A spot of vintage, charming, floral tea. The perfect teacup.
In all my music tours of the UK, my favorite part is always sitting down with my host (sometimes an overworked venue promoter and sometimes just a nice family who hosts a few house concerts a year) after a long drive and sharing "a cuppa." Usually I begin my UK trip wishing I'd asked for decaf, and I end each tour blissfully addicted. It's not just the tea itself. It's the ceremony, the tradition, the wait-patiently-and-ponder-while-it-steeps, and: the cups.
I won't pretend they were all charming, floral and vintage. Plenty were the classic white IKEA mugs.
Somehow, even those IKEA cups have a little more oomph to them when served in an English (or Scottish or Welsh!) Cottage Garden. Lately I have yearned to share a proper Clippers Earl Grey (shout out to my aristo friends!) in a perfectly trimmed garden by a stone cottage with a thatched roof with a murder mystery surrounding me (okay, maybe not that last part -- my imagination runs rampant).
Seeing as how my house has vinyl siding, and my hedge maze is still in infancy stages, I decided to create my own magic. My cups needed improving me. I love my Thing 1 and Thing 2 mugs, but they do not scream aristocracy -- or even peasant, really. They scream AMERICAN!.
A few weeks ago, I broke my don't-buy-anything-material-only-buy-dinner-and-plane-tickets rule, and I bought a teacup from Anthropologie. Granted, I talked myself out of the $288 dresses, but still, I bought a $6.95 (50%off!) teacup. I felt guilty immediately. Also, I cannot describe the immense pleasure it has brought me -- to slow down and pop a sugar cube and mix it with my tea with a tiny spoon.
Then it occurred to me that somewhere between my house and my mom's house, I actually had several vintage floral teacups -- the kind that no one is allowed to use because they used to be great-grandmother's or something. And I thought: what is the point? The point should be to slow down and drink tea, not to trap them in newspaper in a box in the basement. I haven't found the majority of the collection, but I was able to liberate a few. And don't they look wonderful??
Now excuse me while I put the kettle on...
I won't pretend they were all charming, floral and vintage. Plenty were the classic white IKEA mugs.
Seeing as how my house has vinyl siding, and my hedge maze is still in infancy stages, I decided to create my own magic. My cups needed improving me. I love my Thing 1 and Thing 2 mugs, but they do not scream aristocracy -- or even peasant, really. They scream AMERICAN!.
A few weeks ago, I broke my don't-buy-anything-material-only-buy-dinner-and-plane-tickets rule, and I bought a teacup from Anthropologie. Granted, I talked myself out of the $288 dresses, but still, I bought a $6.95 (50%off!) teacup. I felt guilty immediately. Also, I cannot describe the immense pleasure it has brought me -- to slow down and pop a sugar cube and mix it with my tea with a tiny spoon.
Then it occurred to me that somewhere between my house and my mom's house, I actually had several vintage floral teacups -- the kind that no one is allowed to use because they used to be great-grandmother's or something. And I thought: what is the point? The point should be to slow down and drink tea, not to trap them in newspaper in a box in the basement. I haven't found the majority of the collection, but I was able to liberate a few. And don't they look wonderful??
Now excuse me while I put the kettle on...
2 comments
Pretty! I have about 20 sitting up in my cabinets that I hardly ever get to use because somebody (ahem) doesn't like to allow me the time to sit and sip that those little dainties require.
ReplyDeleteLol! Yep. Preschool for the win. It's expensive, but it is cheaper than therapy.
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