nose for an avocado green lotus lasagna pan on eBay. Again, that's not the point. I want to roam through a stinking Goodwill and find an avocado green lotus lasagna pan hidden among the old Tupperware and chipped comic strip Cathy mugs (Ack!!). In a perfect world, I find two pieces: one to keep and one to sell. But for now I'll just keep looking.

From nopatternrequired.com

Ikea Kitchen Cart DIY

Truth: I've never wanted a Bekvam cart, that Ikea staple of a million undergrad kitchens.

It's a functional size and shape, but the untreated wood isn't very appealing. Last month, during a DIY drought--our apartment is running out of projects, how will I live?--I decided to give in, buy the Bekvam, lug the box home and start staining. Our existing kitchen "cart" needed to eat it, after all:

I mean, look at that thing. Purchased on sale at Canadian Tire in 2008 for $10. It could barely even stand up straight.  

Staining and painting are hard tasks when you live in a cramped apartment, so I opted to get the job done outside on our (equally cramped) front porch. Let's just say, I spent a lot of time yelling at wind.

After:

(Please ignore the disgusting switch plate. This ain't my house, so I ain't DIY-ing that thing.)

It looks like a million bucks--or like $249.00, which is the price of Ikea's similar Stenstorp cart. 

I'm currently living cheaper than Ikea. I didn't think it could be done. 

Also!

A gift from Devan's mom, or, a book salvaged from a basement in London, ON. Yes, those are goblets of milk on the front cover. 

I may have to start a series of blog posts testing out these recipes. Nay, will. 

Fake Gardens

I made a few resolutions at the start of this year: the same massive ones I make every year and inevitably fail at (control my diabetes better, run more road races, start budgeting), but also a new dumb goal (have more flowers in my apartment). The first three are off to an okay start; it's that last one that's sucking miserably.

My flower resolution hasn't gone well so far, mostly due to winter, but most-mostly due to me. The thought of carrying a plant home in mittened hands just seems cruel, and I already killed my Ikea succulents with too much love/water. I have a whole fleet of thrifted milk glass vases waiting to be filled with posies from Coriander Girl but they have to wait a little longer. In the meantime I'll be making these wool flowers (as seen in Sweet Paul) and tossing them all over my apartment. These were featured in the kid's issue, but I have the crafting tendencies of an 8-year-old so that's alright. I'm so sorry, Devan, in advance--our place is about to look even more like Martha Stewart's shitter.