Sometimes what we most need in life is time with a friend, a trip to the country, and an intentional slowing of pace.
Add in some fall festivities, flawless weather, and reclaimed furniture and you have the makings of a near-perfect morning!
Last Saturday my friend, Dixie, and I drove west of Minneapolis to explore the countryside and visit the Mama’s Happy Fall Outdoor Market. Mama’s Happy has quickly become a staple on the Twin Cities’ furniture and design scene. It all began in 2010 when a group of friends came together with the thought of repurposing local furniture and selling upcycled items as fashionable, on-trend décor pieces. Inspired by the “do-all-the-things” mentality many modern women embody, these entrepreneurs sought to create a shopping experience where women could channel their creativity and retreat from the hustle and bustle of daily life—even if only for a few short minutes. The friends agreed on the need to devote more time spent doing what we love—after all, “When mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy”— and thus the first Mama’s Happy was born.
Since its inception the company has moved location (from Mound, Minnesota to Independence, Minnesota) and has since opened two additional storefronts: One in St. Paul and one in St. Louis Park. Each shop is quaint and inviting in its own unique way, serving as the perfect spots to seek inspiration, refresh your living space, and indulge your inner Joanna Gaines: Just what the original “mamas” intended!
To add frosting to this already delicious idea, in recent years Mama’s Happy has proudly established a Fall Outdoor Market that hosts over 50 local artists and food vendors in addition to the rustic splendor that defines the Occasional Shop, the largest—and quaintest—of the three Mama’s Happy locations. The market spans three days, providing guests ample time to roam its offerings and get their happy mamas on.
Dixie and I share an affinity for décor, remodeling, and all things HGTV. We bond over our “grandma interests” that push us slightly outside the norm of typical twenty-something pastimes and revel in our mutual passion for discovering unique finds and uncovering their hidden potentials. Dixie and her husband, Patrick, recently moved into a house in St. Paul and have since been on a fixer upper-style renovating spree. From refinishing the beautiful hardwood floors, to installing a bathroom barn door, to constructing a huge farmhouse table from scratch, the couple nearly has the makings of its very own television series!
Since the move, Dixie has been on the hunt for furniture pieces and décor items to transform their house into a home, and I am more than happy to accompany her on this quest. Most recently, she has been searching for the perfect piece that complements their beautiful hand-made table and big open wall space in the dining room. Given this context, I didn’t have to do much convincing when I told Dixie about the Fall Outdoor Market: This mama was in[1]!
Dixie usually drives a sedan and was amicably disgruntled when she arrived to pick me up in a 2007 silver bullet of a mini van. Her car has been in the shop for the last week, and, despite her protests that she only needed to transport herself around town—as opposed to a family of six—the shop provided her with the only rental car available. Thus, we began our pilgrimage to Mama’s Happy playing the part of two childless Mamas with an empty minivan: We were off to a good start!
The market was already bustling with excitement when we arrived shortly after opening, and we found parking on a dirt road near a neighboring barn and cornfields. Eager to begin exploring, we took a few moments to savor the crisp morning air and picturesque country charm. While Independence, Minnesota is just a few miles west of popular Minneapolis suburbs like Wayzata and Orono, it feels like a total departure from daily life. From the sprawling green fields to the endless pastures of grazing horses, the drive alone is worth a trip to Independence, a fitting name for a place that is liberatingly different.
As we made our way to the festival Dixie and I decided we would stop by the Occasional Shop before hitting the outdoor vendors, as the storefront was more likely to house potential furniture that might pique her interest. We entered the already-crowded space and immediately began admiring the eye-candy that surrounded us.
The store was teeming with old finds and upcycled treasures, and it was difficult to know where to look. We bobbed and weaved our way through the crowds and myriad furniture pieces until we entered a new room and then stopped cold in our tracks. Before us stood a beautiful antique serving buffet practically dripping with “character[2]” and charming antique details. The piece had been painted a romantic creamy-grey almond shade and spoke to us with an alarming sense of clarity: We had found the perfect piece!
Immediately we went into designer mode:
“This would look perfect with the farm table’s raw wood!”
“Did you see this scalloped edging?”
“Can’t you just imagine exposed beams hung above this to create open shelving?”
Yes this was an actual conversation[3]. And yes, clearly we both need to go to HGTV-lovers-anonymous for some serious addiction treatment. And no, we were not exchanging this dialogue ironically[4]. What can I say? As advertised, this almond buffet unquestionably made us “happy.”
We continued to peruse the rest of the shop, ogling the beautiful furniture and charming décor all the while gushing over the buffet and scheming over the logistics that would make it ours. As we looked around we encountered example after example of unique, charismatic furniture items, but there was something special about the buffet that we couldn’t help coming back to. As we made another lap around the store we promised ourselves we would explore the outdoor market before making a concrete decision: If the piece was still unsold by the time we returned, then we knew what we had to do.
The outdoor market was bustling with live music, pumpkins galore, and no shortage of mimosa-carrying women dressed to the nines in plaid scarves, leather boots, and made-for-Instagram floppy hats despite the 85-degree weather[5]. We strolled through stalls boasting fall décor, Minnesota-inspired treasures, and various signage[6], finding no shortage of repurposed antique goods[7]. The atmosphere was sensational, and the eye-candy was alluring, but we still couldn’t stop talking about that buffet: We had to go back.
We re-entered the Occasional Shop and were shocked to discover a number of the furniture items we had encountered merely forty-five minutes ago had been sold and removed from the floor. Slightly panicked, we made our way to the buffet, crossing our fingers that Dixie had not missed out on her golden opportunity. Lo and behold the piece was still there! That said, it was swarmed with women eagerly sizing it up and chatting with their friends about how perfect it would look in their homes. Dixie and I looked at one another and knew it was now or never: Time to buy now and measure later[8]!
She rushed to the register while I sidled up to the buffet and stood—very conspicuously—in front of it like a sweeper standing as the last line of defense in a soccer match: No one was getting past me! Finally Dixie was able to move forward in line, make the purchase, and acquire a tape measure. She measured the piece as I took down dimensions, both of us hoping this seemingly troublesome minivan was about to pay off in an unexpected twist of fate.
Giddy, we made our way back to the minivan trying to form a contingency plan in case this didn’t work. Were we sure the seats even folded down, or would we have to go home, remove them entirely, and return for our plunder? We were about to find out.
After much pushing, prodding, and consulting of the owner’s manual[9], we managed to fold all the seats down and stow them into the car floor: Victory was ours! We measured the cargo space and shared a round of high fives as we realized the buffet would fit comfortably with more than enough room to spare. One mother passed us, stroller in-tow, as we reveled in our success and laughed at the scene, contributing: “Those stow-and-go vans are lifesavers, aren’t they, ladies?” They are indeed! Clearly the furniture gods had looked on us kindly.
As our measurements predicted, the buffet fit with ample margins. Clearly this find had been meant to be. We spent the drive home recounting our success and reliving our excitement. There was certainly no shortage of delight: We were two happy mamas.
Perhaps upcycled furniture isn’t your thing and the mere thought of attending a fall outdoor market makes you shudder. That may be the case and is completely valid, but it is beside the point. Yes, Dixie and I bond over our shared appreciation of discovering the hidden potential in old furniture finds, and yes, to some, that may seem a little silly[10]. But, it is precisely this silliness, this whole-hearted acceptance and unhindered glee that defined our experience and transformed our ordinary morning into a thrilling adventure.
Sometimes it pays off to take a step back, to delight in the little things, and to give ourselves over to the quirky passions that excite us. So whether its taking time to fish on a quiet lake, cozying up on the couch with a good book, or going antique hunting with a friend, seek out what excites you and do more of it.
After all, don’t we deserve to have a little more “happy” in our lives?
[1] While neither of us are “mamas” by definition, we are most certainly happy!
[2] See: Any home improvement show’s primary buzzword.
[3] You can’t make this stuff up!
[4] Unfortunately. Sigh.
[5] Again, you can’t make this stuff up.
[6] Truly, there was no end to the signage. While I can certainly appreciate a judiciously placed decorative inspirational sign (or maybe two), this is one overly prolific tenant of “farmhouse” style décor that I just don’t understand. There’s nothing like a sign that articulates “bathroom” or “kitchen” to help you connect the dots and make sense of the fact that you are indeed standing in a “bathroom” or a “kitchen.” Dixie said it best: “If you need a sign that says ‘Farmhouse’ to indicate that is the look you are going for, then you are doing something wrong.” Amen, sister!
[7] That were sold at a premium, I might add. This is another thing I just can’t wrap my head around: Some people absurdly overspend in the name of “farmhouse chic.” While I certainly like to indulge in window shopping as I make my way through these displays, I fully acknowledge I’m not going to strike any deals in the process. Fifty-five dollars for an antique silver tray? Clearly these shoppers have never been to Empty the Nest.
[8] Admittedly not our best idea, but keep reading!
[9] Those 2007 models aren’t as intuitive as one might expect!
[10] Heck, we even think it’s a little silly: But we don’t let that stop us!
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