My paramour. My inamorata. My one true love: Craigslist.
People say Craigslist is full of crap.
And? It is.
It’s totally full of junk and overpriced oak hutches from 1980.
However? Craigslist is also the source of all awesomeness. The hutches are just there to scare off the non-believers… To test your faith and weed out the heretics.
Craigslist is like an estate sale, an antique store, and trash night, all rolled into one and delivered to your house.
If you’re not monitoring Craigslist for your heart’s desire? You’re an idiot. And I LOVE that about you… because it leaves more for ME.
I have a siren in my head that reacts to anything old, broken, giant, gilded, Victorian, fancy, or generally too large to fit in my house… and when I saw this, it went crazy.
The text of the ad that’s cut off explains that the house is being renovated into apartments, (near one of Philadelphia’s university areas,) that the wardrobe is in excellent condition… and can be removed without damaging it.
It was Sunday morning, and the time-stamp on the Craigslist ad told me it had literally JUST posted. Clearly, a message from the universe.
I RAN downstairs. What Paul calls the Craigslist-charge. He claims that he can tell, by my footsteps, the degree to which his day has just been hijacked.
And I was like—WE HAVE TO GO GET THIS RIGHT NOW.
Paul said—are you… shaking?
And I was like, please. Stop speaking. Put your shoes on. Hurry.
If someone ELSE gets this I will NEVER get over it.
Paul said—Wait a minute. What is it?
And I was like—it’s the portal to Downton Abbey… It’s everything I ever wanted… it’s a MESSAGE from the UNIVERSE.
HURRY!!
Paul said—hang on… What are you planning to do with it?
And I was like— I’m going to… eh…. Uh? What?
Let’s take a sidebar here: What is THAT about?
YOU people know what I want to do with this. And you more or less JUST met me.
My husband, on the other hand, apparently doesn’t even live on my planet.
Did I not show him Pilar Guzman’s kitchen, seven hundred times? Do I strike you as the sort of person who would fail to communicate my heart’s desire?
So I was like—I’m going to put it in the kitchen.
K.i.t.c.h.e.n.
Let me speak SUPER slowly so you understand me.
KITCH-EN. Kitch…en. Kiiiiittttcccchhheeeennn.
The room with the stove?
And? Maybe you remember seeing my dream kitchen? SEVEN HUNDRED TIMES?
And maybe you can see that this is pretty much the universe manifesting what lives in my head?
In fact, it’s possible I AM CONTROLLING THE WORLD WITH MY MIND.
Apparently, Paul was not impressed with my world-bending mind tricks. Because he said— That is not going to fit in the kitchen. And I was like, oh really? How do you even know that?
He was like—sure, okay… so how tall is it? How long is it?
And I was like— I have no idea… it doesn’t say. But it doesn’t LOOK that big.
Paul was like, believe me. That is PLENTY big. The sink is maybe about three feet tall. And it’s about the same width, so let’s say it’s three feet wide… and in comparison, the side units are even wider, let’s say four feet each, so I’d say overall it’s between 11 and 12 feet long… which is too big for the kitchen.
What is with the savant-style measuring? That is beyond aggravating.
(For anyone who wants to keep score: the entire thing is 11′ 6″ long.)
It is good that I am so skilled at ignoring reality, in favor of what I want to believe… because if I weren’t, I would have to remember that Paul has never once been wrong about this kind of thing.
He had more questions too: How is it built into the wall? How does it come apart? What floor is it on? How will we get it out? WHERE are you going to put it?
I was like, do you not SEE what I am showing you?
Your questions are IRRELEVANT.
Did I somehow neglect to emphasize my wish for GIANT FANCY THINGS?
It doesn’t matter who, what, where, when, why.
If I keep it in the garage to store my gardening tools in, WHAT do you care?
Paul said– well, can you ask them how big it is?
And I was like, I’m sorry… but you KNOW I can’t do that. We can go there and LOOK at it, and then decide, but we have to GET there first.
Let me give you some advice about Craigslist. I’ve learned it the hard way: if you MUST have something… Do not make an offer, ask a question, or otherwise confuse the situation.
If you MUST have something, and that thing is a monster Victorian Eastlake wardrobe that every antique dealer and salvage company in Philadelphia will be after? Do not even ask how big it is.
If you want it no matter what? ALL you say is:
Hi,
I want that.
I can come anytime.
I can move it myself.
I don’t need your help.
Here is my phone number.
My social security number.
My bank account number.
To stand out from the 400 emails the seller is going to get, you have to be the one person who requires nothing. You have to be a beacon of simplicity and straightforwardness.
Now is the part where Paul says I MUST tell you how I misrepresented the ease with which this would be removed.
In my defense– the guy selling it TOLD me that he had his carpenter look at it. And the carpenter said— no problem. EASY.
All you need is a screwdriver.
Plus, I had backup… if you’ve been reading me for a while, you remember Bryan, our neighbor… the one who gave me the Asian dolls and used to be an antique dealer? Well, he and I have become friends… We are allies in the belief that opportunities like this are rare and must be seized.
He assured Paul that he had removed a couple of these when he was in business and that they really do come apart EASILY. That they are put together with dowels and some well-placed screws… It’s just a matter of figuring out which piece to start with.
Which, technically IS actually true.
So Paul just took a basic bucket of tools.
Basic. Not demolition.
We’d been there for about twenty minutes and Brian said— Wow! This is an unusual piece… I don’t know how they built this!! And the guy selling it said– yeah, I’m going to leave, call me if you figure it out…
Paul looked at me.
It was not the look of love.
It was the look that said—you have failed, on all fronts, to prepare me for this job, and I cannot believe I relied on you to accurately gauge the situation, and now I am in an unheated building with no tools or skilled assistants… I am surrounded by idiots.
After an entire hour, all we had done was remove the doors.
By that time, Paul was aggravated.
Which morphed into SUPER aggravated… when he finally figured out that the magic-keystone-starter-screw was on the BACK of the wardrobe.
The OUTSIDE of the back of the wardrobe.
Watching him realize that the back panel needed to come off first… AND that there was a WALL between him and that panel… and that all he had was a hammer and a flashlight…
I almost felt bad.
Almost.
But I am only the finder.
Paul is the getter.
I DID my part.
It turns out that Paul is like the James Bond of demolition.
James can blow up a car with a bottle cap and a pack of matches… But MY husband can take apart a wall with his bare hands and a hammer.
James? You have NOTHING on my husband.
Plus? James? You international man of mystery? My husband is totally more mysterious than you.
As we got further along, it became clear that the wardrobe was added after the house was built… it was brought in, in pieces, assembled, pushed against the existing wall, and then they built a false wall around it to make it appear built-in…
Paul is sure this was the wife’s idea… and that she and I would have gotten along just fine.
In case you’re thinking that Paul was getting some satisfaction from making progress… this photo should set you straight.
In fact, he may have used the phrase: fool’s errand.
This is hour three and a half…
By now it was COLD… The building is being renovated into apartments, and there was no heat.
Was anyone having a good time at this point?
Sure! I was!
Does this NOT look like a total party?
I tried to be helpful… and motivational… and point out the positives like how the wardrobe itself REALLY did come apart with JUST a screwdriver.
Also, I tried to tell Paul how MUCH I love him!!
How really, really, really, really, REALLY a LOT… I LOVE him.
Which I cannot say he appreciated…
Usually, if you tell your husband— I adore and worship you!! There is a base-level expectation of pleasantry in return… not the stone-faced response of—I will never ever, ever, ever do this again.
Which is a total lie!! We will DEFINITELY do this again.
We will do this as many times as Craigslist deems necessary.
Although, as it turns out… Paul was correct that it will not fit in the kitchen.
In fact, it nearly doesn’t fit in our house at all.
Literally—it barely clears the ceiling at the tallest fancy piece.
To repurpose it as kitchen cabinets, we would have to chop off six inches on both sides. And I don’t think I can do that. Even though it would solve all my kitchen problems. (Or create entirely new ones.) It’s too beautiful to destroy.
So it’s residing in our living room… the only room in the house with a wall long enough… we left out the center section to accommodate the window.
Does it make the room feel tiny? Yes.
Does it utterly destroy any kind of feng shui? Yes.
Did we have to remove 47 things that used to live in here? Yes.
Does it make ALL the other furniture the totally wrong choice? Yes.
Do we need a bigger house now? Clearly.
But it doesn’t matter. I LOVE it. If given the opportunity to get fifty more, I will.
When my baby brother Matt came over he was like— whoa… that’s… huge…
And I was like I KNOW.
He said– What is it?
And I told him– It’s the PORTAL TO DOWNTON ABBEY.
And he was like, one side, sure… but the other one definitely goes to Narnia.
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July 13, 2013 @ 3:18 pm
GREAT post. The best part is when you compare your husband to James Bond. I love that you appreciate him so much, and I can tell he totally loves you. So awesome. Glad you were able to make it work in your house. 🙂
July 13, 2013 @ 7:24 pm
This is vaguely reminiscent of the time we were invited to a church that was being dismantled by an ex-priest who told us to lie (unbelievably) and say we were from a poor church in rural Maine! In fact he had already told the story of the poor church folks coming to pick up the vestment cabinet and anything else they wanted to give us. We ended up leaving with not just the vestment cabinet but also the altar railing, vestments and altar cloths and as we were on our way out the door they tried to give us the shiny, gold, chalice! We were was lapsed Catholics with a big old inn in Maine. While I didn’t believe in hell any longer I was sure that if we took the chalice we be going there. The vestment cabinet had to be modified to fit in our inn and became a gorgeous centerpiece. The altar railing we sold to someone who was building a new bar in town so I may still be going south. Loved your blog and you remind me of me about 20 years ago! It’s great entertainment.
July 20, 2013 @ 1:42 pm
I’m SO lame that I cannot find the link to all the people who came to your “favorite find link party” so that I can see all the found gems! Are they in one place? I even went to April 9th via the archives box. The few other blogs I have followed have thumbnail photos in a grid that you simply click on. right after your post. I am a DEVOTED new follower to your blog, though, and my husband is reading your Craigslist wardrobe post right now and I can hear him laughing out loud!! Can someone PLEASE let me know where all the cool finds are hiding? I do notice that as I make my way through all the comments that you keep reminding people to link, but I am now so deep into your blogsite that I cannot find the party. Keep writing! I’m going to look at Craigslist next….
July 29, 2013 @ 8:35 am
Would you consider cutting the 12 inches out of the center section? I’m sure you could use the sink and sink base elsewhere in the room. This is a new blog for me. I am looking forward to reading your other posts.
July 29, 2013 @ 11:39 am
Noooooooo! Do NOT cut that beautiful wardrobe! It is drifting through time; your mission is to preserve it so it can continue its incarnations.
August 16, 2013 @ 7:06 pm
Just found your website and saw your hilarious blog on the gorgeous wardrobe. You must be a daughter I never knew. You’re hilarious. I’ve done the same thing finding unique pieces/antiques on Craigslist. Had to be the first to see them. Hubby is soooo patient. Found a beautiful three-part mirror several months ago that I broke my neck getting to it first. Knew it would be perfect when we remodeled our guest bath. Lo and behold, wouldn’t you know it … it was not perfect after seeing the granite and accessories. Back to square one. Thankfully, no problem. Relisted mirror on craigslist.com and sold it first day. Will enjoy following your blog.
August 19, 2013 @ 10:43 pm
Because you have about-faced my own kitchen design, converted me to worshipping pilar, and have had me spending HOURS looking for the equivalent to put into my own kitchen, I DEMAND you get this into your kitchen.
August 19, 2013 @ 10:59 pm
That beautiful piece should never, ever be cut. Doing so would be a small murder. Preserve it for its future lives.
August 29, 2013 @ 11:56 am
I absolutely LOVED reading this. Thank you so much for sharing these amazing stories. We might be embarking on our own renovation project of an 1898 house in a small town in VA so this is scaring me and inspiring me.
September 24, 2013 @ 11:05 pm
Thank you for sharing, I was laughing so hard I couldn’t breathe, I totally get you!
October 4, 2013 @ 2:00 pm
Oh you and I are kindred spirits! I’ve gotten that ‘look’ from my husband about 1,000 time! I’ve brought home a 12′ Armoire in the back of a station wagon, torn out carpeting on our front stairs (cause the dumb builder put carpet over beautiful hardwoods) tacks, carpet everywhere, he walks in, I get the ‘look’ he walks back out the door 😉 Needed his Truck for some cool find from a Flea Market and I tell him, really, it’s not that heavy?! I just sold my 1980’s China Hutch to a lovely young couple that liked Cherry and glass (yuck) and bought a huge antique hutch off Craig’s List for only $400 bucks! I was lucky the sellers husband was a landscape contractor and hauled it over in his trailer, my husband just shook his head on that one…I once ordered a big, wrought iron gate for our front walkway (from Arizona) that I made him install. I also told him I loved him and rubbed Ben Gay on his back that evening! I totally get it!
October 5, 2013 @ 4:25 pm
I have to show this to my boyfriend because he will love this piece just as much as you, and laugh as hard at your story as I did. Love this!
October 8, 2013 @ 5:54 pm
Ok, so it’s been six months since you posted. Six months of living with a gorgeous piece and figuring out if you want to (a) cut it down (b) swap out your kitchen and living room or (c) move…unless you’ve still got it in your living room. Any insight into which way you’re going with this?
I know. It’s sorta like a stranger asking when you’re gonna start a family – personal and all. BUT so many of us have forged into territory like this. How did YOU handle it?
Oh, by the way, my carpenter buddy says that you *can* re-size the top decorative carvings if you cut down the sides. The real challenge is remaking the doors to fit. But if it ends up being a kitchen piece, my guess is you’d make new cabinet doors anyway.
Of course, I want to *lengthen* the center section and use the whole thing as a headboard with flanking closets…
October 8, 2013 @ 5:59 pm
Again. I must say this again: That fabulous piece has floated down through time in perfect condition and picked you because it knew you would save it. Your job is to be its protector and keep it basically intact so that it can continue its journey through “life.” Do NOT cut it!
November 7, 2013 @ 8:41 pm
You are my HERO!!! I loved every word of this, I felt every emotion, and I’m so happy to have found your blog! It is the best one EVER!!
November 23, 2013 @ 3:03 am
LOVE IT LOVE IT LOVE IT!
I imagine you now realise I love this 🙂 – it is precisely what I try to do with all things “old and unwanted” Well done for having the vision (and husband) to reveal the awesomeness of this stunning robe… in all my years as a renovation-tragic I’ve only seen a handful of people who do this.
Blown away
Thanks
Steve Ansell (Australia)
December 12, 2013 @ 3:21 pm
I have to tell you…. my husband just texted me and asked…. “remember that crazy article you sent me 6 months ago about that lady that had that HUGE furniture? I have to send it to a friend who is letting his wife redecorate.” LOL!
January 10, 2014 @ 10:31 pm
I just found you through Miss Mustard Seed, and I think that your Downton Abbey portal is the best find ever!!! I’m currently under a husband-requested CraigsList furniture buying ban. 🙂 Reading your posts, I feel like you could be my BFF- only you’re actually way funnier than I am! So glad to have found your blog!!!
February 19, 2014 @ 12:08 pm
Okay!!! I had to check, but didn’t I see this piece for sale on ebay???? In York, Pa? (I have actually been there!!! 40 years ago! Trapped in Houston now :-c !!) I am sorry it didn’t work out for you because it really is a magnificent piece!!! Thanks for being such a zany person…we need more of this in the world!!! E.
February 25, 2014 @ 12:06 pm
OK… I adore Paul. Just because he’s obviously crazy about you! And I wish you were my neighbor. You are so fun/funny/lovely!
April 24, 2014 @ 6:14 pm
I didn’t have time to read all of the comments, so someone may have already stated this. How wide is the top center piece? Because that is where I would cut it so I could get it in the kitchen. I figured you weren’t going to use the sink portion, (at least not in the kitchen!), so it would be okay if the middle was narrow…IF it is wide enough to lose 12 inches! While it looks amazing in your living room, it was SO made for your dream kitchen!
May 18, 2014 @ 11:52 pm
Hey! I loved to read it! You have a fun way of describing the adventure!! I’m from Brazil, and I’m definitely following your blog from now on! sadly we don’t have this very same culture of recycling in here, much less a craigslist that works… anyway that was really fun to read! congrats on your find!