Friday evening, my Mom (Bruce was her brother) called to say that Denis was clearing out Bruce’s home and the family had taken everything they wanted so if we could possibly help out by taking whatever we wanted, they’d really appreciate it. Whatever no one wanted would be donated to Goodwill or some other charity that could use it.
I was under the impression that we’d be sorting out some leftover clothes. Bruce wasn’t a very big guy and I couldn’t imagine his clothes fitting any of my sons but I wanted to see his place and it’s always fun to see the cousins; Denis and Susie would both be there. So I said I’d tag along.
I threw some money in my purse so afterwards we could hit some sales if there were any promising ones in the neighborhood.
I seriously underestimated what we’d find at Bruce’s place.
Either he was a hoarder or his kids just didn’t need much.
The place was filled with lovely furniture, tons of books, DVDs, a fully stocked kitchen and two bedrooms packed with furniture and clothes.
Let me be clear; Bruce had impeccable taste and could afford the best. He liked antiques, Fred Astaire and really, really high end clothes.
Susie and Denis were glad to see us. Susie is in the midst of getting rid of all her stuff and relocating overseas, so she couldn’t use any of her Dad’s stuff. Denis lives on the West Coast and was only taking a few pieces of furniture. The rest was free to a good home.
Mom had told me that Bruce had a lot of art but I hadn’t expected his taste to run so close to mine. Immediately I put dibs on a large, colorful watercolor that I think a friend had painted for Bruce as payment for a favor. There was a lovely note tucked into a pocket behind the frame that indicated such. In short order I added a big, framed poster of Fred Astaire, a large Rembrandtesque landscape and a beautifully rendered pencil drawing of a woman. I thank my lucky stars I was the first person into the living room. Mom and MJ were still in the kitchen when I ascertained that no one else wanted two large, gorgeous and outrageously comfortable chairs.
I got my Christmas decorations down the other day and when I looked around my bare living room I thought (for about the 10,000th time) it would be so great if I had a big, comfy arm chair next to my book case for reading. Over the years I’ve found a few chairs that would look great and were pretty nice to sit in but either were too expensive or not quite…I never pulled the trigger.
There, in Bruce’s living room, was a big, beautiful wing back chair in great condition, upholstered in a deep terra cotta velvet that looked like it was made for my living room. It even had a footstool.
Dibs!
Under a pile of books was another chair. This one was like nothing else I’ve ever seen. It had a carved wood frame and was upholstered in a pale, greenish leather. It looked really cool. I sat in it. The back curved like a club chair and the tufted leather felt great. The seat was springy and deep. The wide, polished wooden arms were carved at an angle that exactly matched the way my arms wanted to rest. The wood was smooth and curved in a way that made me want to rub it. The longer I sat in it, the more comfortable it became.
I think it may be the greatest piece of furniture ever made. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out it wasn’t made at all but grown in some magic furniture forest that only rich people with perfect taste are allowed to know about.
Dibs.
There were also two beautiful brass floor lamps which I could definitely use and while I was falling in love with chairs, MJ grabbed a lovely little chest with a dozen tiny drawers with drop pulls and painted detailing on the sides and top.
Upstairs, beneath a pile of linens, I found a loveseat for our porch.
We used to have a very comfortable love seat out there that was just big enough for three of us to squeeze onto to watch movies together. It was possibly the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen but it was comfy. Jay got rid of it last spring while I was out of town. It had grown so dirty that it was not just ugly but ugly and gross. I didn’t mourn it’s loss. In the month since, we’ve looked for loveseats but we didn’t find any we loved that were affordable and would fit in the space.
The one in Bruce’s spare bedroom was small enough to fit through the door (of course I had my tape measure with me. I keep it in my purse!), was in good condition and very comfortable. It’s a pretty little thing with a camel back, small rolled arms and carved wooden feet. It’s upholstered in gold velvet. It’s too formal for the porch but I don’t care. It’s beautiful, it fits and I could afford it. Heck, the porch can stand to be a little fancier.
Nothing in the rest of the house prepared me for Bruce’s wardrobe.
First of all, the furniture in the bedroom was as great as the rest of the house but spoken for. All my Mom’s siblings learned at their mother’s knee to shop antique and estate sales for beautiful, well made furniture. Everything in our house growing up, my Mom bought at estate sales and refinished herself. Bruce probably got his stuff at antique shops. I can’t see him stripping a chair and staining it himself although I have no doubt that he knew how.
But the clothes took my breath away.
I feel a bit stupid admitting that. Bruce had always been a snappy dresser. He always looked good and even I could tell at a glance that he only wore the best.
But seeing it all in one place knocked the wind out of me.
It’s not that his closet was so big, it really wasn’t. It’s the volume of clothes he had in it and the quality of the items themselves that knocked me backwards. The only reason I could comprehend it at all was that Bruce was so well organized. Sweaters and pullovers up on the shelf, pants on one side of the closet, shirts and jackets on the other and everything was lined up according to season and color.
Bruce’s taste was classic, not trendy. If he needed a blue sport coat, he bought one in a fabric and cut that would never go out of style. If he had one, he had seven, all with different detailing and tailoring. He definitely subscribed to the idea that if you found something you liked, buy it in every color. As long as the color was subdued, classy and looked good on you.
Bruce wasn’t gay but he would have killed if he were.
A large dresser with shallow drawers was in the closet. The top drawer was completely filled with silk pocket squares.
The second drawer was nothing but socks.
Not terribly interested in his undies, I turned my attention to the large chest of drawers next to the bed. It had only three very deep drawers. They were all packed I mean packed with cashmere sweaters.
I picked out only the blue ones; pale blue, cerulean blue, dark and navy blue, leaving the tans, browns, cream and yellows to people who can wear warm tones. When I got down to the silky turtlenecks under the sweaters, I turned to survey my pile.
It was two feet deep on the bed.
And I’d only unpacked the first drawer.
By this time, Mom had called Joe to bring whichever of his sons were available to come help us move furniture. Bruce was of a slighter build than Joe so I didn’t think his clothes would fit.
I was dead wrong.
Joe showed up with Hootie, who is at least six inches taller than Bruce had been. Hootie found a ton of shirts and pullovers that fit him beautifully.
Denis told us that although his Dad wasn’t a big guy, he had freakishly long arms.
Joe discovered that at some point in his life, Bruce had been exactly the size Joe is now.
“My only problem,” Joe told me, showing me the dozen or so dress shirts that he was taking home, “Is that there’s never been a day in my life when I was hip enough to pull off a look like Bruce could.”
“Well, it’s time you learned.” I told him. In addition to the shirts, he found at least five nice, dress sport coats too. The guy who entered the house not owning a single decent tie left with several gorgeous blazers, including a camel colored cashmere jacket and a summer weight linen sport coat.
And the ties…holy cow, the ties.
Bruce kept his ties on two long racks attached to the door of his room. If you didn’t shut the bedroom door behind yourself, you could easily miss them which would be a shame.
I’ll bet there were over 150 ties. Like the rest of his clothes, they were not trendy or splashy but classic, timeless and perfect. Most were silk although he had some that were clearly for less formal outfits. Some were linen or something else that I have no idea where one would wear them but Bruce knew. Again, if he found something he liked, he bought it in every color. There was a beautiful silk with a fine stripe going through it; Bruce had that tie in cream, tan, bronze and brown. He had every iteration of red/blue stripe imaginable. He had the same tie in three different widths so that whatever fashion prevailed, he was prepared. A few of the ties had muted, elegant patterns but most were power stripes. I grabbed a few for Jay, who always likes a good tie. I would have taken some pocket squares for Jay but most of them were patterned and I couldn’t see Jay pulling them off the way Bruce could.
Bruce didn’t neglect his feet either. I knew he liked good shoes. When we went to Paris, he warned us that good shoes were a necessity. He showed me his walking shoes. I looked up the brand. The pair he’d had on were well over $200.00. Turns out he had at least two pair of them. They fit my Mom. Joe found a pair of work boots and a few pairs of dress shoes that fit. Most of Bruce’s shoes were too narrow for us Broadfoots but one of Joe’s boys has the exact same shoe size. Vince will be the best shod eighth grader in the twin cities.
Jay loves shoes. I tease him for having four pair of black dress shoes that I can’t even tell apart. He would have wept if he’d seen Bruce’s shoes. A dozen pairs in black; at least four pairs of wing tips, several pairs that tied, slip ons, loafers, some with tassels some without. Nearly every style was also represented in brown, tan and mahogany. All the shoes were perfectly lined up according to color, with wooden shoe trees in every one. Bruce insisted on the best and he knew how to take care of it. Under the dresser we found sandals and even an ancient pair of haraches.
Back downstairs as the boys began to fill the back of my van and Mom’s SUV with furniture, I found a beautiful little smoking cupboard, similar to the one Gater gave Jay for Christmas a few years ago. I had to have it. No one had claimed a wonderful green wooden book case with ball feet, either. We tucked that into the van as well.
It took three trips to get all the furniture back to MJ’s and my house. We still haven’t gotten all Mom’s stuff out to her; a low chest of drawers is still in the back of my van. By 6:30, I’d missed Jay’s game and was just too exhausted to drive out to Minnetonka to deliver it. It’ll get there.
I went to Bruce’s thinking I’d spend an hour packing up some shirts and have plenty of time to get some work done before heading over the river to see the Tommies play.
Seven hours later, I’d missed lunch, the game and hadn’t seen the inside of my office but I had a new loveseat, two chairs, two brass floor lamps, a bookcase, a smoking cupboard, a dozen new pullovers and cashmere sweaters, two bathrobes, four works of art and the fifth season of Foyle’s War. That would have qualified as the best estate sale ever.
But it was all free.
I’ll think of Uncle Bruce whenever I look at the art on my walls or the gorgeous furniture, just like I think of Uncle Pat whenever I look at the lovely things he gave me and I think of their mother, my Nana, whenever I wear the jewelry she gave me.
Heirlooms are wonderful things.