Posts by Janelle Asplund (page 2)
Hi there. I’m Janelle, Rejuvenation’s newest writer.
Let’s get this out of the way: I used to work for Martha Stewart. I was there when she went to prison, knitted the infamous poncho, and returned wearing an ankle bracelet. Although I learned much too much about the perils of insider trading, Martha also taught me tons about domesticity, decorating, and antiques. Which was handy, because after seven years in New York, I moved to Ohio and into a 1860s brick Italianate.
I have yet to find a lovably timeworn heap to call my own in Portland, but my itch for the historic, the genuine, and the one-of-a-kind receives regular scratching at Rejuvenation. Surrounded by lighting wonks and antique geeks, I feel just like I’m back at Martha - except that around here, when people talk about conviction, they don’t mean jail time.
Two truths and a lie:
My fondest hope is to start a goat farm
I have two French Bulldogs, both named George Foreman
My master’s degree is in theology
Spherical, tiered, and drum-shaped – these are just a few of the different forms our oversized shades take. But what they all have in common is they’re big. Like 18 inches across big. Or 22 inches long big. We like to think of them as large and in charge, because of the way they define a room.
While these shades are big, the effort it takes to incorporate them into your home isn’t. All you need do is replace an existing shade with something bolder (as long as it’s made to fit into the same size shade holder ). Swap out a 12-inch-diameter shade for a 16-inch version, and your room will have an eye-catching new centerpiece. Or consider using a fixture with an oversized shade in the dining room as a fresh alternative to a chandelier.
These large beauties appeal not only thanks to their compelling looks, but also because of their historic roots. In some cases, they were born of necessity. Take the wire mesh version of our globe shade, for example. In the early 20th century, this shade enjoyed widespread use across factory floors. The original purpose of the mesh was to catch glass shards in case the shade broke, protecting the workers below. Today, the mesh makes a pleasing textural design element.
Another example of aesthetics that clearly reflect their origins is our 17-inch-long Art Deco skyscraper shade. It’s a fine example of classic Deco attributes: elegance, glamour, functionality, and modernity (think Chrysler Building). We love how it dresses up a high-ceilinged space – and it looks especially smashing in multiples.
Not to be missed (or maybe we should say hard to miss) is the newest addition to our large shade offering: the Deco Drum Shade. Its three-part construction reflects a more scientific take on Art Deco, as it was originally engineered to produce a quality of light best suited to businesses and public spaces. Because of its commercial origins, this shade measures a generous 16 inches across. It’s a real standout over a kitchen island, in a master bath, or atop a stairwell. You can learn more about the background of the Deco Drum Shade (a.k.a. “The Wonder Unit”) in a recent blog post.
To see how a larger shade can impact a room, make sure to check out our latest Go Big Pinterest board.
This year, we have been sharing our Labor of Love stories with you. Some have been about products and some have been about personal experiences, but they’ve all reflected on our appreciation for the handmade, the hard-won, and the heartfelt. For Father’s Day, we’re honoring the people who often work the hardest for the least amount of praise — dads.
My dad is here in Portland for a visit. It will be the first Father’s Day my sister and I have spent with him in ages—so long, in fact, that none of us can remember the last time it happened.
Last night, we had bratwurst and sauerkraut for dinner. (We’re Swedish, but never mind that.) After I mentioned that I wanted to start making my own ‘kraut, my dad told us a story we’d never heard before. One of his first jobs—a job he lied about his age to get—was turning sauerkraut for a large food company. Into a vat the size of a mobile home, he would pour 50-pound bags of sugar. Then he would put on galoshes, grab a glorified pitchfork, climb into the vat, and toss the sugar and cabbage together.
While the mental image of my 6’3” dad wading through a gigantic mess of sauerkraut was certainly arresting, what really got my attention was this: my dad is 74 and I’m still just learning about him. It may be Father’s Day, but I think I’m the one receiving a gift.
Besides being a great friend of (and to) Rejuvenation, Joanne Palmisano is an author, stylist, and designer. She has her own blog and is in the process of writing her second book, Salvage Secrets, Reclaimed Design and Decor. After visiting us in Portland recently, Joanne gave us a rundown of some of her favorite things about our fair city.
1. Food carts. Food is always on my mind, and I think your food scene is amazing. While I was in Portland, I squeezed in meals from the Lardo cart, a bento cart in Sellwood, and an omelet cart on Mississippi. Fast, yummy food made from fresh ingredients that you get from the back of a truck or a small shed?!? Count your blessings!
2. Stair systems. I wish someone would create a map of all the amazing stair systems you have throughout the city. I love using them as a form of exercise. Depending on the day and the number of stairs, I could really get in a good workout.
3. Flowers. May is the most amazing month in Portland. I don’t know what you all do to your flowers, but I have never, ever, ever seen flowers so bright and in colors I didn’t even know existed! It was hard to go to work when all I wanted to do was walk through your neighborhoods and ooh and ahh over your flowers!
4. Shopping. Rejuvenation is just one example of mixed stores, where you can find new things, old things, and even a coffee shop. I love this type of retail space. I can bring my cart around, pick out things I love, and then when I need a little break, sit down and relax for a minute. These home-like stores are sorely missed in my town (hint hint, nudge nudge…)
5. Creative and unique homeowners and individuals. I love that you can be who you are in Portland. Your home, your clothes, your style. I love it! This tin man is in a homeowner’s backyard that we photographed for the second Salvage Secrets book. I loved him and the cleverness that comes along with him. Stay you, Portland!
6. Second-hand shops. Portland must have the most vintage shops, retro shops, thrift stores, flea markets, and antique stores on the planet. Really, I have never seen such a concentration of second-hand places in my life. It is nirvana for me… Actually, it can become a bit of a problem, but I swear I have it under control (mostly).
7. No bugs (or at least, very few). Where I live, if you’re outside after the sun goes down, you ‘re likely to lose about a quart of blood to mosquitoes. The fact that you Portlanders can open your windows—without screens—and sit outside and drink wine and play a game after dusk is amazing.
8. Good coffee. It’s on every corner. And I mean, literally, every corner. And how you all make the designs in the milk on the top is really an art. If there was an Olympic event for froth designs, you guys would win a gold medal!
9. Por Qué No. I have a bit of an obsession with this little Mexican taqueria on Mississippi.
10. Music. Every kind, every sound—bands, musicians, and groups abound. My daughter even came to Portland to go to a rock’n'roll camp. This band, Kansawyer, played in a small bar on Hawthorne. It was a lot of fun to hang out, drink good beer (another point for Portland), and listen.
Lucky you, Portland!
This year, we have been sharing our Labor of Love stories with you. Some have been about products and some have been about personal experiences, but they’ve all reflected on our appreciation for the handmade, the hard-won, and the heartfelt. To honor this weekend’s holiday, we wanted to pay tribute to the biggest labor of love of all: motherhood. We hope you enjoy our stories—and feel inspired to share one of your own with us. Or, even better, share it with the special ones near to you.
In my household growing up, my mother could whip up a dessert in less time than an episode of Family Ties. Her forte: baked goods. Specifically pies. My absolute favorite pie in her arsenal: Boston Cream Pie. She made it only on special occasions. If it was my birthday, I requested a Boston Cream Pie. After I crashed my first car in high school, I had a Boston Cream Pie. When I moved away for art school, I was welcomed home with a Boston Cream Pie (she made two for that).
Over the years, I’ve tried the Boston Cream Pie offerings at many a restaurant and bakery. Nothing I’ve found has ever come close.
Recently I was in Boston with an evening to kill. I did a quick google search and found that Boston Cream Pie originated at a famous hotel still in existence. I made my way to the Parker House on School Street. I sat myself down and ordered one thing. The Parker House version was very good. But it still couldn’t compare to my mother’s.
This year, we have been sharing our Labor of Love stories with you. Some have been about products and some have been about personal experiences, but they’ve all reflected on our appreciation for the handmade, the hard-won, and the heartfelt. To honor this weekend’s holiday, we wanted to pay tribute to the biggest labor of love of all: motherhood. We hope you enjoy our stories—and feel inspired to share one of your own with us. Or, even better, share it with the special ones near to you.
My mom's locket, which I now wear, with pictures of me and my sister
Much as it pains me to admit, I am a grown-up. A full-blown adult. Now that I’m in my late 30s, I am staring maturity full in the face. I’m also stringing it around my neck, setting my table with it, and placing it around my home: I wear my mom’s jewelry, own the same set of fancy china, and decorate with her things.
It started with a pair of bright orange glass candlesticks from the ’60s. I thought they were funny, and they matched my sofa. That was 15 years ago. In the intervening period, my mom’s stuff stopped looking so-ugly-they’re-cute and started looking…cool.
These days, I regularly ask my mom if I can have certain items—mostly pieces from my childhood. A few months ago, she called to say she’d seen a full set of our family china at a consignment shop. Those delicate plates and cups we only used on holidays, that I was always terrified of breaking—did I want them? You bet.
I am now moving into a new house. Soon I’ll head up to Seattle to pick up my latest hand-me-down: the dining room set my mom inherited from her mom. The next time we sit down for a family dinner—in my house, with my mom’s china pattern and my grandmother’s table—I’ll celebrate my mother’s influence. And I’ll celebrate that growing up is as much about leaving childish things behind as it is about reclaiming them.
