an american abroad.

My name is Ian O'Hara and I am an American guest blogger who was asked to share my take on Lucy's Lounge. As I recently was introduced to the city of Dublin, my Irish nescience ended up finding more than just what a few Euros could buy.

Wandering around like an unskilled hunter on the bloated brick streets of Dublin, curiosity and trepidation swirled inside of me like watercolour paints and I happened upon Lucy's Lounge in vagabond style. The blush pink diamond shining on Fownes street presented open arms of warm knick knacks and smiles inflated only by kindness.

Hushed away in the basement of a three story building, I discovered for myself the fantastical world of beautiful clutter, saccharin in colour, vibrant in life. It reminded me of every childhood fable pieced into realism through crayon translations. Yo-Yo's in mossy greens and British reds, elderly suitcases living past their passed adventures, hand-me-downs from every 20th century decade, and pleasantly broken wedding gowns.

Striking a match of conversation with the shop owner Lucy, the string of welcoming banter evolved into an invitation to the country home of her and her salt and pepper bearded husband Rory, who supported her invitation gleefully. I was sweetly taken as a new found friend, ostensibly portraying the quiet qualities of a lost dog: frightened and alone in an unfamiliar place.

Lucy's Lounge produces their own products to sell, adding drops of love and creativity to previously unloved items. Friends of the store, prolific, crafty artists, contribute their own works to be sold in the store as well. Hand bags, tutus in pastels and egg whites, jewelery, hats, you name it. I am amazed by their world. A rabbit hole of surprises adorned with bewitching treasures of any kind.

Their country home is an extension of their gifted hands, furthering my foreign interest of their second-hand romances. The workshop is a dream machine. Lucy tells me it has never been seen by the public eye and I wonder why I have become a special customer, to be allowed in on this secret. But I am thankful, nonetheless. I am thankful and taken by the cloistral compassion I found in Dublin. I only wish every person could experience their philanthropic cheer as I was so privileged to have tasted.