I’ve always wanted an excuse to buy a portable
Crosley turntable, both because the name itself conjures up images of Crosley
field and my Cincinnati heritage and because they seem to instantly up the cool
factor of any room in which they sit.
When we moved my boyfriend’s remaining
things out of his parents house this past weekend and we inherited his record
collection that I didn’t even know existed, my immediate next step was to run
out and get one. Even though we still don’t know where it will live in our 800
sq. ft. condo, I’ll be inspired by a few of sfgirlbybay’s images as I begin to
spin records all around the house.
