About a year ago, Tony and I stopped at a moving sale in our neighborhood and scored big time. I got a midcentury orange chair to match my living room decor for $5, some necklaces (including the one I wore to this wedding) for $1 each, flower pots for 10 cents apiece and a pirate trunk for $10. The stuff was priced to sell.
I've blogged before about the trunks in my house. (Exhibit A. Exhibit B.) I have five trunks and actually have been keeping my eyes peeled for a sixth. They're all different and interesting to look at, not to mention functional.
The pirate trunk, for example, is just the right size to fit (most of) our CD collection. I know this is an MP3 world, but I don't think we're going to be getting rid of the CDs any time soon because we're fuddy duddy like that. Actually, Tony keeps adding to the collection. When I'm scoping out pirate trunks and purty necklaces at garage sales, he gravitates toward the inevitable pile of CDs that the seller's trying to unload. He'll get them for a song (or free) and bring them home and upload them to iTunes.
Anyway, so we have this pirate trunk that holds CDs. The problem is ... it was hideous.
The trim on the left side was a broken disaster. And are those handles on the front?
And what's up with the chains?
A little wood glue and a nail fixed the trim problem, and spackle filled the holes.
Tony is officially in charge of all demo projects in the house, so I enlisted him to remove the chains and diamond-shaped wood handles, which were also on the side of the trunk.
And then I took a paintbrush to that bad boy last weekend and gave him a new life as a white pirate trunk.
I (usually) love the way natural wood looks, so I cringe when I see people paint natural wood furniture. But not in this case, for two reasons.
First of all, the trunk style is dated, and white paint made the piece more modern and look like it belongs in the house of young adults.
Second, the trunk was constructed with butt joints. Since my dad got into woodworking, I've gained an appreciation for the craftsmanship of joints. Dovetail joints, for example, take time to put together and will produce a sturdy piece of furniture. I just went around my house looking for dovetail joints, and the ones in my kitchen drawers are easy to see because they're two-toned:
Butt joints are an easy way out. Put two boards together, hammer a nail and call it a day. Bottom line, butt joints = non-heirloom-quality furniture = paint may be permissible, in my book.
I kept the original latch and just spray painted it when I painted the front door hardware.
White pirate trunk, where have you been all my life?
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