This modest little island – Nantucket – may not have the glamorous storied past of its sister island Martha’s Vineyard with its Presidential visits and star sitings galore, but it sure knows how to flirt. From your first step off the boat or onto the tarmac she draws you into her alluring embrace. The wink and glint of the sun off the water, the salty perfumed air, mingled with the sweet smell of Rosa Ragusa, and so begins the indelible impression she will leave.
Centre Point . 28 Centre Street, Nantucket
Cape Cod may have my heart, but Nantucket has my soul. Wandering the cobblestone streets, narrow, uneven, meandering – you bare witness to the island’s whaling history, to its architectural simplicity, and its secret gardens. The trellised roses, the hydrangea, the daisies, between the fragrant breeze and the swaying of the sea grass – its downright hypnotic.
Now you all that have been following along for some time now, know that I am a shopper. I am an addict. I have a deep and shamefully, uncontrolled desire to acquire beautiful things. It’s true. I thought in the past that by coming clean I would being a process of recovery — NO! That hasn’t worked. They may need to try shock therapy on me next.
I have worked to restrain myself, but the baubles and benches, and brass mirrors, the brushed cotton covered slipper chairs, and bent wood mid-century tables – the unending array of beautiful things – ah, they lure me back in, whittle their way into my dreams, and no amount of resisting will work once that happens. It’s destiny. See how deep seated this problem of mine is.
I am working on it, and have decided that if you all help me by snapping up some of the amazing things I find along the way, I can console myself with the knowledge that your home will be made more special with something I helped you discover.