Sharon Mrozinski has spent her life seeking, discovering, and sharing beauty. With her husband Paul, she’s spent over 35 years hunting for antique and vintage homewares, fabric, and objects from all over the world, bringing them back to sell at the Marston House, the creative umbrella under which Sharon and Paul live and work. Since the late 90s, the couple has split their time between coastal Maine and Southern France, where they live half the year traveling and buying antique textiles and furnishings for the shop.
Sharon is a true example of what it means to blur “life” and “work,” moving passionately and letting intuition guide both her business and daily routine. We visited her in the last breath of Maine’s summer on Vinalhaven Island, where she and Paul relocated earlier this year. Below, a conversation on the path that led her from the Arizona desert to Maine to France; discovering beauty in simplicity; and believing in something “bigger and better” than yourself.
Photos by Jay Carroll, interview by Alison Carroll
Can you share more about your upbringing and childhood? You describe on the Marston House website that growing up in the Arizona desert provided a specific freedom and clarity. Can you elaborate?
My family moved to Arizona from the Midwest when I was less than a year old. We moved to Prescott, bought a trailer, and lived in a trailer park. My dad loved being in Arizona — he bought a horse for himself and my sister, wore cowboy boots, blue jeans, listened to country music, danced with mom…the whole scene. He had taken a job with Chevron Oil and because we had a trailer, we moved around to small towns in Arizona, opening up gas stations along the new roads being built after the war.
We finally landed in Salome between Phoenix and Blythe, CA. Dad had bought an old beat-up truck that we would take out into the desert to explore. He would let me steer while sitting on his lap—it was these moments after the war where life looked really great. Our family was intact and happy, everyone breathed easier, and there was freedom in the air. They let me run wild since I was impossible to contain — as a three year old I went to the dump, catching snakes, and horned toads, lizards and scorpions, making potions from the cracked clay and desert plants and selling them for a penny. My parents were wonderful and adored one another and my sister and I. And I was happy to be an independent little girl, at one with the desert and the creatures and all that freedom offered me.
Having little or no restrictions I learned about myself, [including my] strengths and weaknesses. I was independent and strong headed and have continued to be throughout my life. I was not then and am not now a “book learner.” Rather, I have always felt tuned in to my inner wisdom, knowing intuitively what I needed.
My family moved to Arizona from the Midwest when I was less than a year old. We moved to Prescott, bought a trailer, and lived in a trailer park. My dad loved being in Arizona — he bought a horse for himself and my sister, wore cowboy boots, blue jeans, listened to country music, danced with mom…the whole scene. He had taken a job with Chevron Oil and because we had a trailer, we moved around to small towns in Arizona, opening up gas stations along the new roads being built after the war.
We finally landed in Salome between Phoenix and Blythe, CA. Dad had bought an old beat-up truck that we would take out into the desert to explore. He would let me steer while sitting on his lap—it was these moments after the war where life looked really great. Our family was intact and happy, everyone breathed easier, and there was freedom in the air. They let me run wild since I was impossible to contain — as a three year old I went to the dump, catching snakes, and horned toads, lizards and scorpions, making potions from the cracked clay and desert plants and selling them for a penny. My parents were wonderful and adored one another and my sister and I. And I was happy to be an independent little girl, at one with the desert and the creatures and all that freedom offered me.
Having little or no restrictions I learned about myself, [including my] strengths and weaknesses. I was independent and strong headed and have continued to be throughout my life. I was not then and am not now a “book learner.” Rather, I have always felt tuned in to my inner wisdom, knowing intuitively what I needed.
What led you from the desert to New England, and to starting the Marston House?
I’ve suppose I’ve always loved selling things — starting back at my days selling desert earth for pennies. But then when I moved into my first home [as an adult], I started buying used furniture.
When I was 30 I took my first trip to New England with my sister and a friend whose family summered in Maine. We stayed in their house — an early 17th Century home that had no electricity or running water, with outdoor toilets and oil lanterns. There, I really felt like I was in my element.
Back home in Carmel Valley, CA, I’d furnished my entire home with 1900s oak. But after seeing these New England homes furnished with early painted, beautifully worn antiquities, I returned with a new view. And I think that’s really how it all sort of came about — I opened my first shop with a girlfriend in 1981, and I wouldn’t call it an instant success, but I got my feet wet and learned so much. Later, after a divorce and while raising two boys, I married Paul — and together we moved to Wiscasset, Maine, in the spring of 1987 to start the Marston House.
I’ve suppose I’ve always loved selling things — starting back at my days selling desert earth for pennies. But then when I moved into my first home [as an adult], I started buying used furniture.
When I was 30 I took my first trip to New England with my sister and a friend whose family summered in Maine. We stayed in their house — an early 17th Century home that had no electricity or running water, with outdoor toilets and oil lanterns. There, I really felt like I was in my element.
Back home in Carmel Valley, CA, I’d furnished my entire home with 1900s oak. But after seeing these New England homes furnished with early painted, beautifully worn antiquities, I returned with a new view. And I think that’s really how it all sort of came about — I opened my first shop with a girlfriend in 1981, and I wouldn’t call it an instant success, but I got my feet wet and learned so much. Later, after a divorce and while raising two boys, I married Paul — and together we moved to Wiscasset, Maine, in the spring of 1987 to start the Marston House.
Today you live between two very beautiful places – France and Vinalhaven, Maine. How did France come into play, and what role has each played?
Paul and I went to France on the invitation of a dear friend of mine who was housesitting an apartment in Paris during the winter of 1983. We flew over on New Year’s and stayed for a month. We’d never been before, and set out to explore every single day — walking 10 or 20 miles sometimes. It was so inspiring, seeing all of the small neighborhood shops…we really got to know Paris and it was a life-changing month for sure. In the simplest ways we didn’t realize how much it was affecting our lives.
We went back to France in 1997. When we had gone the first time, a friend suggested we visit southern France, and one of the places she suggested we go was the Luberon in Provence, which is where we ended up buying a space in 1999, and where we have returned to each winter since. In the late 90s, we were into buying and selling pieces that were completely Americana: American quilts and early American cloth. However, it was becoming so difficult for us to buy in a price range we were able to afford. What we were looking for — “peasant cloth,” is what it’s called — was much more abundant and affordable in France, and so we just switched views, specializing in French peasant cloth from the 18th Century to about the 1840s.
We ended up keeping many of our original Americana-seeking clients because we could sell them pieces that were useful, beautiful, and not at museum prices. We were selling French antiques with an American eye, finding pieces that were classic and beautiful: porcelain objects, serving ware for kitchens, French linens for upholstering, window, and bed coverings.
I think in many ways it was our saving grace…it really wasn’t brilliance on our part, just good timing. And we kept with it, going deeper and deeper into the world of fabric, selling to designers, younger clients, and doing custom work. We recognized the value of the younger clients coming into our store and being awakened by discovering these handmade, home-spun textiles that they had never seen before.
Paul and I went to France on the invitation of a dear friend of mine who was housesitting an apartment in Paris during the winter of 1983. We flew over on New Year’s and stayed for a month. We’d never been before, and set out to explore every single day — walking 10 or 20 miles sometimes. It was so inspiring, seeing all of the small neighborhood shops…we really got to know Paris and it was a life-changing month for sure. In the simplest ways we didn’t realize how much it was affecting our lives.
We went back to France in 1997. When we had gone the first time, a friend suggested we visit southern France, and one of the places she suggested we go was the Luberon in Provence, which is where we ended up buying a space in 1999, and where we have returned to each winter since. In the late 90s, we were into buying and selling pieces that were completely Americana: American quilts and early American cloth. However, it was becoming so difficult for us to buy in a price range we were able to afford. What we were looking for — “peasant cloth,” is what it’s called — was much more abundant and affordable in France, and so we just switched views, specializing in French peasant cloth from the 18th Century to about the 1840s.
We ended up keeping many of our original Americana-seeking clients because we could sell them pieces that were useful, beautiful, and not at museum prices. We were selling French antiques with an American eye, finding pieces that were classic and beautiful: porcelain objects, serving ware for kitchens, French linens for upholstering, window, and bed coverings.
I think in many ways it was our saving grace…it really wasn’t brilliance on our part, just good timing. And we kept with it, going deeper and deeper into the world of fabric, selling to designers, younger clients, and doing custom work. We recognized the value of the younger clients coming into our store and being awakened by discovering these handmade, home-spun textiles that they had never seen before.
Can you share more about the ways that France seeped into your lives in the states?
We both grew up in very humble families and homes…our parents were great people but we both stretched our sights on getting out of our childhood homes and going somewhere and doing something beautiful. In a way, the men and women working the land in Southern France reminded me of my Arizona childhood. The Luberon region is a protected farming preserve, with medieval perched villages sitting above farmland, vineyards, and orchards, with lilac and sunflower fields everywhere. Money has moved in to many of the villages of the Luberon but farming rules the landscape.
Everything they did I admired, from the way they trimmed the orchard trees to the way they organized their work. I saw how they brought together the beauty of nature with the work of man, and realized that the intent is not to be an artist but rather to leave behind beauty. We noticed these subtleties, and together [Paul and my] mantras became: "do not stop until you are pleased,” “you are not finished until it is beautiful,” and “leave beauty in your wake and it will live forever in someone’s eye.”
When we made the move to Maine, I think the first thing that we did was plant French tulips in our garden. It was simple, soft, and honest.
We both grew up in very humble families and homes…our parents were great people but we both stretched our sights on getting out of our childhood homes and going somewhere and doing something beautiful. In a way, the men and women working the land in Southern France reminded me of my Arizona childhood. The Luberon region is a protected farming preserve, with medieval perched villages sitting above farmland, vineyards, and orchards, with lilac and sunflower fields everywhere. Money has moved in to many of the villages of the Luberon but farming rules the landscape.
Everything they did I admired, from the way they trimmed the orchard trees to the way they organized their work. I saw how they brought together the beauty of nature with the work of man, and realized that the intent is not to be an artist but rather to leave behind beauty. We noticed these subtleties, and together [Paul and my] mantras became: "do not stop until you are pleased,” “you are not finished until it is beautiful,” and “leave beauty in your wake and it will live forever in someone’s eye.”
When we made the move to Maine, I think the first thing that we did was plant French tulips in our garden. It was simple, soft, and honest.
Have there been periods that have been stressful or slow? How do you get through these times?
Indeed. We have had and still do have hard, stressful times. So we work harder and believe to our depths that we are onto something bigger and better than we are, even if the outcome is sometimes completely different (and better) than we imagined it to be.
Indeed. We have had and still do have hard, stressful times. So we work harder and believe to our depths that we are onto something bigger and better than we are, even if the outcome is sometimes completely different (and better) than we imagined it to be.
Your partner is your husband, and your home is your shop – your home life and work life and love life are all very tied together. And you two make it look so harmonious and balanced, and not many people can pull this off. So what’s the secret? How do you stay so balanced and make this work?
We are fortunate, truly fortunate. Paul and I started working together when we were doing an addition to our home in Carmel Valley — an emergency phone call to an architect [Paul] who was recommended by a carpenter friend. We really enjoyed working together; our ideas were received by one another with great enthusiasm and neither of us realized that we were falling in love. Our first trip to Paris was kind of the beginning of all that. We found that every minute that we were together was really incredible, and our tastes and our sense of style and our work ethic – it was like the puzzle piece that had been missing in both of our lives. And fortunately for each of us it has grown and we just feel that each day we’re just luckier then we were yesterday.
It’s a blended family: Paul with two girls, me with two boys. They were all young when we took the plunge, but they really all landed on their feet. What we’ve done, I think, is given them permission to take leaps of faith. To lead with your heart and follow intuition. That’s how we’ve lived our lives…we trust our decisions and trust our intuitive selves and that’s been our success. Neither of us came from families that were “special,” except that everyone adored one another, and they were examples of what I really needed in my life. I think our strength is in one another and in our unity. When we disagree, one of us backs off. Seldom do we go forward with a decision if the other one isn’t fully aligned. It’s hard work and good luck and good timing and a lot of passion, and it wouldn’t be a business model that you’d learn in school, that’s for sure. But I think that as long as your heart is in check and your intuition is in check it’s almost foolproof…
Have their been any mentors or role models in your life for your work?
I don’t think so – my mom and dad were huge role models for a marriage point of view, but not from an aesthetic point of view. Neither of our parents had money, but all of them were good workers. I had extremely humble beginnings — and Paul and I live humbly today, thanks to a childhood that was generous in other ways. It was mostly about family. So that generosity extends out: you learn that as you open your home, you fill up with wonderful people.
I don’t think so – my mom and dad were huge role models for a marriage point of view, but not from an aesthetic point of view. Neither of our parents had money, but all of them were good workers. I had extremely humble beginnings — and Paul and I live humbly today, thanks to a childhood that was generous in other ways. It was mostly about family. So that generosity extends out: you learn that as you open your home, you fill up with wonderful people.
We’re always learning and relearning, discovering and rediscovering parts of ourselves. Tell us about what you’re learning about yourself at the present moment.
We are finally learning more about ourselves and how we want to live out our lives here in our home/shop and our new life on Vinalhaven. We work too hard… there is never enough time for all we dream of doing. I want to get out morning and night on the water in my kayak. We have bikes to ride and hikes to take, quarries to swim. We promised ourselves and each other to try harder to do the things we want to do now that we have quieted our lives and made smaller and simpler our home. This precious time is important and we need to give each other and ourselves the permission and time to play.
We are finally learning more about ourselves and how we want to live out our lives here in our home/shop and our new life on Vinalhaven. We work too hard… there is never enough time for all we dream of doing. I want to get out morning and night on the water in my kayak. We have bikes to ride and hikes to take, quarries to swim. We promised ourselves and each other to try harder to do the things we want to do now that we have quieted our lives and made smaller and simpler our home. This precious time is important and we need to give each other and ourselves the permission and time to play.
What does a day off or time off look like for you? Is there such thing as time off for you?
I sort of refuse to set hours for the shop but I still go down there for a few hours each day. Our shop is part of our home and has been for the past 30 years. Last August we took a month off to read, walk, kayak, and forage for our salads. We really don’t have problems finding space in our lives — we have been spending half the year in France since the late 90s. Now, we get up early and typically do yoga and meditate and go for a walk and end our day the same way. And during the space in between we’re either out hunting for antiques or running errands. We cook simple meals at home, and almost never eat out. We eat simply and live simply and work almost isn’t work for me.
I sort of refuse to set hours for the shop but I still go down there for a few hours each day. Our shop is part of our home and has been for the past 30 years. Last August we took a month off to read, walk, kayak, and forage for our salads. We really don’t have problems finding space in our lives — we have been spending half the year in France since the late 90s. Now, we get up early and typically do yoga and meditate and go for a walk and end our day the same way. And during the space in between we’re either out hunting for antiques or running errands. We cook simple meals at home, and almost never eat out. We eat simply and live simply and work almost isn’t work for me.