I am a firm believer that you never know what you are going to find and where you are going to find it. After a nice Saturday of laying on my balcony sunning, I decided to brave the forecasted afternoon hurricane and venture to Brooklyn, not the usual direction for me though it is only one stop to cross the East River. So I jumped on the F train and within 5 minutes I was wandering the streets of Cobble Hill. It was two years since my last visit, and I had been dying to see what sort of shops had popped up on Atlantic Ave, the once home to some of my favorite industrial antiques and designer resale. Little did I know that those years had almost tripled the prices, and my favorite shops now were at the price points of my clients. Still looking for inspiration, I browsed the racks to see what they were selling and the prices they were hoping to magically sell these pieces for. This is how I stumbled upon today’s treasure. En route back to the subway, I passed a cheesy looking thrift shop with a window filled with grandma’s best glassware and not much else, but mentally needing to make some sort of purchase, I decided to pop in. Why not? I had nothing to lose but time. I always stress that you can never judge a book by its cover, and if you use a little patience, you are bound to uncover some unknown gem in the shadows. This is my buried treasure. For $15, I am now the proud owner of this vintage giant Canadian Club bottle. Anyone who knows me, knows my affinity for bar accessories. Whether it’s vintage snuff tins, old decanters, matchbooks and apparently oversized liquor bottles, there is something masculine, sophisticated and classic about bar paraphernalia. It must be my longing for the days of answering machines and Sam Cooke, when the stars in the sky were still visible and a glass of wine at lunch or two wasn’t a special occasion. This bottle makes me smile every time I see it popping up behind the vodka and Jameson bottles. Old giant liquor bottles are also an eclectic addition to any shelf or corner, even if you don’t stock a bar. Think next to an old globe or a vintage typewriter sharing the same masculine qualities. Wherever you decide to put one, it will add a feeling of authority demanding respect from anyone who walks into the room.
~ 114 Smith St (btw Dean St and Pacific St)
Cobble Hill, Brooklyn