I just don't get commercial nostalgia.
New structures designed to look storied. Freshly minted chairs masquerading as 19th century Americana. "Distressed" jeans. "Faux" finishes.
Charming places and things gain genuine appeal when they serve real lives over time, like these lonely posts.
There is nothing "faux" about this distressed remnant of a fence along a trail I enjoy out in the Hill Country northwest of Austin.
It does nothing now, except the critical work of evoking another time.