The Lives We Lead, No. 1

There’s charm in the unexpected, creative uses of everyday objects. People’s casual spaces—their homes, their yards, and sometimes their workspaces—are often expressions of how they live. At the foundation is their taste, a reflection of who they want to be and how they wish to be seen. But that is often tempered by reality. Budgets and circumstance dictate what objects are brought in. Daily rituals and habits shape how the objects are used and where they are placed. Life’s demands leave scuffs and marks that give mass-produced objects a unique identity. And slowly, these become reflections of the people who live amongst the objects.

Years ago, in my childhood, my grandparents’ coat tree was used as intended. It was a place for coats. The sturdy wooden frame held carefully pressed blazers and tailored jackets on typical days. It became draped with piles of outerwear and scarves, purses and sweaters, a medley of warmth and textures when guests arrived. Even though it wasn’t the closest spot to the front door, it served as a transition spot off the entry vestibule, a pause before guests made their way into the rooms of the house.

These days, there are less guests and also less reasons for my grandparents to head outdoors. The coatrack evolved into a convenient home to hang infrequently used objects: hats, bags of knick-knacks, sometimes walking canes. I’m not sure when the chair was added. Perhaps it was originally meant to be a perch for putting on shoes. Now it’s a fancy shelf for an assortment of paper goods stacked behind baskets, boxes, and trays. Food often makes a temporary stop here in various stages of ripening, drying, or curing. It’s still a great tree from which to hang objects, even if the objects are no longer coats.