We went antiquing on the weekend, to a Victorian home in Jordan, Ontario. As we stepped into the old, majestic homestead, we realized that there was not a soul in sight, and immediately became a bit creeped out by the creaking floors, cool gusts of air, and eerily placed antique dolls. Working our way through the various rooms of the house, we finally came across the owner, an older gentleman sleeping silently in his chair, surrounded by hoards of antiques. We startled him, and he awoke with a jolt. The basement of the home was, by far, one of the most horror-movie-esque experiences of my life. Not only was it almost pitch-black, but there was leaking water from the almost-collapsing ceiling, a rope hanging from the creaking floor boards above us, and spiders crawling across the items. My favourite piece in the entire house was a tea trolley, made of mahogany, that was probably from the early 1900s.
Outside, there were various stalls which, I assume, are home to individual sellers of antiques in the warmer months. Now they were covered in a thin layer of snow. I wore my hair that day in a braided bun, from a hair tutorial I saw on Cup of Jo. It was super-easy and held in place all day (which usually doesn’t happen with my crazy Lion King hair).
After the amazing little side-table I scored in Holland on Queen’s Day two years ago, and the half-moon blue antique console we found this summer at the St. Lawrence Market in Toronto, I was hoping to leave the antique store in Jordan with a new little find. That didn’t happen, but browsing around was quite an experience in and of itself.