Just a girl and her birthday wish

(and maybe a bed, some monkeys, and a town square)

Today is my birthday.

Three years ago on this exact day, I gifted myself something I didn’t know I’d come to cherish so much—this little corner of the internet. My Substack. A space where I could share stories, beauty, nostalgia, design, and dreams.

If I could wish for anything today, it might be to own a town square. A charming one. You know the kind—brick sidewalks, a café on the corner, and most certainly a courthouse. Somewhere with stories baked into the buildings. But if I’m really dreaming? Then it’s an old house. One with worn floors, original windows, some stained glass, and just enough mystery tucked behind its walls. Remember this for next year, would you?

I think my love for old things runs deep. My dad almost finished a PhD in history, and our family vacations always had a historical stop tucked in somewhere. We never talked much about why he loved history, but now that I’m older, I find myself wondering. Maybe he wanted to understand what it felt like to be in the trenches in France, like his father. Or to imagine life in a grand turn-of-the-century home while he was baling hay in Kansas.

For me, it’s the quieter corners of history that capture my imagination—the beauty in the everyday. Silver, china, linens. The mastery of a well-made piece of furniture. I walk into a booth at Round Top and instantly start wondering: Who owned this? What did it mean to them? What did it witness?

Round Top is eleven miles of tents, barns, and antiques, each filled with hundreds of booths. But what stops me in my tracks are the vignettes—those small, stunning scenes created by the booth owners. They’re more than just styled corners; they’re tiny stage sets that hold entire stories. A velvet chair beside a chippy white dresser. A cluster of portraits leaning casually on a wall. Candlesticks, a stack of yellowed letters, a single shoe. Each one feels like a glimpse into someone’s life, carefully arranged to make you feel something.

And I do. Every single time.

I’m honestly obsessed with how everything in the photo above is just so perfect not perfect. But this space? It’s something else entirely. I want that bed, the monkeys, the chandelier, the chest of drawers, the lamp, the toy carriage, the pillows, the sleigh, the Christmas tree—honestly, even that kitchen chair. And while I’d never choose those curtains for my own home, here they are quiet perfection.

What I really want to do is grab a glass of wine, sink into a couch, and just take it all in. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind paying rent to stay a while. Wait—maybe I’m onto something… what if my booth wasn’t just a booth, but a whole VIP experience? Now that’s an idea.

Have you heard of ephemera? I hadn’t really paid attention to it until this trip. As a graphic designer and lifelong lover of history, I’m a little embarrassed the trend slipped right past me. But it makes sense—it’s everything I already love in one delicate bundle. Ephemera is all the little paper scraps and printed materials that were never meant to last: handwritten letters, ticket stubs, sheet music, receipts, postcards, deeds, photographs. It’s history in its most fragile form, and it’s everywhere right now—in collages, art journals, and vintage-inspired paper goods.

Naturally, I found my favorite bundle of ephemera at one of the most beautifully styled booths at Round Top: Walker 1791 Architectural Salvage and Design. Theresa’s tablescapes are to die for. Imagine stacks of silver trays, tarnished just enough, layered with bundles of old deeds, dried flowers, black-and-white photos—all tied neatly with twine. It’s the kind of styling that makes you want to frame the entire table.

Theresa grew up surrounded by farmland and vintage charm, and you can feel that story in everything she displays. Her company name is a tribute to her roots: G.R. Walker was her beloved uncle, and 1791 is the country road where the family farm sat. That spirit of heritage and simplicity carries through her whole space—something soulful and slow and full of intention. No wonder I bought nearly all my ephemera there.

Maybe that’s why I keep coming back to places like Round Top—not just for the antiques, or the color, or the history, but for the way all of it makes me feel. Like I’m stepping into someone else’s memory and making it a little bit mine. From hot pink Victorian walls to twine-wrapped deeds tucked under silver, every booth feels like a vignette of another life. And maybe that’s the real gift I wanted for my birthday this year—not a thing, but a place to wander and wonder. To dream about old houses and town squares, to sit quietly in the chaos, and to keep chasing the stories tucked inside the beautiful, everyday things.

Here’s the art I designed with ephemera purchased at Round Top and designed by me! This was my gift to one of my best friends, a childhood friend, from Martin, TN. I bought the frame at an Antique’s Show in Ringgold, GA last year. The little frame leaning on the vintage frame was a craft we did in third grade. I’m pretty sure I uncovered this gem when we were clearing out my mom and dad’s home. Maybe one day this photo of me will end up in an antique somewhere too and hopefully make someone wonder…