Posts filed under ‘stuff’
Of Tchotchkes and Tanning Beds
It was a beautiful day in Buckner, Missouri, a small town east of Kansas city. The weather was much warmer than it should have been for mid-November, so again I found myself at an auction where the sun was way hotter than the buying opportunities. It wasn’t a large auction, but it was interesting. Maybe I’m just overly curious, but auctions, like estate sales, make me think a lot about the people who acquired the stuff in the first place. This family, probably a couple, but maybe they had kids at some point, had a variety of interests to say the least. There was a a lot of Harley Davidson merchandise, although I didn’t see an actual motorcycle, a lot of World War II items–Nazi stuff, even–several beautiful guitars, Gibson and Fender, and then things like fussy painted Victorian vases and other fancy tchotchkes. There were Christmas decorations and the ubiquitous Tupperware in the back yard as well as tools and ordinary looking patio furniture. The house itself had been cleared of all the smalls and held only the furniture to be auctioned later in the day after the sun had set. The only thing that looked interesting to me was a primitive baby stroller, and how that fit in with Harley and Victoriana is anyone’s guess. Given the prices some of these things were going for, though, I knew it would be out of reach for me.
Maybe people just wanted to spend money, but I felt the bidding got pretty crazy pretty fast. There was an older men’s Lucien Piccard watch, not in perfect condition and not particularly beautiful, that went for $360. I looked on EBay and found one similar for comparison. The online bidding, with only a couple of hours to go, is around $189. I’ll follow it until its end, but I don’t think the guy’s going to make much if he was buying it for resale. There was a very pretty Czech malachite glass vase, maybe eight inches tall, with frolicking nudes on it that a local dealer bought for $120, so I know he’s looking for a profit. He might make something, but again on EBay I saw one similar for $199. Maybe these guys did some instant resale research with their smart phones before they started waving their hands around or maybe they were buying them for gifts or maybe they just got caught up in the energy of the sale. I’m still so price sensitive that I cringe at paying more than $20 or $30 for something, and yet I know I’ve overbid on items at auction in spite of myself. I’m getting better.
The only thing I bought was a box of geodes that will make nice little Christmas gifts. If I sell just a couple, I’ll make a profit. The indicator of a worthwhile sale sometimes is whether you can cover gas and I believe I did that at the very least. At this point in my operation, I still enjoy just learning about the myriad things out there. It’s fascinating to me.
But this tanning bed? Not so much.
Waste
I know my business depends on it, but honestly, I’m flabbergasted at some of the things people discard. I found this rug today abandoned on someone’s lawn. Kansas City has been very wet the past two days, so it was so heavy with rain it took quite a bit of effort for me to hoist it into the back of my car. I’m glad the house was abandoned and was on an empty side street–it was not a pretty or dignified sight, me grunting over a ton or so of wet wool. I could tell it was a beautiful rug, though–gorgeous colors and combination of patterns–so I had to have it despite the effort. After I got it home, draped it over my back fence and power-hosed it off, I did a little research. Safavieh rugs like this, from their Rodeo Drive Collection, all wool, hand-tufted and roughly 6 x 9, sell for upwards of $600. Some of the binding needs a bit of mending, but other than that the rug shows very little sign of wear.
I’m very happy to have saved this, but I just have to note how sad it is that we’ve become such a lazy and selfish and wasteful society. If the person who owned this treasure didn’t want it anymore, wouldn’t it have been just as easy to pick up the phone and have Goodwill or Salvation Army or Big Brothers and Big Sisters come and pick it up? There were other items in the pile by the curb that were unsalvageable because of the rain and will now add to the ever-growing pile of junk in the landfill. It truly makes me sick.
To end the rant, I offer you this documentary film recommendation, not quite on the same subject but close. It’s called Waste Land. The film follows Brazilian artist Vik Muniz and his crew around the world’s largest garbage dump in Rio de Janeiro, and in doing so ultimately encourages the establishment of a recycling program in Rio and offers newfound hope for the catadores working the dump. It’s a remarkable movie and it reminds us that this earth of ours deserves way more respect than we’re giving it. And so do it’s people.
Awesomeness Calling
The other day, I posted about how often the search is a very expensive wild goose chase (unless you’re Mike and Frank and have Danielle to give you coordinates to the next “honey hole”). Then there are times you simply fall into something really fun. On Friday, I was driving south on Wornall, a main thoroughfare that usually has lots of garage sale signs on Fridays and Saturdays. For the past, oh, forever, it’s been a royal mess with construction that goes on for miles and miles and miles, so I really have been avoiding it. Since I hadn’t seen any great looking ads on Craig’s List or EstateSales.net, though, I figured it was the best route to take. Right past the Goodwill on the east side of the street, there was a neon green paper sign directing me to an estate sale a couple of blocks away. I could tell from the sign it was a family run sale which usually means pretty good prices if nothing else.
The sale was in a modest house in a modest neighborhood, and a sign indicated that the “enterance” was through the garage. I entered through the garage and every place I looked there was something I knew could sell. I got there later in the morning, so I know there were some great things that had already left, but I almost didn’t care.
A partial list of purchases is as follows:
Three matching like-new Pyrex casseroles with the original box; awesome rusty roller skates, the kind you strap onto your shoes; an old Flexible Flyer sled; a Smith Corona manual typewriter, circa 1950; two adorable vintage umbrellas for little girls, made in Japan; a vintage carrom board with the playing pieces; miscellaneous barware; “white dog” playing cards, unopened (gotta do more research on those); a couple of lamps; a celluloid Phillip Morris cigarette box, made to hold two cartons of cigarettes; AND a red rotary dial desk phone in working order (above).
The family was friendly, the sale was organized, and the prices were just amazing. A man ahead of me in line asked if things were going to be discounted the following day, and I could hardly believe it. The custom, of course, is that on day two of an estate sale, prices are discounted up to 50%, but I almost felt like I was stealing as it was. I did go back the second day and bought the turquoise rotary dial phone I left behind, which wasn’t in nearly as good a shape as the red one, and a few assorted tools for my toolbox, and didn’t feel at all bad paying full price.
A great day in the neighborhood!
World View
I’ve often wondered why people are so attracted to old globes and maps and atlases. Part of the reason, I’m sure, is their visual appeal, but for me it goes deeper than that. I grew up an “Army brat,” and lived in quite a few places around the world. While it sounds exotic, it left me feeling rootless. I’ve lived in Kansas City for so long I don’t even want to think about it, yet still don’t feel this is home. The fact that my daughters all live great distances from me now certainly adds to that feeling. What I consider my truly formative years–high school through late twenty-something–were spent in Northern California and my father retired there, so I guess if pressed I’d have to call that home. My parents are now both deceased, and my siblings and I are not particularly close, so why California I don’t know. There is no home, per se, to go home to. Perhaps because of this rootlessness, I’ve always longed for travel (to find my cosmic home? my fledgling roots that took hold somewhere else?), but haven’t been fortunate enough to do it often. I went to Spain with my eldest daughter last summer after I found myself unemployed, and it only increased my wanderlust. Given the economic circumstances I find myself in, it’s unlikely I’ll be going anywhere soon, so I look at maps and globes.
Recently, I’ve wanted to do something more with the maps and atlases I find than sell them as is–maybe to interact more with the faraway places depicted there. I made some buntings, but didn’t love the outcome, so that project’s on the back burner until I can find an adhesive that is quick, easy to work with and green(ish). The other day, though, the idea of making pin wheels out of the maps came to me and what you see is the result of that endeavor. I found some rudimentary instructions, and adapted them to the materials and my vision. I really love them, and I’ll be taking them down to River Market later today. If they linger there for too long, I’ll bring them home and enjoy fantasizing about where to go next.
A member of my extended family recently passed away after a difficult battle with cancer. At some point before she died, as she was planning how she wanted to be remembered, she decided to have some of her ashes available in little bags at her funeral. At first this seemed a strange thing to do, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized what she wanted. Everyone who took a bag will release her ashes in all the different places they go–her way of being a part of a world she wanted to see.
Before my time is up, my plan is to see more of the places on those pin wheels. At the end, though, I may just decide to join Sara’s ashes if “the grand tour” doesn’t happen in this lifetime–or maybe even if it does.
Post Sale Musings
This past weekend was the October sale at The Mine, and the first weekend that featured an entire second floor of merchandise enabled by a radical expansion and change in ownership status. The second floor is a pretty amazing space–tall, tin-clad ceilings, windows, new carpet, a nice bathroom, street-level doors and, most importantly, space for larger pieces of furniture. The philosophy is that “smalls” are to be used sparingly, and “in context,” so I still have my space on the lower level for my kitchen things–but, I share a small, L-shaped area on the second floor with my friend Jack. It was a challenging puzzle, but we were able to fit in most everything we needed to, and it looked integrated and cohesive. I was happiest that the space could actually fit my metal wardrobe comfortably, and happier still that it sold! I’m getting a little discouraged about lack of sales for the checked pieces–maybe it’s time for another theme. I’ve been snagging the New York Times magazine on Sundays from YJ’s Snack Bar where I meet friends for breakfast, and it’s chock-full of wonderful inspiration. Unfortunately, I’m out of pieces to work on, so the hunt begins in earnest again tomorrow. I would love to find more metal pieces; we’ll see what the junking spirits bring.
It’s also time to focus my search for things that would make interesting Christmas gifts. A few years before I started junking as a business, I initiated a “green Christmas” at my house, which in essence meant nothing purchased for giving could be new. My daughters love it, and we continue the tradition for most things, although I have wrapped up new items if it’s important–like a GPS for my daughter who drives in Southern California. I love it because I find perfect gifts all year long since I’m going to so many more places and more often than before–the biggest challenge is actually saving things for Christmas since it’s so much fun seeing their reactions.
But, there’s always more junk!
(Just for the record, this little grouping was my Halloween tableau. And that’s a vintage carved cocoanut on the right, not a shrunken head. I’ve avoided buying dead things except for the occasional fur piece (don’t judge), even though I’ve seen many a taxidermic hunting trophy sell at different markets for a pretty penny.)
A Delicious Find
I’ve been so busy lately with my markets that I have had to forego the thrill of the hunt. This morning, desperate to pick, I found the only estate sale doing business on Labor Day and headed out. Expectations were low considering the sale was the fourth day of a four-day sale held in a strip mall. As it turned out, most everything was way over-priced, even at 50% off, but as I was dawdling my way through the tables, I found buried a bunch of recipes illustrated with linoleum print artwork. I loved them immediately and bought them all, at one dollar each. I was anxious to research them, but not sure I’d find much. I googled the copyright, Saint Hieronymus Press, Berkeley, and was greeted with a blast from the past. I spent many years in the Bay Area during the onset of the fresh food revolution started by Alice Waters of Chez Panisse, and I realized immediately why I was drawn to these little prints. They were a collaboration between Alice and renowned printmaker, David Lance Goines who was responsible for all of the early Chez Panisse print materials. Her recipes, his artwork–mouth-watering! These prints are part of a portfolio called Thirty Recipes Suitable for Framing published in 1970 and now selling for up to $75.00 per print on various online venues. I don’t anticipate selling these for that much, but I am absolutely thrilled at my find! Given the regional nature of the work, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised they had been overlooked in Overland Park, Kansas. I’ll always wonder, though, if I had gotten there at the start of the sale whether I could have purchased all thirty!
