My dad, though he didn't know it, shifted from a style of vintage minimalist to vintage maximalist. He was a self-employed mechanic by trade, but was talented in so many other areas. Quite frankly he was a master problem solver when it came to any kind of machinery and woodworking.
He applied this to furnishing his "home office." What did he need and that was what it was furnished with, no more - no less. However, the surfaces of those pieces were often askew with collections of whatever happen to be in his hands at any given time. I use the word home office in quotes because his office was a minimal sized building separate from our house, sitting right next door to the garage that housed his 1937 Chevy that only came out on Sundays.
This office was the space where his side hustle used car business was handled. He flipped cars before flipping cars was even a thing. Purchasing a well-worn, sometimes not mechanically sound vehicle and completing revamping it to pristine condition, the engine purring like a kitten and reselling it.
My Dad's home office inspired me to think about what a space would look like if he was an interior designer instead and gosh was it fun! I thought about the Underwood typewriter on his vintage teachers' desk, the skeleton key that unlocked his office door, the metal desktop fan with wide blades that rattled in the summer to keep the office cool. I thought about the scant furnishings on top of the old wooden floor, that still beckoned me to play in his office. And I thought about the bed of mint tea my Mom planted along the front of my Dad's office and the aroma it brought to this space when one would brush up against walking by.
And that's when I realized my Dad was both a vintage minimalist and a vintage maximalist. He had an industrial flair to it all as well. The rusty bolt, or well-used scissors, or the vintage teachers' desk chair that creaked on rugged casters were all accessories in his office. He didn't display these accessories as a designer, but they still defined his space.
The furnishings in his home office were not new and he wouldn't have referred to them as vintage; they were used. I don't recall where they came from, but I know that as a businessman, my Dad would take in trade items for payment when a customer couldn't afford to pay their garage bill. So I would venture that some, if not all of the items were acquired that way.
Dad's office was an unassuming square building but I admire that the placement of his desk was facing the only window in that building. Probably so his and my Mom's watchful eyes could always be on keeping track of just what the kids were up to.
The furnishings were mismatched and the drawers of the desk were known to get stuck, while the metal filing cabinet drawers sent out a sound of distress. The guest chair was a knock-off Arts & Craft style chair with a cracked red leather seat and creaky springs with horse hair fill. I have that chair, it's tucked in my brother's barn until I take on the project of refurbishing it.
Even my Dad's Red Wing work boots inspired me when I was thinking about what a space might look like if my Dad was an interior designer. The worn leather and the rawhide laces looped through metal rimmed holes and speed hooks are a color palette in themselves.
Who knew Dad's home office, furnished for function and need only would be such an inspiration!
Sources: Flickr, Tumblr, Domino Magazine, Apartment Therapy, Architectural Digest, Pinterest
