I hate the word niche. I’m a smorgasbord, and proud of it.

Emilie Perreault
4 min readOct 7, 2022

Being a multipotentialite feels like being in a love-hate relationship with myself. My scattered mind can be frustrating. Walking into rooms forgetting why I came in the first place, endless half-started chores and projects. I’ll often be folding laundry only to start organizing my closet, and next thing you know, I’m on the floor sifting through old photographs thinking, how did I get here?! Meanwhile, not so neatly folded piles of laundry sit forgotten on my bed. When I’m having a good day, this makes me laugh, I even enjoy my scatterbrain! But, it can be a challenge when trying to get any creative endeavor past the finish line.

Today’s one of those good days. I’m writing to you now after climbing out of my latest internet rabbit hole.

Photo by Loes Klinker on Unsplash

I hate the word niche. As a bonafide multipotentialite, forever student and scatterbrained individual, there’s nothing I hate more than the idea of having to fit myself into a box. I’m a smorgasbord, and proud of it. However, I’ve recently discovered that nothing tickles me more than listening to people geek out about a super niche topic, whatever it might be. I feel like it’s 50% not being able to resist the urge to learn and 50% genuine pleasure in witnessing someone talk about something they love.

During my latest internet rabbit hole, I stumbled upon an entire society dedicated to the art of transferware, and boy oh boy am I tickled.

What the f*** is transferware? Well, you know that fancy dishware your grandma keeps in her dining room? I’m like 99% sure it’s transferware. If the word antiques makes you think of flowery tea cups, well that my friend, is transferware. To get a tad more scientific, it’s the method used to transfer etched drawings onto pottery. Before this method came around, pottery was hand painted, a.k.a. very expensive and time consuming. Thanks to the transferware method, a print design could be etched once and then transferred multiple times.

Source: Giphy.com

Transferware patterns took inspiration from paintings, often of, and I quote here, ‘exotic places,’ — a.k.a. places that were different from what white Europeans were accustomed to. India and China mostly. At the time that transferware emerged in the late 1700’s, the average middle and working class family couldn’t afford travel, and photography wasn’t around yet, so it was up to painters to capture the imagery of distant places. According to Hobby Lark, some artists were paid by wealthy travelers to create souvenir drawings of their time abroad. What a time to be an artist!

My recent forays into the world of antiques and vintage goods has already impacted the way I see my couch, dressers and all of the objects I surround myself with. What changes when the object you hold’s history becomes known? What changes when you’ve seen how it’s made or where it’s come from?

When I visited a coffee finca in Costa Rica, I witnessed the process from plant to cup. I walked through the dense foliage, surrounded by banana trees, saw the beans being laid out in the sun, then roasted to perfection. I’m not a coffee snob, I swear, but whenever I see a Costa Rican coffee, I’m brought back to that day in the mountains of Paraíso. I’ve heard of the expression, “to know a place,” and I wonder if I could use it for all of the objects that make up a place as well.

Thanks to my scatterbrain and insatiable curiosity, I’ve now become that person who flips over dinner plates to look for markings so that I can immediately google and bore my friends to death about the origin story of their dishes.

Okay, so dishware might not be your cup of tea (pun intended), but the next time someone serves you a heaping bowl of spaghetti Bolognese, maybe you’ll pay a little more attention to the dish you’re eating off of. Just don’t flip it over until you’re done.

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Emilie Perreault

Exploring life as an introverted, sensitive, multipotentialite. You can learn more about me at www.libraryofpotential.com