Why Old Things Are Better
I share some of the vintage items I own, why I love them, and how the people we meet, places we visit and items we own both enrich our lives, and bring us all together.
JOHN NICHOLS
JANUARY 29, 2021
I like old things.
Today, a parcel came through my door.
Inside was a knitted wool jumper.
But not a brand-new one from an online retailer.
This one I found on eBay.
It’s from a small Scottish knitwear company with 30 years of history, in Pitlochry, Perthshire.
Sadly, the business is now closed.
Yet, this jumper.
And others like it.
Are evidence of its existence.
A relic of the past.
A calling card to the memories of thousands who lived and worked in this sleepy village in central Scotland.
Using the wool of local sheep.
And the skill of local hands.
Tough, warm clothing was made, to withstand the harsh winters of the surrounding straths and highlands.
And now I shall wear it.
To face the chilly Northumberland winters.
The work of these hardy Scots lives on.
And I shall continue the story of what they made.
I like old things.
This is my electric guitar.
An Avon Les Paul.
Made in Japan in the 1970s.
A copy of the ever popular Gibson Les Paul.
My hands are certainly not the first to have played it.
Who has played this before?
What has it seen?
Has it been used on-stage, by a local band?
Or, has it been thrashed around at home by an enthusiast?
It has signs of wear all over.
From the scratches on the frets.
To the discolouration of the white outlines.
And the attempt of a prior owner to repaint the front, now all marked and worn.
Each is a sign of a life well-lived.
A chord strummed.
A lick played.
Passed from owner to owner.
For nearly 50 years.
Its story has grown.
And now.
It’s time to write my chapter.
I like old things.
This is a watch I’ve owned for a few years now.
It’s a Favre-Leuba Sea King.
Made in Geneva, Switzerland in the 1960s.
The once pristine silver dial now a rich champagne hue.
And the once polished case now a scarred, burnished suit of armour.
The crown has lost its sharp edges.
From almost 60 years of hand-winding.
It has seen many owners.
But each has given it life in the same way.
Through a delicate turning of the crown.
I don’t wear it as often as I should.
And that makes me uncomfortable.
Guilty, even.
That I’m not enjoying it as much as someone else would.
That I’m doing a disservice to its legacy by keeping it on a shelf, for the most part.
It deserves to carry on living a full life.
It will hurt if I’m not the one to do that.
But it will hurt more to know that it’s not having one at all.
I like old things.
The final piece I’d like to share is this.
It’s an unbranded holdall, also from the 1960s.
The previous owner told me it that it used to belong to his father.
And was taken on countless journeys in his day.
From country to country.
By plane, by boat, or by train.
There’s even remnants of old travel stickers on the outside.
Now, it is well worn, but still sturdy.
Shaped by decades of use.
Each mark is a sign of love.
Think of the emotions that this bag would envoke.
Anticipation.
Excitement.
Joy.
All in the knowledge that the owner was going somewhere new.
Expanding his horizons.
Living a fuller life.
And here lies my point.
These items were not made to be thrown away in a few years.
Or to last a single season in the eyes of fashion.
Or to be thrown in landfill if unsold.
They were made to last.
With inherent quality in mind.
To provide reliable service for decades to come.
And now.
Some 10, some 30, some 60 years on.
The quality shines through.
And their ability to give you a fuller life remains.
Each of these items, and many more besides, have led their own lives.
They’ve been loved, worn and shaped by each hand that has touched them.
From their creation, through to today.
And they each have a legacy which it is my duty to live up to and uphold.
A story that will continue, through the chapters I will write.
Then maybe one day.
Whether that be another 10, another 30, or another 60 years.
Someone else will have the opportunity to write their chapter.
To both shape and protect the item for the next owner.
We all write chapters in the stories of others.
Other people, other places, other items.
And these chapters are, in turn, a part of the story of us.
Every person we meet.
Every place we visit.
Every item we own.
We shape them, and they shape us.
And that is why.
I like old things.
Published January 29, 2021.