I received this antique sewing machine from my grandmother (and it belonged to her grandmother, etcetcetc…) around the time I was 21. Apparently everyone had a little too much confidence in my ability to take care of antiques, because, not only do I cringe when I think of what this table has been through, I cringe when I think of the crap I’ve decorated it with.
But thankfully, it has remained in storage the last couple years so the damage I could inflict has been minimal. Now I’m a fully functioning adult (I’m sure some people who read that will get a good laugh on that one) and can decorate a table.
Well, I at least won’t be putting Hello Kitty stickers on it this time.
And as I mentioned, since I am a fully functioning adult, I need a whiskey bar.
I had previously thought to use it as a side table and place of gorgeous piece of slate colored granite on top. My contractor said he had a piece and would give it to me for free (he used to like me). As our friendship turned into him never showing up for work and me constantly bitching at him, I realized my dreams of a granite covered side table were like dust in the wind.
Similar to my thoughts of remodeling this house on budget. God, I love remodeling.
But since, I’ve ‘revisited and revised’. I modernized my sewing table into a whiskey bar. Complete with an antique brass cat The Boyfriend bought me for my birthday last week.
And doesn’t everyone need a whisky bar? Whiskey can make all your problems go away. That is, until you wake up with the original problem and the additional new problem of being hungover.
Maybe I still have a little too much of my 21-year-old self in me. But at least my tastes in whiskey have improved…