Look Mom, I'm in 1962!

Sometimes, when vintaging (my new verb), I find a house that I'd like to own just for a weekend. I know, I know, it's a crazy idea, but it's a mini-fantasy. Like this weekend, for instance, we stopped at a sale in the Highland Park neighborhood of St. Paul, and the street was lined with adorable houses, the sale being at this cutie pie. I could've played house in there for days.

The interior had the requisite "fancy" living room — the kind Grandma never lets you play in — and beyond the dining room was the most clever, gasp-worthy sweet use of a passageway I've ever seen. It was half butler's pantry, half breakfast nook, and connected the dining room to the kitchen. The light doesn't do it justice in this photo, but talk about cheery... it's exactly the kind of place you'd serve your friends some kind of jello mold and gossip about the neighbors. While wearing a frilly apron, of course.

The coordinating curtains, cushions and wallpaper just screamed happy. And Saturday-morning pancakes.

  

I would never paint our cabinets, so I just have to drool over other people's white cabinets.

The upstairs bedrooms featured cool built-ins (including a built-in corner vanity — sigh!) and I picked up a few cool scarves, a Bermuda purse set, and some shoe clips, all in red and navy. Definitely this lady's favorite colors. Then we went to the basement and voila... the ultimate party room!

Who wants a Manhattan?

Seriously. This basement covered all the retro-basement bases. Bar? Check. Wood paneling, preferably with scalloped trim? Check. Sleek, cool, uncomfortable furniture? Check. Naugahyde? Check. Even a fake window with installed lighting. Freaking. Out. Standing.

Nevermind the merchandise and exercise bike. That's an emerald-green banquette overlooking a handpainted faux window. With curtains, even! 

 

 

If only I had a brick-and-mortar shop x 500. That's an adorable folding table on the left, part of a two-table set. I wussed out. At $6 apiece I wussed out. Dammit.

Totally, totally the kind of house — and basement — for hosting one heck of a party. And running around with curlers in your hair, eating ham loaf (what is it, anyway?) and white bread, and pouring stiff drinks for your husband. After sneaking a few of your own.