Beth Inlander

A strong memory I have from growing up is my mom setting off on excursions to flea markets, antique stores and shows to find treasures to add to her multiple collections. Beautiful blue and white china pieces were tastefully displayed on our built-in-shelves. Her DeVilbiss atomizers sparked me to start my own collection of contemporary perfume bottles. I loved her inkwells and feather pens and the unique pieces like the marble bench and deep rust-red water cooler that stood in our hall. Even late in her life, it made me smile when she proudly proclaimed to her doctor, “I’m a collector!”

My favorite was the lovely collection of hatpins flowering in their delicately hand-painted porcelain holders. The kaleidoscope of greens, turquoises, blues, yellows, purples and shades of gold, brass and silver metallics in all different shapes mounted on “steel stems” always captivated me. I was so excited to discover a pair of tortoiseshell pins on Portobello Road during my first trip to London with my husband as a young married, delighting to learn that hatpin pairs are rare when I presented them to Mom on our return. 

Early on, I staked my claim to this special collection. Although significant in numbers, its small size meant I would always be able to find space. I identified the perfect shelf in our living room when I inherited this melange just eighteen months ago. Now, I delight in this beautiful hatpin garden every day and savor the link to the mother that nurtured me to become a collector.