Youve always liked being surrounded by your things, she says.
Its true: I must have my trinkets.
found at a beauty parlor.
Credit:Terri Glanger; Styling: Russell Brightwell
Its no surprise that I loveestate sales.
As I walked through the place, it was as if a black-and-white film turned to color.
The lady of the house was named Mary Louise, and I instantly felt a connection to her.
Mary Louise “Weezie” Doran.Credit:Courtesy of the family of Mary Louise Doran
To my chagrin, I observed the shoppers around me rifling through her things with a sense of urgency.
By the pool, I found a bar cart, its white iron embellished with roses.
Id been searching for one exactly like it, and there it was.
As with all the best purchases, there was no hesitation.
Then I received a message in my inbox.
Somehow, Mary Louises granddaughter Amie had seen my posts.
She said she was happy I got the bar cart and thanked me for the kind words about Weezie.
It turned out that Mary Louise was called Weezie by her grandchildren.
I asked Amie for a photo of hergrandmother.
Just as Id expected, she was a legend.
A spitfire, Mary Louise never wore pants, favoring St. John skirt suits almost exclusively.
If they were feeling particularly rowdy that day, they would bet a nickel!
She always wore lipstick and drove a Corvette, even in her eighties.
She traveled extensively and bought a tchotchke to remember each trip.
As for the bar cart?
It was a place to display her latest trinket from abroad.
Theyre not just collections of stufftheyre each an amalgamation of another persons memories.
I like to devote a few moments to appreciate the life the owner built within the walls.
