I am a fraud.

Well that got your attention.

This time of year, I am completely awestruck by creativity. Lights, glitter, decorating, more glitter. Cozy vignettes. More glitter. This time of year speaks to my soul. I had plans to decorate way before Thanksgiving. The day after Halloween (which I fully embraced), I was ready to douse my home in pinecones and white lights. I tried every day but just couldn’t. I scoured Pinterest and Facebook for inspiration. I found hundreds of pictures of people’s homes that were picture perfect. Perfectly staged flocked Christmas trees with just enough vintage decorations and a nicely placed tobacco baskets with a magnolia wreath. The decorations of my dreams. As I shifted through my bins – a mix of Dollar Tree treasures, my mom’s hand me-downs and random finds HomeGoods, I became overwhelmed . Then the thoughts flooded in.

“How will I stage these?”

“These do not look like anything that’s out there at the moment.”

“I have enough glitter to overpower a drag queen.”

So I did what any rational person would do and sat in my cold garage and stared at the bins. Nothing seemed perfect enough. I wanted this Christmas to be special. Picture perfect.

This time last year my little world started to disintegrate. I went through an awful breakup right before the holidays. I had just started my company and tried to laser focus on that but the passion just wasn’t there. I made it through the most wonderful time of the year only to have my mom diagnosed with cancer (stay with me because there is a silver lining). Fast forward a year. I reunited with my love and my mom is now cancer free. Which was why I wanted everything to be perfect. I wanted the company I started to be perfect for everyone. But that’s not me. And that’s not life.

I started this company because of my obsession with old things. I am a self proclaimed history nerd. I’ve have loved antiques since my parents surrounded me with them at an early age. I’m never going to be perfect. I’ll never have a perfectly staged white home (mainly due to a chunky black cat who rearranges everything) and the fact that I’m a hot mess. Organized chaos as my mom calls it. So I’m going back to why I started Oak City Vintage. To tell stories about the makers. The creatives. The history. To offer treasures I find along the way.

And to keep being perfectly imperfect.