I am drawn to anything vintage or antique. There is something about owning things that are older than I am that I find appealing. Items hold history. They tell a story of a different time and they also hold the memories of the other people who owned them.
There are certain things that I particularly like. Vintage postcards (especially if there is a message written on them), old photographs, cameras, typewriters, buffets, vanities, ash trays, records and record players, chairs, anything from the 50s or 60s, lamps, desks, clothes and jewelry, metal serving trays, and stained glass windows in wooden frames. While I admire all of these things, I try not to own more than I can fit in my car so I very rarely buy them. The only things I really collect are vintage cameras, but in my room I have an antique desk, a 1950s telephone table, and a glass lamp probably from the 60s or 70s.
I bought this typewriter for $20 in a thrift store today. As soon as I saw it I had to have it. I can only imagine where it came from, who bought it, where they bought it, why they bought it, and what kinds of things they typed with it. Love letters, Dear John letters, resumes, formal requests, applications, school papers, essays, maybe a novel. I'll never know, but that's part of the charm. Whoever owned this typewriter took very good care of it. There is hardly a scratch on it. But I can tell that it is well used. All the paint is worn off around the nob on the right side that you turn to advance the paper. Someone was doing a lot of typing.
Now, how did this cute little typewriter end up sitting in a thrift store full of crap? There was seriously nothing but old, broken, dirty junk in this place. It was a disgusting mess in there. But, sitting on a table was this typewriter. I think maybe it was meant to be mine.