None of It Should Work… But It All Does!

Something magical happened at the Toronto Vintage Show.

My friend Allison and I gave ourselves a budget: She was on the hunt for unique clothing finds while I was drawn—like a glittering moth to an antique flame—towards home decor. It wasn’t just about pretty things. I realized what I was really doing was building moments... I needed to find vintage pieces that added to the 'moments' in my apartment.

Preface: Each corner of my home, each wall, shelf, and trinket, is part of a maximalist theatre production where I am both the set designer and the star.

Allison put it best: "None of it should work—but it all does."

That one sentence unlocked something.

Somewhere between a velvet-fringed lamp and a 1970s jellyfish-shaped glass bowl, I realized I didn’t want my home to simply reflect my taste—I wanted it to perform. Each piece needed to whisper a story or declare a mood! And as if guided by that inner compass, my summer fashion statement hit me like a flash of rhinestones:

Vintage Bags.

I would collect one vintage bag per month, not for practicality (I mean, who actually puts stuff in those tiny 60s clutch bags anyway?), but as statement pieces. And then—because I live for a bit of whimsy and surprise—I thought: what if they were like fortune cookies?

Not just empty vessels but oracles.

Each bag would carry nothing practical, but instead be filled with little fortunes, cootie catchers, mini games, even vintage playing cards...or actually... maybe vintage candies like ring pops and popeye sticks (remember when we used to pretend they were cigarettes??! LOL) ...anyways - back to the fortune-telling cootie catchers...I’d ask people what they need to hear. Then I’d pull a slip and read it like a spell: “You’re the plot twist someone’s waiting for.” Suddenly, the bag wouldn't just be fashion. It would be performance art, a game and an act of love!

It’s a way of inviting people in—into conversation, into play, into a sense of being seen.

As I was chatting with another friend Clara and dreaming this up, we started imagining bag personalities based on people’s hopes, dreams, and even fears (those, we agreed, would be reserved for Halloween). Seven bags. Seven archetypes. And to make the experience even more immersive, I decided to match each bag with a tea cup!

You see, a friend once suggested that when people visit, I offer them tea or coffee in a cup that matches their vibe. Which is a FANTASTIC idea lol ...So now, I’m collecting teacups too—fancy ones, odd ones, dramatic ones. My pink feather chandelier is named Cassandra (after a friend—it’s not her vibe, but it’s her energy), so why wouldn’t my tea cups get names too?

This idea snowballed into something larger than just collecting. I started to see it as a kind of philosophy. An aesthetic and emotional worldview built on curation, experience, and play.

And then, unexpectedly, Friedrich Nietzsche showed up.

I’ve been listening to The Birth of Tragedy, and suddenly everything clicked. Nietzsche talks about the tension between the Apollonian (beauty, structure, order) and the Dionysian (wildness, chaos, ecstasy). In his view, the best art comes from their fusion.

Isn’t that what I’m doing here?

Each bag is curated (Apollonian) but filled with surprise and play (Dionysian). The teacups are beautiful (Apollonian), but the stories and conversations they spark are chaotic and soulful (Dionysian).

My home, my style, this entire project—it's not just a look. It’s a way of being.

It’s aesthetic philosophy with a rhinestone handle.

So, if you're thinking of starting your own collection or finding ways to turn your personal space into a kind of theatre, here are some invitations:

• Go to a vintage market with a friend. Give yourself a budget. Let the object choose you.

• Collect teacups. Let each one carry a name, a vibe, a story. Use them for guests. Create rituals.

• Create fortunes. Write tiny truths and tuck them in unexpected places—for yourself and others.

• Ask yourself what kind of moment you want to live in. Then build it, one odd little treasure at a time.

Because none of it should work. But it all does.

And somewhere in that contradiction, I think, is where the magic lives.

Next up: creating custom fortune cards for each bag. Stay Tuned!

Yours playfully,

Keith