1930's Dreamin'

You go to my head
With a smile that makes my temperature rise
Like a summer with a thousand Julys
You intoxicate my soul with your eyes

There aren’t many things more sophisticatedly sexy than Louis Armstrong singing ‘You Go to my Head’, the tune is absolutely swoon worthy—add to that some dim lights and a little wine and you have yourself the start of a very lovely evening. You're probably wondering what this has to do with historic homes. Well, this scene is exactly what I wanted, the very reason I bought my home. I purchased a historic house to capture a feeling. Revive an era, if you will. For as far back as I can remember, I’ve always had a thing for days gone by, oddly enough, I felt I belonged there and I was fortunate enough to find a man that shared my same sentiments. Here we are one of our many times pretending to be old school:

 

 

Nothing like that Old Hollywood glamour…

 

That face you make when you KNOW you’re clean…

 

 

Yes, even our little guy gets in on the vintage action!

 



 

The fashion, the music, the class—the vintage attracts as well as inspire me. So as soon as our realtor pulled back the door to our house I knew that it was the one for ME us. After being underwhelmed by most of its predecessors, our  house was like a breath of fresh air. It was built in 1930, and true to design back then, it had its fair share of uniqueness. Back in the day people truly put a lot into architecture (the attention to detail in older homes is unsurpassed in my opinion). 

For me, there are very few things as boring as a subdivision with row after row of the exact same house, the only difference being the address. Although those communities are often kept in tip-top shape and nice in their own right, we just didn’t want a cookie cutter property. And we didn’t get one either. 

;-) 

Even though our house was in horrific shape when we first laid eyes on it, my mind instantly begin converting it into what I knew it could be. I imagined John Coltrane on surround sound and the hubby and I having Gatsby-like gatherings. Of course our home would have to be a whole lot grander/larger to reach Gatsby status—but it was old. And it was beautiful. A livable time-capsule. It cultivated my vintage dreams, allowing me to play make believe in a time long gone away. We put the offer in before we left the showing... and the rest, my dear, is history.

 

 

It’s Pretty, isn’t it Old Sport?

 

Perhaps my reasons for purchasing may seem impractical; what adult buys a home to essentially role play? One that is happy (most times) with their purchase, that's who! Not only does my home provide a roof over my head, but it gives me a feeling that no other place could. Lucky me.

Listen to Louis Armstrong's You Go To My Head here :-)

How was that? Now keep it sexy and Listen to Coltrane's In a Sentimental Mood Here :-)