Seventies Souveniers

The seventies called. They'd like back their bold graphics, wicker furniture, earthy color palette, and ultra mod tulip tables and chairs. 

But most of all, the feel-good decade wants to talk to us about our houseplants. 

^ This grouping came together organically over the last week. I planned almost nothing, but sometimes a lack of intention is for the best. 

Now, not gonna lie. I grew up in the seventies. And I can vouch for which reinterpreted trends are genuine and true, versus those that are inauthentic reinterpretations of the true fashions of the day.

The houseplant thing is totally legit.

^ This earthy-hued rough and rumpled ceramic pot literally screams the seventies. 

Kinda like Joe Cocker. 

And even more so, plants in earthy, free-form hand-thrown pots. Full of hippie style imperfections, as if they had been formed on the commune's pottery wheel.

Back in the day, I had many, many such pots.

My bedroom window was lined with six or seven hanging pots, the trailing greenery transforming my space into a personal Eden. Looked so far out. 

Okay, so maybe IKEA's ubiquitous white ceramic planters and a marble find from the thrift shop are not exactly icons of the seventies. But can't you just feel the eclectic earthiness?

I bought most of my pottery pieces at the Ann Arbor Art Fair. Back in those days, it was a small annual event, tying up an handful of streets on a July weekend, and attended mostly by offbeat creative types.  Prices were low, choices were many, and my mom and I stuck out like a pair of sore thumbs as we boogied up and down the rows of stalls, shopping for treasures. 

Another recent thrift store find, the opening in this smooth white orb is slighly slanted and off-center, which totally speaks of mod and groovy space-age design, as well as Major Tom to Ground Control.

Few of my hanging pots still survive. Actually, at least five made it to the new millenium, safely stored in the attic. But somewhere in the past decade I brought them down and hung them outside, where the elements slowly destroyed them, one at a time. So bogue. 

Alas. I'm pretty sure I still have one of those old pots, returned to a safe hiding place in the garage, hidden for posterity. 

^ Houseplants have fallen in and out of fashion since at least the 1920s, but for me, they will always define mid-century modern. 

Happily, there are also a few groovy relics stashed in the house. A big bowl that has served salads for decades, and a little covered dish for keepsakes. . 

^ Hello, cactus. How do you feel about Three Dog Night?

But even though my little collection of plants and containers are not exact replicas of the lot from my childhood, they definitely capture the heart and soul of my psychedelic seventies. 

^ Well, they might not be hand-thrown pots hanging at my bedroom window, but this little grouping throws me right back to my childhood, every time I walk by the table. 

And that makes me super happy. Can you dig it?