From the Archives
Author's note: This is part of a new series of articles for four Saturdays this rainy (in this part of the world) season. Here, we will be re-blogging archived DIYs posted on the first Kaeratana blog from days of yore and dedicating them to our lovely new friends. This particular post was first published on 20th October 2013. Happy reminiscing!
I grew up in a house where I think there were more books than clothes. And there were 7 of us... People share books; clothes, not so much. So you'd think that would be pretty much one set of books versus seven sets of clothing. But our books still easily outnumbered the latter. We didn’t not have enough clothes, we just had too many books. We had them everywhere.
In the eyes of a six year old who has, happily, only ever lived in one household, this becomes the norm. Until she detects a hint of resemblance between her house and the school library, and then pyjama parties with a friend from kindergarten and realizes that wall shelves could also actually hold Barbies.
The lack of choice was probably a factor (no, I'm not complaining), but me and my brothers and sisters grew up to love books. It physically hurts me when I see or read about books being misused or abused. I love books so much I would marry books collectively if I could.
Recent and chic-portable technological advancements have made buying hard copies of books redundant and eco-unfriendly, but a few things like late digital releases and good old gift-giving have kept them from being obsolete.
If I can buy soft, I usually do. But I still get books as gifts (nerd) and if I’ve been waiting for a book and it hits the shelves way before it does Amazon, I grab it (EQ malfunction). My school books in fashion school also best serve me in their printed form. I also have a few paperbacks from when I didn’t have a tablet or a smartphone and I still also enjoy the thrill of hunting old and collector editions sold for peanuts at the thrift shop. So given all that, I still have racked up quite a few books.
But that’s already proving to be chaos more than my small flat could handle. Everything is not organized by color, by genre, by size, by author, by field of study... Okay, I give up.
School, George R. R. Martin and, if lucky, more birthdays all say that this beautiful mess is just going to get bigger so I decided I had to do something about it. And I know I said I would marry them (and I would for all that they are) but I figured it also wouldn’t hurt to give myself more room (literally).
And this is the part where the internet comes to the rescue.
I fell in love with a lot of the ideas but in the end, I went for simplicity and uniformity – two of my selective OC self’s favorite characteristics and the reasons I will never become a movie star. With vigor, I immediately went to work. I wrapped my books in ethereal white and at once felt a sense of calm... I fell most in love with white again, it’s guilelessness and effortless splendor... With every book, I hear it whisper in a silky voice the words beauty, sophistication and enchantment.
Okay, it was easiest to do.
No books were harmed during the making and documentation of this project.
Credits | The 15 Most Horrific Crafting Abuses Ever Committed Against Books. Buzzfeed DIY | That “Old Book Smell” Is a Mix of Grass and Vanilla. Smithsonian.