Birds of a Feather 

Written by Renee Rochelle

Friendship is a unique relationship concept.  There is no legal contract making you stay in each other’s lives nor is there a blood relation or family name to tie you together. You are bound to someone only because you want to be.

Like most people I have a few women in my life that I call my “best friend” and they are all friends with each other and I am friends with or at least know of their other “best friends” if that makes any sense.

My best friend Stacey and I met in our late teens and have been best friends ever since.  Our lives have actually paralleled so much that it’s almost spooky.  We are both the same height and age.  We both love the same music, nature and art. We both have two beautiful daughters and both of our eldest daughter’s first names start with “A” and have “Simone” for their middle names.


When our girls were growing up, we were in perpetual “mommy mode” and didn’t have much party time together so our friendship was a ton of play dates and phone calls to keep up with each other.  By the time our nests started getting empty, we both fumbled around with different interests to fill the gaps of time. The list of hobbies and/or activities we dabbled in ranged from selling cosmetics, candles, blogging on my space, attending local sporting events and working various part-time jobs.  We never seemed to be working the same type of job or engaged in the same hobby at the same time until last year.


It was Christmas and Stacey and her daughters were at my house exchanging gifts while I tortured everyone by talking endlessly about a Wedgewood Jasperware collection that I had started.  At first I think Stacey was afraid.  When people who are addicted to china and collectibles start talking about it they ramble and get this glazed look in their eye. By the end of the night my china high had worn off and I went upstairs to go to bed.

The next morning we were texting each other back and forth about rooms in our homes that we wanted to decorate.  We were sending each other photos from Pinterest and for the most part we were both interested in the shabby chic look.  We talked about going to different stores the next week and ended up on a shopping spree for home decor that lasted for months.  The money we spent at chain stores trying to achieve the looks was a bit ridiculous!  Over time we began to realize that the looks we were really falling in love with involved older pieces of furniture and decor that was mostly available in thrift stores, estate sales and auctions.  I told her about a place I had been shopping where the goods were sold by the pound and she said she was willing to check it out.

We walked in and started shopping.  She couldn’t believe the deals on the china.  Her cart was overflowing as we made our way to the checkout.  After we packed our cars up, I looked over at her inside of her car and her face was just a display of shock over the goodies she had acquired.

It was at that moment where I saw the glazed look and knew she would be my vintage, collectibles, china shopping buddy for life.  Since that day we have attended auctions, sales and thrift stores all over together and both of us have opened shops on Etsy.  I am not saying that one can’t thrift or collect alone.  I do it often, but it sure is more fun with a friend.  When you have something so special in your life and then you find someone to share that passion with; it just doesn’t get much better than that.


Happy vintage fun my friends!

Renee Rochelle is the owner of fancydollhouse on

Her Best friend Stacey is the owner of StaceysHutch on

check out their vintage shops!

Thanks for reading!













  1. I LOVE this!!!! Every single word is so true!!!! Thank you for turning me on to this. I can’t say that my boyfriend feels the same. LOL. Love you to the moon and back!! Forever thrifting!


  2. Its awesome that your friendship has lasted all these years. It’s ok to make new friends, but knowing you have someone that’s always been there for you throughout the years is priceless.


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