A questioner said: Old house (maybe 1920s). Found in area with vanity and storage closet. Hand for size. What is it?
Some of the answers were:
1.It looks like a shoe rack to me.
2.I tried that but the rungs are at too steep an angle that my shoes slipped off them
3.Sorry, I don’t mean to be condescending, but the heels would go on the top rung, the toes on the second down rung. This type of thing would only work with shoes with heels. I am not sure how they would slip off. Probably my failure of imagination.
4.Not just for high heels. Men’s leather shoes had heels that were a half inch or so* taller than the sole. Most modern shoes do not have separate heels, the sole runs all the way to the back. *Lifts would have 1-2″ heels.
5.More context: House is Spanish/Spanish revival style. Rods are metal. Panelling is wood that looks original to the house and is inset into a plaster wall.
6.I believe it’s for hanging towels to dry.
7.I thought so too. But there’s a rung really close to the bottom so I thought maybe I was wrong.
8.Good point. Maybe it’s a book shelf along the lines of this: Looks like the rods are paired up and could work for that.
9.
10.Yeah I see bookshelf
11.Yeah now that two people have mentioned it, I see it too. I think its placement next to the vanity is what confused me lol
What do you think about? Leave us any comment!
Nestled within the confines of an old house, perhaps hailing from the 1920s era, lies a peculiar discovery—an area adorned with a vanity and a storage closet, beckoning the curious to unravel its mysteries. With a hand offered for size comparison, one cannot help but wonder: what purpose did this enigmatic space serve?
In an age where functionality often intertwines with elegance, the presence of a vanity within a home carries a certain nostalgic charm. Originating from the Latin word vanitas, meaning emptiness or futility, the term “vanity” has evolved over time to symbolize both a piece of furniture and a reflection of the human desire for self-adornment and preservation.
The vanity, often accompanied by a mirror, serves as a sanctuary for personal grooming rituals. Its drawers and compartments are repositories for an array of beauty essentials, from cosmetics to grooming tools, each meticulously organized to facilitate the rituals of self-care. In an era when appearances were meticulously curated, the vanity was more than a mere piece of furniture; it was a portal to the realm of self-expression and refinement.
Adjacent to the vanity stands a storage closet, akin to a silent sentinel guarding its secrets. Within its confines lie the remnants of bygone eras—vintage garments, heirlooms, and perhaps forgotten treasures awaiting rediscovery. This closet, a repository of memories and artifacts, whispers tales of generations past, offering glimpses into the lives of those who once called this old house their home.
But what purpose did this amalgamation of vanity and storage serve in the context of the old house? Was it a sanctuary where the matriarch of the family retreated to indulge in moments of solitary reflection? Or perhaps it served as a shared space where generations came together to prepare for the day ahead, bonding over shared rituals and familial anecdotes.
As we contemplate the significance of this discovery, it becomes evident that the old house harbors more than just architectural relics—it is a repository of memories, a testament to the passage of time and the evolution of human culture. The vanity and storage closet, with their silent presence, serve as reminders of our collective journey—a journey marked by moments of beauty, introspection, and the preservation of cherished memories.
In the end, the true purpose of the vintage vanity and storage closet transcends their utilitarian functions—they are portals to the past, inviting us to embark on a journey of exploration and discovery, where the echoes of bygone eras linger in the air, waiting to be heard and remembered!
