It’s interesting when you want something so bad, for so long, then when you finally find it the greatest emotion you can conjure up is ‘meh.’
And after scouring the internets for years trying to find affordable vintage french wine crates, that don’t involve ridiculous over seas shipping charges, I stumbled upon some for only $9 in an antique store around the corner. No shipping charges, just throw them in your car.
I mean, I have plenty of Trader Joe wine cases, but I feel aesthetically, it’s just not the same.
I snagged two (a Bordeaux of course) and briefly contemplated buying all of them then reselling them on the internet at an astronomical mark up. Is there a market for wine crates or am I the only person excited to buy a wooden box?
I had originally been to the antique store looking for a writing desk but found these crates instead. They had about 20 or so and I told myself I’d come back in a couple days to pick up. All I could think about for two days were all the boxes being sold out from under me so I hurried back before my anxiety skyrocketed even more. All 20 were still in stock. Apparently the market isn’t as strong as I had anticipated.
So I began searching Pinterest (please help, I’m turning Stepford) and found lots of interesting ideas. Emphasis on interesting. Someone had even refinished an entire wall with wine crate pieces.
Why would I want to staple gun pieces of wine crate to my wall? I just spent three months painting every inch of this house. I will die before anyone staple guns anything to it, I will guard these freshly painted walls with my life.
Since clearly that was out, I found what I thought to be one of the easiest (WRONG) ideas. I would make it into a tray. As in- disassemble, rearrange then reassemble. Oh, and stain and poly it. God, staining is a nightmare.
So I ripped apart one of the boxes and made measurements for pieces to be cut. It just so happens The Boyfriend received a circular saw for Christmas. We’ve both been to scared to take it out of the box, as if taking it out of the box consigns one of us to losing a hand. But I was determined to make this tray (I get ideas stuck in my head and no one gets any peace until I do something about it) and somehow persuaded The Boyfriend to risk his hands and cut the trim.
He cut the trim, I stained everything, including my hands (plural because I still have both of them), and I let it dry for a couple hours. Last part was to reassemble. Well, I was just going to nail the sides back on but with the first swing of my pink hammer, I smashed the trim into about 6-7 pieces. It like spontaneously combusted in my hand. So then I spent an hour gluing everything back together.
Then I realized, screw these nails (construction joke, you might not get it), I’ll just glue the whole thing back together.
So if you ever come over to my house, just remember don’t touch it.