In the home of my dreams, I have the smartest mix of contemporary and vintage finds. This dream drives me into many a vintage shop and to the Brooklyn Flea when it opens up for the summer in my neck of the woods. But as much as I'd like to fancy myself a vintage maven, I really don't seem to be one. I come home with either something brand spanking new (e.g. last year's Claudia G. Pearson illustrations for my kitchen) or the teeniest experiment in vintage chic that won't quite transform my home any time soon (e.g. this year's tiny vintage book of American poetry).

But never say never, right? Who knows, I may still end up with that vintage chic home someday. In the meantime, a girl can always dreamily browse ...