Who doesn't love OLD quilts? Nothing says comfort like a "bankie" that has been well loved!
I look, touch and admire them everywhere they are displayed or are for sale. It's an art form that is intentionally created to be hugged. There are several stored away at our house, some thrown over chairs and one hung to brighten that dead space above the washing machine. I make quilts, read about them, envision news ones at fabric shops and try to get down to Houston once a year to the annual huge "over the top-only for quilt addicts" International Quilt Festival. I've given quilts away, entered quilt contests and shows and once took a bus trip to Paducah, Kentucky to compare stitches with those ladies there. They are magnets for fabricaholics and those that like to put tiny puzzle pieces together.
Again, I repeat, the OLDER the better.
Old quilts are worn, wrinkly, tattered around the edges and usually have one or two permanent stains. They have embraced babies, comforted new moms, warmed the injured and shielded hurt feelings from the cruelty of the world. They contain stories that no one will hear but that a lively imagination can sense. There is wisdom gained through age interwoven with the binding around the edge. They are all different, made from cloth that once held flour or perhaps clothed a small little girl. The colors were vivid at one time but that was long ago.
Sometimes they are found at flea markets, stored in dusty attics, or displayed at expensive boutiques. The ones that are appreciated the most are priced well beyond the normal budget.
Some things age very nicely.
I'd better remind Honeybuns that I have a birthday this week!