I'm a Facebook friend of Garnet Hill — and we're even "friends with benefits" because they occasionally have special offers, including flash sales, that are only advertised on Facebook.
Garnet Hill is one of a handful of sites and stores where I shop regularly and happily. Their quality, aesthetics, and pricing meet my fussy standards. I also like the fact that they are based in New England. And when they sell Børn and Ugg boots (no, not those ubiquitous ugly flat ones, but leather ones with heels that look nothing like Uggs) at good sale prices, I can't resist.
This morning, they advertised a 2-hour flash sale with 20% off everything on the site, including sale items — plus free shipping. This is an excellent deal, especially since their fall clearance items are temptingly marked down already. They offered a couple of flash sales like this before Christmas, which helped me with presents and taught me to pay more attention to Facebook.
Since the after-Christmas sales began, I've had my eye on some of their quilts and coverlets; I keep adding layers to our bed because the room is chilly and drafty, and I get "cold flashes." I have no idea why, but when I get into bed I often turn so cold I can't sleep, even under layers of cashmere and flannel and coverlets, an extra-warm comforter, and a husband who lets me thaw my icy feet on him. A good friend gave me a fancy European hot water bottle to put inside my furry cover; it's my heaviest artillery, and I'm about to start using that, too, to spare my husband.
Anyway, during the flash sale this morning, I considered the options and decided on this heavy cotton chenille oversized coverlet by Nicola's Homes, marked down from $228 to $99, plus an extra 20% off.
I've been strangely drawn to this since I first saw it months ago, even though it's kind of "Colonial" for my taste. I finally figured out why. As a teenager, I was allowed to redecorate my tiny bedroom, which had previously been my brother's. We removed his ghastly, bleached-mahogany boy's furniture and his hunting rifles and ammo. Instead of going mod — it was the 1970s and we lived in a split-level, after all — I choose walnut Hitchcock furniture, including a low four-poster and a Windsor chair. Each piece was subtly hand-stenciled with fruit and flowers. I spent a long, rainy Saturday in a decorating shop poring over wallpaper patterns. I chose a reproduction 18th-century arabesque design in crisp juniper-green on white. That Christmas, my mother made me an old-fashioned quilt with appliquéd hearts. I finished the room with a pewter candlestick, glass inkwells, framed dried-flower arrangements, a dulcimer, and a pie-crust table I found in the attic. I guess this juniper-and-white coverlet will be my Valentine to those days, and to that somewhat odd teenager, who knew how to card wool, use a spinning wheel and a loom, and dip candles.
I also realized today that I can stop feeling aesthetically inferior to people who prefer the Colonial Revival style for architecture and decorating. I am firmly mired in the Victorian era, or the Edwardian when I'm in a really modern mood. I thought I was supposed to evolve to Colonial Revival next, but I never get there — and that's because I'm already been-there-done-that over it. That was high school for me.
So I bought the coverlet, which will look great on our Victorian brass and iron bed. I was also thinking about a few other options, which I left in my shopping cart before I went away to take a shower and get ready for an appointment. When I returned to my desk, the sale was over. I checked my shopping cart. Empty. How odd. I went to the "Order History" page and discovered that two orders were placed this afternoon. Dear old Snalbert had bought me a wine-colored quilt and matching shams. How thoughtful! However, he had ungenerously used my credit card, which appears automatically at checkout. (He was probably on my desk looking for his food dish, not to shop, but he can't resist a practical joke. He's also jealous that Snicky got a whole post to herself yesterday.)
I called Garnet Hill and said that I thought my cat had placed an order. After we were done laughing, the associate looked up the order and noted that Bertie had not entered the security code on the back of the card, so the sale did not go through. Phew. He can type, sort of, but he can't get into my wallet. Yet.