Five sisters grew up on Red Bridge Road, immersed in nature and goodness. We played together in the woods that adjoined our home, and it was there that we bonded with the change of seasons during solitary strolls to reflect upon it all. Perhaps Melissa’s little red velvet purse, a 4th birthday gift, incubated a passion for all things Victorian. She would stroke the silky weave as though it were a dove’s wing. Countless influences fueled a fetish for sensory intrigue; stained glass windows illuminated by the sunset during evening mass, romantic piano music in the ballet studio, gardenias floating in a rose bowl. Our exquisitely French grandmother intrigued us with antiquarian oddities and heirlooms scattered about her estrogen-infused home: tufted feather down-sofas and needlepoint rockers lured one to sit for a spell. Tatted lace dripped from her bedclothes while menacing brass gargoyle drawer pulls on her buffet were alarmingly at eye-level, clawfoot legs supported her tub and sunshine through curtain lace scattered intricate patterns upon the walls. A tasseled skeleton key secured a curio that was filled with peculiar porcelains and bizarre figurines. But best of all was the plump china-painted pot that harbored scalloped sugar cookies from the A&P market. Little girls’ wondrous eyes soaked in the loveliness that would later birth beautiful notions. 

Sister #3 and #5 have been aligned for over three decades now, scouring flea markets and antique shops the world over while collecting stories and unravelling the secrets of the past.