If you, like me, tend to leave 500 or so soggy books layered on towels on 19th century Chinese altars/buffet tables, you may have experienced a spiritual moment of forehead-slapping understanding as you removed the “really John, this is totally safe” layers of cloth and found that the lovely finish was coated with a milky white cloud of water damage. Had I not found the following solution (the first, below, really works!!!), I’d have had to live with that accusingly cloudy altar for years. Not to mention that accusingly cloudy husband, who is now very happy about the fix, and even happier about having hot water (and showers) in the house.
Three methods for fixing cloudy water marks on wood furniture:
- Rub the area with a rag dampened (not wet) with alcohol.
- Apply a thick coat of an oily substance such as petroleum jelly or mayonnaise on the mark and let it sit overnight. Generally, the oil will displace the moisture.
- If the water damage has darkened the wood or caused the finish to separate from the wood, this will require stripping and refinishing.
I suppose you may be wondering why we would have 19th century Chinese furniture in a New England Cape/Farmhouse built circa 1832. Well, this house was built by a shipbuilder who ran the ship-building mill next door (now gothic-looking stone ruins overgrown by wild roses that our neighbor hopes to restore and harness for hydro-electric power). The narrow turned staircase is reminiscent of stairwells in ye old ships. I’m quite glad he wasn’t a fireman, or I suppose we’d be sliding down firepoles in the morning. So, I would think that a shipbuilder might receive payment in kind from his customers — sea merchants importing goods from the far east. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
Although why there would be two 18th C. shipbuilding mills in land-locked Wrentham — I have no idea.
But wait, there may be an alternative explanation: For years we’ve displayed an oil painting of an Asian woman in a kimono (from a National Geographic cover in the 60s or 70s), of which I’m particularly fond, created by my lovely and talented mother (more widely known for golf prowess than paintbrush wielding these days). In fact, I stole this painting from under a sheet in the folks’ basement in Belle Terre while home from college — obviously some time ago. Last week I determined that John has always thought this to be a portrait of my grandmother on my father’s side: apparently he thought Mary Mildred Kiesel Harris from the Long Island Kiesels who arrived in Valley Stream circa 1800 was Asian. So apparently the penchant for 19th C. Asian furniture is the result of a genetic memory on my part.
What we can’t fathom, though, is where’d we all get the blonde hair, corpse-hued skin and blue eyes if Nana was so exotic-looking?
