When I moved into my charming 1940s-era house a couple of years ago, I noticed a peculiar little nook in the hallway that instantly caught my attention. It wasn’t very deep, maybe three feet tall, and it had a pointed top like it was trying to be important. I stood there staring at it, completely baffled.

What could it possibly be for? It was way too small to serve as a bookshelf, and believe me, I tried to decorate it with a vase, but the shape and size made that idea look ridiculous. For months, it just sat there, completely empty, doing absolutely nothing except making me scratch my head every time I walked by. Then one day, purely by chance, I was browsing through a forum dedicated to old houses and stumbled upon a photo that changed everything. There it was—an image of a nearly identical niche, and sitting in it was a rotary phone. That’s when it hit me like a ton of bricks: I had a vintage telephone niche built right into my hallway. Suddenly, the mystery was solved, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how cool that was.

I didn’t grow up with a rotary phone in the hallway, since by the time I was old enough to play on the phone, cordless models had already taken over, and I was too busy prank calling friends. But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel the nostalgia. Back in the day, most families had just one phone. Not a smartphone. Not even a portable handset. Just one landline phone attached to the wall, and it was usually located in the hallway—right there in a dedicated nook like mine.

These built-in niches were more than just decorative; they were part of the daily rhythm of home life. They often came with a little shelf for the phone book, a hook for a pencil, maybe even a small light above it to see at night. It was the spot where moms would jot down the grocery list while chatting with their sisters, where teenagers whispered to their crushes after curfew, and where every member of the family probably said “Tell them I’m not home!” at least a dozen times. Once I realized what this forgotten little space had once been, I knew I had to do something fun with it. I considered buying a real rotary phone to make it historically accurate, but turns out, those can be pricey. So I went for a more budget-friendly yet still vintage-inspired route.

I found a reproduction rotary phone in the most perfect mint green—a color that just so happened to match my kitchen tile, not that I’m bragging—and I paired it with a cute little thrifted shelf that cost me five bucks. I topped it off with a faux leather notepad and a cheeky “Call Mom” sign I found on Etsy. And now? It’s a conversation starter. Every single person who visits my home comments on it. One friend walked in and said, “This looks like something straight out of my grandma’s house, only way cooler.” I’ll take that as a win. If you’re lucky enough to have one of these telephone niches in your home, don’t let it go to waste. There are so many fun ways to dress it up. You could go all in on the retro vibe with an actual rotary phone and maybe a framed black-and-white family photo. Or you could add a shelf and tiny spotlight to display vintage books or memorabilia. Make it seasonal with pumpkins in the fall, string lights in December, or pastel decorations in the spring. You can even give it a modern twist and hide a USB charging hub in there—functional and clever. Or turn it into a tiny art gallery with framed prints or a colorful collage. There really is no wrong way to bring this space to life. What’s funny is how I used to walk right past it, barely noticing it. It was just this empty space that blended into the background. But now, it’s a sweet little reminder that homes used to have character, that even the most everyday things like a telephone had their own place and purpose. It may look like just a small recess in the wall, but to me, it’s a tribute to simpler times—when phones were attached to cords, conversations happened without multitasking, and you had to stand still to speak. I’m not about to give up my iPhone, but creating a tiny corner of vintage charm in my hallway? That’s something I’ll always cherish.