I’m having serious ‘I miss having my own apartment’ withdrawal symptoms. Due to graduating/jobs/money, we had to move in with my fiancés mum [who is utterly amazing, I must add], but, as everyone who has left the nest knows that once you’ve had your own apartment, full of your own things scattered about the place, it can be hard to adjust. We’ve been here just over a month now [only a couple more to go], but because this place is so cosy, pretty, all romantic and candle-lit, with a bonus roof terrace for evening BBQs, it’s making me pine for my own nest.
So, I’ve been taking this all out on my home inspiration board on pinterest – which seems to be full of vintage this and vintage that [the scruffier the better]. I have a weird obsession for wooden boxes. I don’t know why, maybe it stems from my childhood? Didn’t we all used to play with the box more than the toy? Anyway, I stumbled across this box the other week [and even though it wasn’t brown, broken, with worn writing], I fell a little bit in love with it [probably because it was a fiver, and I had just spent the morning obsessively searching for vintage boxes on pinterest]. Surprisingly, I left it. The reason being was that our stuff was all piled up in a corner, and I’d have nowhere to put it. But, on the weekend, the boy’s mum called me and said “there are two large boxes left, do you want one?”
Well, how could I resist?
For the time being, I’m keeping copies of ELLE & VOGUE inside, with the odd flower thrown in for good measure.