gomi girl

Gomi is the Japanese word for trash. I love it! Much better than trash picker or dumpster diver, just call me gomi girl. Japan is simply marvelous for trash. I’ll have to have my good friend take a picture of my sister’s china closet, it is simply chock full of gomi-dishes. You see some Japanese believe in bad luck. Every culture has it’s superstitions I suppose. If they break a dish or bowl in a set they simply set out the rest on the trash. The magical things you can find on the gomi pile in Japan is endless.

I used to live in a rather posh part of Philadelphia. As the song goes, albeit about Delancey in NYC, isn’t it fancy on old Delancey? Glorious gomi to be had on and near Delancey Place in this here Philadelphia. I found a framed Dali, a bread machine ( i put it back on the trash after my ex told me it was not a good model), lamps, books, the neatest bookends ( from umbra…will post a pic of them another day) as I still have not figured out a proper use for them!, a great pot for making soup….the list goes on!

In my new digs, the gomi is good on my walk home from my friends house and this winter was excellent for clementine crates. Clementine crates are slowly fading away now, seems lots of companies are making ones from cardboard or just packing them in netting. I love clementine crates! They are perfect for towels, tools, anything really! Plus they stack so well. See pic to see a clementine crate re-purposed as a lovely kitchen towel holder!

I love staring at my new walls and pointing out how much is GOMI!

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beginnings

They say what you wanted to be as a child is what you should do as an adult. As a child I drew fashion designs. My sister who is nine years older than me would show them to her friends. Later on I was fortunate to go to Parsons fashion shows as a high school student. I never learned to sew however. So, I suppose I took to the next design focus. If I couldn’t make clothes I could design my surroundings.

One of my idols, Julia Child, states you should never apologize. So, I’m not sorry I do not have a picture to show you my high school bedroom. However, it was pretty cool. I am fortunate to have some family heirlooms which before it was even en vogue I was intermixing. I had a wall of quotes behind my bed I constantly added to on strips of white paper. I wasn’t allowed to make nail marks at that point….so scotch tape was my best friend. On to college I learned the beauty of decorating with old calendars, tapestries, a steam trunk as a coffee table, and the joy of your roommate moving out!

I reside in Philadelphia. I have lived in five different spaces here, but my current studio apartment is my favorite. I love my home. Love is not a sufficient word sometimes. I love my home like a first born child? Like a soldier who would die for their country? I’m not kidding. I love it…even the slopping floor in the kitchen and the stupid sliding doors in the bathroom. As Mark Darcy would say to Bridget Jones “I love you just as you are”….well sure I would love to rip out the kitchen cabinets, but shh don’t tell my apartment that!

So let me introduce you to my apartment, which I refer to sometimes as the Fitz-Carlton ( I live near Fitzwater street) This is my newest addition to my home. My wall of wood and muted tones….as the rest of my home is a bit bright

 

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