You, baby, are a trendsetter.
You’re ahead of the curve. Leading the way. Way out in front.
Yep. You’re at the vanguard of international stylesetters.
And I bet you didn’t even know it.
You, baby, are a trendsetter.
I’m going out on a limb with this assessment but it’s not much of a limb. If you know how to dial a rotary phone, drive stick shift, and can name all the characters from The Waltons – “Good night, John-Boy” – you’ve probably stumbled smack dab into the middle of the hottest design trend of the moment. You – you trendsetter, you! – are an inadvertent proponent of the latest vogue.
Grandpa Chic. That’s the trend that’s set the design world on fire at the moment. In a nutshell, Grandpa Chic is just the stuff you accumulated over the years. Good stuff. Real stuff. Serviceable stuff. Stuff they just don’t make anymore these days. Like that mahogany Georgian dining table you blew your savings on back in the ‘80s, the walnut credenza you scored at an auction, the well-worn oriental carpet you inherited from your in-laws. Stuff that’s stood the test of time. Happen to have a stack of your mom’s Royal Albert Petit Point bone china? Yo’ so fresh! Maybe you acquired your parent’s original Hans J. Wegner wishbone chairs? Lucky you! First Dibs shows a set of eight listed for $17,855.00. If you pooh-poohed those chairs when your parents tried to foist them on you a decade ago, the joke’s on you now.
So, it would appear that common sense has finally prevailed. The next generation has been reminded that true sustainability lies within finding value within the things we already own. Tossing out perfectly good pieces of furniture so as to jump on a style bandwagon is so … so, five minutes ago. And perhaps there’s something morally suspect about constantly trying to erase your trail and adopt a new persona? I mean, just who are you, really, if you’ve been French Country, English Country; Santa Fe, Santa Cruz; Shabby Chic, Sleek Chic; Maximalist, Minimalist …?
Sustainability is at the very core of Grandpa Chic. It’s the opposite of fast fashion, which is generally regarded as one of the worst culprits in environmental issues. Grandpa Chic decor will feature furniture that’s been in the family for generations. Much of it will be – ahhh, luxury! – handmade and not mass produced. It will also feature artisanship that shames the simplistic two by four plank dining tables that were the recent rage.
Sustainability is at the very core of Grandpa Chic.
Now, to be fair to the interior design folks, Grandpa Chic isn’t about a threadbare La-Z-Boy and a basket of knitting beside the sofa. If you want to pull off this design trend at its highest expression, you’ll probably need to paint the walls some hip colour and maybe reupholster the dining room chairs in something unexpected. Ideally, you’ll choose a plant or animal-based fibre like wool or linen … or better yet, repurpose the fabric from those old suits mouldering in the closet.
It escaped my attention, and maybe yours, too, but last year’s hot trend was described as Coastal Grandma Chic. Basically, it was all your old stuff painted white or upholstered in shades of white. To complete the look, you’d probably need a bowl full of beach glass somewhere, but other than that, it was just your old stuff disguised under plenty of white.
My favourite design trend goes by the name of Italian Grandma Chic. That’s where the kitchen is racked with unpolished copper pots, there’s a basket festooned with Corriere della Sera newspapers in the living room as well as a tricycle parked in the foyer.
… Italian Grandma Chic …
These trends extend beyond home decor. The global trends and insights lead for Pinterest says that inquiries into Grandpa and Grandma Chic are booming. Cardigans, brooches, clip-on button earrings, loafers, and cat glasses rank highly on Gen Z and millennials must-have lists these days.
That’s Will Geer – Grandpa Walton – at the top of the photo.
So, common sense has shown its noble face. But it’s kind of a shame that Will Geer – Grandpa Walton – didn’t live long enough to have enjoyed becoming a style icon.
This week’s question for readers:
ARE YOU ROCKING GRANDPA CHIC? WHAT DRIVES YOUR DECOR?
Leave your Comments below!
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Submissions to last week’s question:
WHAT’S YOUR BEST AND/OR WORST SNOW DAY MEMORY?
Teaching in Alexis Creek west of Williams Lake we did not have snow days we had cold days. I would watch the temperature go below Minus 30 and know, no bus running, no school today, go back to bed.
John Pringle
One winter day while driving on a winding interior highway, I lost control on a curve and spun off the road and into a lake. After the swirling had stopped and I was floating quietly outward, I realized what had happened and immediately pushed the button and lowered the driver side window. Luckily, the water had not yet reached the electrical wiring. I swam to shore and two hunters in a truck pulled over to greet me. They happened by just before my car sank and was still floating in the lake. They gave me a warm jumpsuit and drove me to the nearest hospital. This is my worst snow day memory, but my lucky stars were all aligned on that day.
Les Vogt
Snow tires or not, I elect just to stay off the roads when it snows. It doesn’t matter how well you think you can drive in snow, there’s always someone who has no idea what they’re doing. Even if the City doesn’t snow plough your street, it never lasts long … but the insurance claims and increased premiums and deductibles seem to stick around forever.
Beverly W.
Somehow I’ve managed to escape the downsides of ‘snow days’. I still get that school kid thrill when I wake to find a paralyzing snow has fallen overnight. It’s quiet, it’s beautiful, it’s full of potential. One fond memory involves – of all things – shoveling the front walk. I’m sure ours was at least 60 feet long and dad said it had to be cleared before the mailman came. My school-teacher mom was also home for the day and I enlisted her help in creating a tortuous path that wound back and forth across our lengthy, boring cement path, making the route twice as long as it needed to be. Even the mailman’s big footprints ignoring our scenic route didn’t dampen the joy of this snow day adventure. I miss the Okanagan snow and my fun-loving mom.
June Macdonald
My siblings and I grew up in Montreal which gets a heck of a lot of snow. In all our school years, we cannot recall a single snow day where the school was closed. We would dress warmly in our wool snowsuits, complete with scarves wrapped around mouth and forehead, mitts, toques and walk both ways, as did all our friends. The school was about a mile away. The only day we actually missed a day of school, our Mother kept us home as it was a minus 40 degrees Farenheit outside.
Now that I live in Vancouver, I still have to shovel snow most winters, but it usually melts quickly and I no longer have to go to school!
Claire Robertson
On a snowy day In the early 1970s, when I went to a one room schoolhouse at Green Lake BC, our teacher decided to take the whole school (about 10 kids!) out tobogganing instead of doing school work. She brought hot chocolate and marshmallows and we trudged through the snow to a nearby hill to spend that afternoon laughing and having the time of our lives ‘skipping’ school while being safe from repercussions because it was endorsed by our teacher who joined in the fun. In 55 years, I have never forgotten that happy experience. Thank you Mrs. Gammie!
Dan Caverly
My fiancé and I went out to play bingo on a cold winter’s night in a city 50 miles away. Why we went out in the dead of winter, I’ll never know but my dad decided he should come along in case something happened . Coming home a storm started to brew which then turned into a whiteout. We couldn’t see a darn thing, not even the big semi which happened to be sharing the road coming our way which luckily missed us. We drove with our head stuck out of the window trying to stay out of landing in a ditch.
Trudy Halliday
We lived in Kitimat for many years. Kitimat is in a snow belt where you can get lots of snow and, with a fluctuation of a degree or two, that snow will turn into rain. We had about three feet of snow on the roof. It then began to rain adding to the weight. Through the night we can hear the roof creaking under the load. Suddenly, there’s a crash. A neighbour’s car port has collapsed. At 3 AM I am up on our roof shoveling off the snow. I am not alone. As I look around I see several of my neighbours doing the same thing. In the morning one of my neighbours succeeds in getting his snow blower up onto his roof. He attacks the snow. The blower worked very well. It took the snow, the shingles and the building paper right off the roof. We were yelling at him to stop. He couldn’t hear us and just waved back.
Eric Sykes
Lake Louise was a snowy paradise when we arrived by train at midnight for our 25th wedding anniversary. The stars were twinkling brightly as a driver took us to our hotel. The room was elegantly decorated in Victorian times and there was a hot tub on the snowy ice covered roof. This did not stop us from enjoying this rare luxury..In the days following we rode in a horse drawn sleigh, went snow shoeing for the first time, and had New Years Eve dinner at the Chateau. It was a very romantic, dream-like celebration. Thirty-nine years later we still swoon at that memory.
Bonnie Hamilton
You’re right! Snow lets you hit the PAUSE button when you’re not quite an adult, but no longer a kid. Once you hit adulthood you’ve got things to do when it snows, like clearing the walks and very likely going into work. Although at some point you still get to hit PAUSE and just cocoon – light the fireplace and sip a glass of red with some cheese and crackers (unless you’re on a dry January) until it stops snowing and the roads are cleared.
Ken Bergen
In 1965, My mother moved herself and her three teenage daughters from Winnipeg to Nanaimo, Being a single mother, she was cautious, so when a man on our street offered her a ride a few times she always said no thank you. We had no car and walked everywhere. We had our first green Christmas but it started to snow on Boxing Day and after a few days there was five feet of snow! On New Year’s Day, my mother was out taking pictures. A neighbour was inviting everyone in for a New Year’s drink. My mother went and there was the man who had been offering her rides. She discovered he was not married as she had assumed and that, like her, he was from the Prairies. They hit it off and were together for more than 22 years when, sadly, Dave died at only 73. He was a wonderful man and a great stepfather.
Linda Moore