More than 15 years ago, I bought this white, chippy bureau at a yard sale and convinced myself it was shabby chic. I mean, it kind of was, back when shabby was chic. But as my friend once muttered under his breath, More like shabby crap, I began to think that yes, the less-than-white chippy-turned-chipping bureau with the faint outline of an angel applique was ready for a makeover. And then I let it sit in my bedroom for another few years.
But moving to my modern pad made it stick out like a sore bureau and demanded that I drag its bones (and it has excellent bones) into the current decade. This is the candidate:
Despite keeping and eye on the feline lest she leave paw prints on my shiny new paint job, Maple was curious about the whole endeavor and kept sneaking off upstairs to smell the paint. She’s weird like that. I, however, did not enjoy the smell of oil-based paint and slept with the windows open, which, in a New England October is crisp. The result: a freshly revived bureau that keeps my sweaters snug and warm; just don’t look at the makeup remover pads I put under each leg to protect the floor that are now irretrievably stuck to the bureau.