I have been a collector and a bit of a rolling stone since I was just a young girl. I loved spending time quietly sorting through the catchall drawers in the kitchen, searching for treasures to tuck away into the keepsake boxes I had stashed in the back of my closet. Filled with everything from shimmering rhinestones that had fallen away from my hair brush to a Swiss Army multi-tool that managed to escape my father’s toolbox in the basement and sought refuge with the other lost items I was, so-called “keeping safe.”

In my early teens, I found myself drawn to the local thrift shops around town. Cultivating my collection of rebellious teenage fashion statements, one pair of combat boots at a time. I still remember the day I stumbled upon my first second-hand store, like a giant keepsake box that had come to life before my very eyes and on full display for all to see, filled to the tip with oddities in finds, fashions, and even the friends I made there. I was hooked immediately and spent the following years secretly fanning this flame.

As I grew, so did my wanderlust. By the time I was in my mid-teens, I had already ventured far beyond my bedroom walls. At 19, I made my way onto a Greyhound bus bound for New York City, with that old flame burning bright to light my way. In search of new experiences and old trinkets, this is when my true passion for vintage and fashion first began—combat boots by day, patent leather mary janes by night. There I was, wide-eyed and surrounded by life-sized catchall drawers, on nearly every street corner, and with little money to call my own, I was a kid in a candy store. A busted five-dollar silver and marcasite watch here, a dusty well-worn leather kiss-lock coin purse there. I loved them all. It wasn’t just the affordability that drew me in; it was the possibilities, the textures, the quirks, and even the smells, imperfectly perfect in so many ways. Treasures that all seemed to have a great story to tell and, much like me, had been and would continue, I hoped, to go places. I have always found a sense of romance in the process. There, hidden amongst those trinkets left as broken old memories, there was always that one that stood out from the rest, which seemed to speak only to me.

Having a nomadic heart makes you a pro at purging things you accumulate through various phases in your life. Selling what I had to get to the next new experience became second nature. I had always enjoyed the presentation aspect, the craft, and the shared experience of selling. Creating and dressing the stage for these cherished items before peeling back the curtain is a task I enjoy immensely, and seeing others’ reactions to things I had loved and had once created memories with is all part of the joy. In some ways, for the items I find, I’m just one part of a larger picture, a stepping stone on that never-ending journey toward finding that place of belonging.

In 2016, Box & Burrow Vintage was born.
This shop is my keepsake box brought to life and now on display for all to see and a love letter, you could say, to that day-dreaming and curious little girl I still want to be.