Agedness or Pimping up Stan

KIPPOLATA
Apr 15, 2015
4 min read

We have become proper grown ups. Not only have we bought a house, bought a family friendly car, had a baby and my husband has grown a beard, (all pictured above), but last month we actually went to a carpet shop. The last time I did this was with my parents as a kid. Twenty years later, the experience is still as boring and still has the same gluey smell. The only difference is that this time we had to pay money in exchange for the worst trip out ever. Our conversations ever since have been about how much warmer the landing is now and how the pile feels lovely under foot.

We may be getting old. I fear the next stop involves tena lady.

One good thing about house owning is doing up rooms and getting to paint stuff, this we have been doing with much enjoyment. Andrew also bought a drill and a tool box, further proof of age.

I draw a lot. Some people read, (I freaking hate reading...unless it's of excellent blogs online obviously), Some people collect cats, some people, I hear, collect cat fur balls and weave them into place mats...whatever floats ya tug boat, I doodle. Like the very best kind of old hoarder lady, I feel quite attached to my scribblings, hoping that one day one of them will make me my millions. This has resulted in lots of paper. Now we are no longer living out of boxes, I need somewhere for it all to go. I felt that a trip to a junk shop would be an excellent way of reducing our clutter. While there, I nearly bought the best 'monkey in a fez' cigar lighter I have ever seen, but that's another story.

Instead I bought Stan.

Old, jaded, forgotten, neglected, Stan. This once clean shaven, respectable, fully working, hansom devil of a chest of drawers now creaked and became awkward when his drawers were pulled, His once fancy knobs now fell off when performing the only job they were designed for. I saw some of myself in Stan and at ten quid, how could I resist his charms?

Placed in a very undignified manner, upside down in the passenger seat with one corner leant on the remains of a sausage roll on the car floor (it was in a paper bag! I'm not that bad!) we would take him home and paint the living daylights out of him to the point where, if he was a real person, he would be too ashamed to leave the house.

This blog post initially started as a very sensible crafty 'how to' affair where I explained what I did to tart Stan up . When I read it back, it was so utterly boring and common sense to the point of patronising that I deleted the lot so if you want to know the DIY bit then here is the science.....concentrate, if you can be arsed.

Knobs: (snigger) sanded and sprayed with car paint (available at Halfords) think the colour was cafe noir or something. The knobs (titter) needed longer screws (giggle) to hold them on so they didn't come off in your hand. Even that sounds like a euphemism....enough on knobs.

The drawers (haha! titter! sorry, I can't help it!), pick the most damaged one, sand it lightly (DIY purists will tell you that you need to sand it thoroughly, but depending on how much use the item will get, I wouldn't bother). Leave one drawer at least with just the natural wood, in my opinion if you paint them all it starts to look like a party ring biscuit and it's nice to leave some of the original-ness behind. Less is totally more in all things (except eating and taxpaying and booze for that matter). In fact the more I think about it, less is hardly ever more, but less was more here I think.

Scratch fix:

Forget expensive pens and glosses for fixing scratches, nail varnish, clear obviously, not Elton John purple, does the trick, but do it neatly.

Before and After: Once an evil cat's muse, Stan is now like the shiny bald head of a coot.

There was one mucky stain on Stan and from the look of the shop I bought him from, I dread to think how it got there. I decided to cover it in the end with a block of colour. I tried to draw chevrons on, total mistake. If you are anal and were one of those kids who used to double underline everything with a red biro and a ruler, you know the ones I mean, then knock yourself out. I was never that kid as you can see by the wobbly lines below.

Never fear, 3 coats of pink is here.

Oh Stan, where have you been? Above: The suspect stain before and after and after again.

Jobs a goodun, I give you the new sexy STAN! He no longer smells of sandwiches from the 70s and is ready once more to support a doily.

If I'm honest one of his knobs still falls off. I think it's just too far gone. A sobering reminder of the finite nature of life. He is however at least 60 and done up as he is, I feel he has pure scmooooz. I plan on looking this gordy and then some when I am 90.