It started back in the eighties. I found myself wishing for a simpler time, with a slower pace. I loved wood moldings and retro/reproduction furniture from Pottery Barn, and old crystal doorknobs that looked like they were from the twenties, from Restoration Hardware. I started listening to standards and lounge music. I discovered the joys of fragrant French soap. My roommate at the time taught me about how 300-count thread sheets, egyptian cotton towels, and how these things combined with fresh-smelling fabric softener, could all bring a little more joy to your daily life. I found myself drinking lemonade and gardening more. I learned to enjoy hearty weekend breakfasts, followed by hikes (and a nap) in the afternoons.
Of course, this was all in between my mad, hectic, compressed, insane race to an advertising career and cosmopolitan youthful lifestyle. But I thought perhaps there was a cultural shift going on: something bubbling beneath the cut-cut-cut of the instant music video world we lived in, and something beyond the L.A. traffic jams and instant Danish boxy furniture we’d all become accustomed to. I saw a ripple in the ether.
A cultural shift was indeed happening, and it was evident that it wasn’t just me with these yearnings. I felt like there was a move towards simplicity, slowing down, and sentimentality. Then in the nineties, it moved forward rapidly. Continue reading