The Story of Storytellers

My mother always surrounded our house in second hand quirks, and I hated every bloody minute of it.

“Why can’t we have new things? All my friends have new things…” as if attention deficit disorder (ADD), anxiety, pimples and teen angst wasn’t enough for me to deal with. I eventually became so embarrassed that I stopped inviting friends over. Turns out I just needed new friends; and a new attitude.




”If you don’t look back to certain points in your life and think... “Maybe I was actually a bit of dick”….it probably means you still are.”


A favourite quote, for just as we all make mistakes, we can change. How we read back our past, guides us toward our future fates.


My twenties consisted of exploration (of thyself but also the wonderful wide world). Exploring it’s people, lovers/liars, family/friends, the richer and poorer, fabulous food, amazing art, drinking until disaster. I was everything from musician to menace, salesman to petroleum delivery specialist, hardcore to hardware, from tattoo shop servant to taxi driver, my forever short attention span has fuelling all desire or putting out fires.


Coming in hot to the flirty thirties, I met my wonderful partner, and after a little too much fun; we created a bun.

The universe wanted more lovin’ and put bloody TWO buns in the oven!

Not one of my adventures could prepare me for twins; so I focused all my ADD attention in going from Rad mode to Dad mode in 5 seconds flat.

Sadly some adventures end after just a few bends. A horrible unfortunate accident took both our little buns, and then it just wasn’t fun for anyone.


Fear not! Life happens, sad mode doesn’t override Dad mode. I continued to knuckle down, did some serious Mahi and bought our first little slice of Paradise - in magical Greytown, Wairarapa.


It’s exciting buying things for your first home! I scoured the world wide web in search of furnishings (but being broke from recent adulting adventures) I felt limited, eventually finding a flat pack dining table. It was sleek, clean lined and cheap, better yet it was NEW and as far removed from my Mothers vintage torturing as possible.


Now I don’t know about you but waiting for online purchases to show up is one of the best parts about buying online, it gives you something to look forward to with minimal effort, and conveniently enough, just two days later, my NEW flat pack dining table arrived!


Excitement soon turned to horror. I spent the next hour removing its horrible plastic protection, losing screws, fumbling with flimsy pieces of balsa, and frustratingly trying to read/follow instructions (yes, I pride myself on being an “unconventional” man) but even with those freshly English translated instructions - my night of watching a season of “the O.C” on the couch, while stealing proud glances at my new dining table, was looking further and further far away.


I hated my new table before I’d even had the chance to love it. I still hated it even after I had managed to get the legs straight.


I had no emotional attachment to my new table, I wanted more. There had to be more! More, more, more. I’m a millennial, I deserve more!


The next day as I left the house, for the first time I paid attention to the local antique shop “Wakefield Antiques”, just across the road. I thought “hmm now that is thinking outside the square. Could a better table be in there? Could my mother have been right all these years?” so I went in to have a look. While I was there, I fell in love with something that I used to hate.


Vintage furniture!


I became an addict. I wanted my little slice of paradise filled with furniture that made me feel something. Furniture that tells a STORY of its past, and it’s future tells a little story about you. I began to understand the long and short of it. Life can change in any short moment. So don’t long for the things you love; surround yourself with them.


Salvaging fills a void in so many ways, the thrill of finding something long forgotten, appreciating the original craft it took to originally create it and the leisure in restoring it. Finding someone who then appreciates that piece in the same way, and wants to have that piece as part of their own story – is what “Storytellers” is all about.


It’s simple, if I don’t love something, I won’t buy it. I only ask the same here at Storytellers.


That’s just about enough of our story…




Woody – Storytellers