Anyone who has read the right books growing up will know that Wardrobes are magical places. Of the portkeys that transport us from our everyday little world into the unknown world of worlds beyond, the Wardrobe is the most famous. While anyone with a little imagination will check the wall between train platforms 9 and 10, will look deeply into girl-size rabbit holes, and will look at objects left on park benches and in fallow fields to see if they shimmer, we cannot check every mirky wood for a way into faërie.
Never, though, do I ever pass a Wardrobe without at least having a peek inside.
We often find ourselves in magical wardrobes when we least expect it. It is sort of a Narnian principle that you can’t force it—you can’t make the magic happen just because you desperately want it. In this case, our growing family found ourselves in a tiny top floor apartment. My desk—strewn with papers, coffee cups, half-read books, and technology in various stages of decay— was an overwhelming sight in our single open space, the living room.
It had to be contained. We needed a solution to make our living space also a work space.
As our family was wandering through one of the least magical places in our particular universe—a suburban big box store—we suddenly found it: the Wardrobe. But not just any Wardrobe. A Wardrobe with a secret desk inside of it.
It is true. “Secret” is not the same as “magical.” But that does not mean it cannot transport you to other worlds.
While this looks like a mundane desk built by the Sauder company to be ideally suited to tiny spaces, this Wardrobe-desk really was a portkey for my imagination. It was in this particular Wardrobe that my first story turned into my first novel. And then my second, and third. Here I discovered hundreds of characters in dozens of fictional worlds—for writing is always a kind of discovery, as new and surprising to the author as it is to the reader. Here I wrote my first 200 blogs, my first academic papers, my first project proposals. I spent at least three weekends, sleepless and fueled by coffee and idiotic hope, trying to pound out a novel for the International 3-Day Novel Contest.
It is also here that I wrote the letter confirming that our family’s dream of adoption had died—really, murdered by bad people who knew better. It was here where I received my first publisher rejections. It was in this Wardrobe I ran spreadsheets for the most difficult financial times of our lives. Even the magic of Wardrobes cannot fix everything.
My needs and space have grown. I now have a desk covered in half-read books, unpaid bills, various tea mugs, and years of technology at various stages of decay. I have had to move out of the Wardrobe.
The Wardrobe is used. I have added shelfs and braced it here or there. You can see the spot where I put my left foot: it has worn the Sauder varnish clean to a smooth, blonde sheen. You can see where I set my coffee mug down, and where I kept my mouse It is definitely used, but we all know that for Wardrobes to work they should never be new.
And now the Wardrobe can be yours.
I am asking $100—a bargain at twice the price! But if you tell me that you are a writer trying to transport yourself to another world, an author trying to find your way to print, a poet in the age after poetry, an innovator trying to do a beautiful thing, an artist who loves to sketch the world, or a teacher in training hoping to invite a whole new generation of young people to other worlds, you can have it for $80.
You’ll never know what is inside this Wardrobe for you until you peek.
See the ad here: http://www.kijiji.ca/v-buy-sell-desks/charlottetown-pei/you-never-know-whats-inside-this-wardrobe-desk-until-you-peek/1164837450.
Neat ad. I don’t need a wardrobe, however.
-tony
Tony Gunter P. O. Box 423 Boaz, AL 35957 (256) 558-0941
Sent from my iPad
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I’m desperately trying to think of a way that I could conceivably make space for another piece of furniture in my house…Because I want to write stories, AND I want to teach, AND I’ve never passed a wardrobe without a thrill of wonder, AND I am practically drooling over the opportunity to have a real, non-magical magic wardrobe desk. It couldn’t be more perfect.
Except for the fact that I have no space.
Too many bookshelves, you see…
I’m always measuring to see if I can fit in another bookshelf (and, say, still open the door it’s ‘behind’ wide enough to get through), and we got our harmonium cheaply at the end of a Church jumble/rummage sale, when they were fearing they might have to throw it away – and a mad dash home and rearranging of the living room made sure we could fit it in…
David, you can’t be truly expected to pass up a Harmonium.
No – what a surprise and treat! And useful for children who had to learn a Psalm or song a week at school and for me to practice for oratorio choir – and we even later ran into a second-hand book (lawn sale, this time!) of Christmas Carol settings for Harmonium (which some of us – not I, alas – learned to play well). But if we ever move further than it is convenient – or affordable! – to take, it is now a Responsibility: I should find a Good Home for it (happily, an organist friend has offered to help, if it come so that).
Well, Larkleaf: that’s the problem, too many books, not enough space. But if you see a truly magical wardrobe near you, I would encourage you to make space!
That is a wonderful wardrobe! Alas I already have my own writing portal that has taken me on many journeys of my own. I hope someone takes yours and begins their own journeys with it. Good luck!
Nice word: writing portal.
A sad fact we discovered in the comparatively ‘little’ Netherlands (well, about 8 times the acreage of PEI, with over 100 times the population) when we were looking to share old furniture within the family was, how prohibitive the transportation costs were. I hope that’s not so, there – or you find a local buyer.
Moving is super costly in Canada, but I’m sure we can get this little piece into someone’s local livingroom.
One of my favorite wardrobe stories – when the Santo Caliz (one of the best contenders for really being The Holy Grail) was whisked away by some of the Faithful before those intent on bagging it and otherwise sacking the Cathedral arrived (this was in Valencia during the Spanish Civil War), one of the places it spent part of its years of safe seclusion was – in a wardrobe (with a secret compartment).
Did not know that. That’s a great story.
It’s also possible that someone will find the Grail in a “junk drawer”–you know, that place in the house where you keep tape, pennies, buttons, odd-man out tools, and gum.
Yep! (It could happen to an Archdeacon, or just about anybody 🙂 )
An enchanted wardrobe. I wish I had room in my apartment for it. And the desk reminds me of the desk in George MacDonald’s book Phantastes which was the door to Fairy Land for Anodos. Did a fairy appear to you there urging you to trust the beech tree but avoid the alder and the terrible Ash?
No fairy, no. Still waiting–though I would prefer my own flesh-version of Anodos’ story to the one he had to play out (on some days at least).
Unfortunately, there are no truly secret compartments in this great desk.
I’ve never understood why Ash is terrible.
So, have you found a new magical writing desk in it’s place?
Well, not a magical desk. My new desk is entirely mundane. But I do have a magical journal (leather bound, with a celtic knot, made from recycled 19th century leather).
The Holy Grail, books (especially second-hand)… the interest (in various ways) down the ages of things connected with people, and knowing about them and that (or those) connection(s) (or wanting or trying to). So, it is delightful to think what may draw the next enjoyer(s) of the wardrobe, is this illustrated history! May they come and embark upon their adventures with it, soon! (Which for some reason makes me think of a book I have not yet read which seems to be about imagined interactions of people and some thing: Hilaire Belloc’s The Green Overcoat (illustrated by Chesterton) – the preface of which, comparing a green overcoat and a green elephant, I’ve just tried, thanks to Internet Archive…)
Fun comparison between green overcoat & elephant! And looking for it I found great links to Internet archives, so thanks for the comment, David
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