Uncle Ugly

It's rather apt that the only piece of furniture my family has hung onto over the years was picked up years ago by my parents at a garage sale.

It's of no value, but somehow they've held onto it. Now I have it.

Uncle Ugly, as my folks called him, was a claw-footed table with glass on top that was out coffee table when we were younger. Here are my sisters playing around it (yes that's a turquoise Betty Crocker oven in the background).


Over the years Uncle Ugly degenerated to the point of having his glass broken and before that having coke slop onto the glass and seep underneath to form an icky-sticky layer that made neat patterns under the glass (my memory of that is so vivid I must have been the culprit!).

That's yours truly sulking over Uncle Ugly in her polyester pink pantsuit ....

By my teen years Uncle Ugly had graduated to life as a plant table in the upstairs hallway and eventually, to the cold storage room in my parents' new house, where I rescued him four years ago when I moved to Toronto.

Since then Uncle Ugly's come a long way. I spray painted him silver to give him a bit of glam, then fitted a thrifted mirror over the top where the glass used to go.

I change things up often when it comes to what I put on top of Uncle Ugly. My most recent living room manifesto resulted in some major book-piling on top. I like the look for now.

I've loved this table for four years now, though I took it for granted over the years growing up. I can remember making a Barbie house under it when I was wee, with my twin sis.


I love the shape, the curves, the bow embellishments you see on the side - and yes - even those claws.

I hope Mom and Dad never ever ask for him back!!