On getting keyed up at an estate sale

Last weekend netted one of my dream scenario estate sales. All of my lax, random criteria were met or exceeded: family run, out in the country, piles to pick through, displayed nicely but not too nicely, very reasonably priced and there were OUTBUILDINGS (2 of them!).

So many campground signs.

Bonus! (and possible new criteria): The sale was being run by four handsome brothers.

There was just one little flaw at this otherwise perfect sale and I’ll simply refer to that as The Barnacle.*

While passing by the giant FREE pile on my way to the good stuff in Building #1, The Barnacle, who had stacked her purchases next to the free pile, greeted me by saying, “Don’t touch those! They’re mine!” even though the only touching was WITH MY EYES as I walked by.

So many enamel numbers.

 I filled a box with my purchases and left it with brother #3 in building #1 while I headed to building #2 which was manned by brother #4. 

Years of experience with sleeping in arriving at estate sales hours after they’ve opened has forced me to fine-tune my ability to detect things that were missed or skipped over by earlier buyers.

So many interesting old keys.

I reached for a massive ring of keys that had been overlooked because it was hanging between studs on a garage wall and *like magic* there at my elbow was The Barnacle. She hovered behind me to see if I was buying the keys while her husband yelled out from across the garage, “Hon! I can’t believe you missed those keys your first time through here.”

Sorry, Hon.

I now had an estate sale shadow following me and I didn't know why since The Barnacle appeared to have been finished with her shopping when I arrived. Maybe it caused her anxiety to see me swooping in and making piles of the things she rejected. Maybe she thought I knew something about the junk that she didn’t. Maybe missing out on that ring of keys caused her to question all of her life choices. 

We'll never know. 

So many Wheaties cereal prizes - Frank Buck explorer's sun watches. 

I do know at this point there were only two shoppers in this 3-car garage, myself and The Barnacle, and as I dug through a very small box, she suddenly appeared again, standingrightnexttome, and stuck her hands in the same small box where my hands were already busy rummaging.

What exactly was happening here?!

Much to my surprise, my outside voice, which would usually try for a more diplomatic approach at first, just blurted out “Are you stalking me?”  #personalspace

And I was completely ignored. 

At this point I had to make some decisions.

Should I get into a Barnacle-Stalker girl fight in a (handsome) stranger’s garage at an estate sale?

No. Because that is a completely ridiculous idea.

So many old Pacific Northwest license plates.

But if I did, would it affect my ability to buy the stuff I had left behind with (handsome) Brother #3 in garage #1?

Probably. And that would be NOT GOOD.

Could The Barnacle take me down pretty easily?

ABSOLUTELY. Small rambunctious pets have knocked me over. I was no match for her.

So I stepped away from the box and The Barnacle. 

Why? Because there is so much junk in the world, more than enough for everyone, that it’s just not worth being another Barnacle at an estate sale. And I’m more than okay with that.

I did buy the keys. All 446 of them. Sorry, Hon.

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*To describe a tenacious person or thing. 

The post about Farm Chicks 2014 that involves way too many asterisks* (and quite a few parentheses)

Every person attending has a version of this photo on their phone. It's Farm Chicks law. 

After several hours of driving and Skittles-eating, my traveling companion, Pam, and I arrived at the Farm Chicks Antique Show a few hours after the event opened on its first day and I made a beeline to my favorite vendors, the Vintage Linen People.**

I immediately gave them all my money (holds up hands and says “I have this many”) and then got to work selecting the items which would ultimately return home with me to join their friends who were eagerly awaiting them in my vintage linen hoard/stash /collection/whatever-we’re-calling-it-these-days.

I was recognized right away by one of the Vintage Linen People thanks to my repeat performances on the exact same spot in 2011 and 2012. 

Three years later they still remember me because of my previous summit attempts on their vintage linen mountain.  

Vintage barkcloth 1.o

Once completed, this transaction resulted in a drop-off trip to the car because it’s physically impossible to navigate the aisles of Farm Chicks while carrying a garbage bag stuffed with vintage tablecloths, barkcloth and doilies. Trust me on this.

(I secretly suspect those shoppers pushing baby strollers through the Farm Chicks venue don’t have human babies tucked away in there.  I now believe their strollers were filled with toddler-shaped gobs of vintage tablecloths in an effort to avoid multiple trips out to their cars. Smart.

Note to self:  Begin bookmarking folding baby strollers on eBay.)

Vintage barkcloth 1.2

Occasionally I would cross paths with my friend Ethel and her rock star, vintage-toting mom, signaling acknowledgement with just a friendly wave and a nod because Ethel was in her ZONE, a ZONE which prefers to skip over non-essential chitchat while there is still vintage goodness to be discovered.

That’s why dinnertime was invented. For the chitchat.

And I get that.***

Wrinkled. So very wrinkled. 

The second day of Farm Chicks was very similar to the first day for me. I spent some time with the Vintage Linen People (they had replenished AND FOLDED (!) their inventory) and then I moved on to some general junk browsing since the crowds were lighter this morning (that changes quickly as the morning goes on). 

This day I was actually able to see more of what was for sale rather than who was in front of, behind and all around me, buying it before I could reach it.

I exercised great restraint and these signs were my only other purchases and I plan to resell them. 

As if I need one more thing. Or one more vintage tablecloth.

Except maybe for these.

The drive home included one small unscheduled detour because someone was talking while her smartphone GPS was waving its arms in the air, pointing and shouting to let us know TAKE THIS EXIT. NOW.

Whoops.

I made it home eventually, happy with my very own mini mountain of vintage linens.

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*See what I mean?

**Vintage Linen People, if you have a formal business name, I apologize for not knowing what it is and for bestowing you with such a McBasic (yet apt) descriptor. Maybe hang a sign or something? Or not. Whatever.  I love you.

***One of these days I’ll write a post about THE SECRET TEST**** Ethel gave me the first time I ever went junking with her.

****I passed. (spoiler alert)

The postcard post

Mt. Hood

Every once in a while when there are multiples of something vintage for sale and I can’t bring myself to take on the possibly excruciating and/or time-consuming task of cherry-picking only certain ones to buy, I hear Sue of Vintage Rescue Squad whisper in my ear, 

“Ask how much for all of them.”

And I always do what the voices in my head ear tell me to do.

The multiples I’m referring to are vintage postcards. Hundreds of vintage postcards. 

Still counting them.

They’re from the 1960s & 1970s and they depict landmarks and landscapes in and around Portland, Oregon. Everything from snow-covered Mt. Hood, pre-eruption Mt. St. Helens, the Columbia River Gorge, the Oregon Coast and many, many views of the vintage Portland skyline. I’m guessing these postcards are unused inventory from an old souvenir shop.

Crater Lake, OR

I’m a state souvenir junkie and proud of it.

This one is my favorite.

I did end up buying every last one of them with the idea that I would resell them but without the idea of how exactly I would resell them. 

I’m envisioning these being used as save-the-date cards for a vintage-inspired wedding (there are enough for a HUGE wedding) or thank you notes or holiday cards (snowy outdoorsy scenes) or something along those lines. Or perhaps you have an idea?

The Oregon Coast. I've stood in this exact spot many times!

Hundreds of them…

If I pin it, it will come.

Original image can be found here

My current obsession with all things vintage camping rages on and it recently jumped off my Pinterest board and into the backseat of my car.

Just days after I pinned that little plaid camping stove I came across a very similar one, buried in the garage of an estate sale.

I stopped short of a giant squeal of delight when I discovered it but later I turned to the stranger next to me in line to let them know this Very Important News: that-I-just-pinned-this-stove-on-Pinterest-and-now-here-it-is-in-my-hands-and-isn’t-that-amazing? 

Luck was with me since I said it to someone who knows (or was nice enough to pretend to know) what Pinterest is and is tolerant of people who talk to strangers in line at estate sales about random things they find in the corners of garages.

Camping (and outdoorsiness in general) was the theme with some of my favorite finds on my recent road trip with Laurie/Ethel.

 These beauties (Mt. Hood and Crater Lake) were purchased in California & transported back to their home state of Oregon.

This mossy mushroom has already moved on to its new forever garden and may I add a word or two about those blue glass insulators? I don't know much about them other than they're pretty (and were once outdoors) but I always buy them when I can find them for a dollar or less because they're consistent sellers for me. 

I couldn't resist the aqua canteen.

And I bought the birdhouse just for the colors. 

Happy Camper!

Texas Antiques Week 2013 and what started out as the abridged version but then ended up rambling on a bit

Is it okay if we just pretend that since returning from Texas a week ago, I’ve been mentally processing all that which is Texas Antiques Week and was not bogged down by tedious and boring technical difficulties?

La Bahia Event

I knew you’d understand.

Day One, Stop #1. A random tent on the side of the road.

My most amazing traveling companion*,  Laurie/Magpie Ethel has written THE BEST day-by-day account of our trip, from sweet tea to rolling garbage cans and everything in-between,  starting HERE.

Beautiful display by Marburger vendor J Hill Designs

For me, this trip was first and foremost meant to be an adventure into the junking unknown (cue up theme from Star Trek) and a fact-finding mission for possible future trips. I also hoped to do a little buying for re-selling. And be inspired.

Mission accomplished!

A few of these came home to join my collection

Generally, prices were somewhat higher than what I had anticipated which is what happens when junking 2,100 miles out of my very affordable Pacific NW comfort zone.  I had a bit of sticker shock at first but as a reseller, I also understood why the prices were what they were. 

Not-yet-ironed but terribly affordable.

I confess I didn't understand the $125 very-nicely-ironed-but-nothing-I-hadn’t-seen-before vintage tablecloths. Ouch.  

Luckily, I found plenty of tablecloth bargains. 

Why we kept the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on our hotel room door. 

There were definitely deals to be found, especially toward the end of the week when the “50% Off Everything” signs started appearing and in the end I had no trouble at all filling two suitcases. 

To. The. Brim. (Thank you for the suggestion to nest one suitcase inside a larger, empty suitcase on the trip there – worked like a charm).

Good grief, I'm tall.

One of the absolute highlights of this trip was meeting my longtime junking idol, Sue of Vintage Rescue Squad.  It was a thrill to compare notes about junk, reselling and blogging, in person.  

Enamelware bought to resell.

I really do heart the internet all over again when it makes connections like that possible.

Out in left field. 

Sue, Laurie and I shopped the fields one day and I’m not sure which was more interesting … the shopping or watching what each of us gravitated toward.

Overall, I would give the entire Antiques Week experience 5 gold stars!

Marburger vendor A Wilder Place in Time

Would I go back? Of course!  Want to go too? Let’s make a plan for next year!!

*I could not have asked for a better or more compatible traveling / junking companion. Every single day we marveled about how well it was going and we were together, literally, 24/7 which included minimum 12 hours days of driving, junking and eating.  Thank you, Ethel.  You’re a peach. 

Because it’s my week (end).

For my birthday this year, I gave myself the gift of junking.

An entire weekend spent puttering around thrift shops, antique malls and junk shops on the Oregon coast (and a little on the Washington coast as well).

(I think she accidentally left the price tag on it – 50? Fifty? Must be her lucky number ... or something.)

It all began at Monticello Antique Marketplace with some foofing of my space there and coffee with Laurie who brought me this lovely bit of Springtime-in-January, a la Magpie Ethel (her alter ego).

Friended, fortified and foofed, off I went!

A vendor at an antique mall had hundreds of these for sale!

I made it through 4 huge antique malls, 7 8 thrift stores, 3 charming vintage shops and one *awesome* junk stop and saw lots of inspiration along the way.

in the basement at Phog Bounders Antique Mall, Astoria OR

Inspiring antique mall displays 

(I think I need to pack in more in my mall space – I really like this full-to-the-brim look. What do you think? Too much?)

Astoria Vintage Hardware, Astoria OR

Inspiring painted furniture. (Love the black)

Sewing inspiration. 

Bright ideas. (sorry)

Hobo Junction, 105 SW 13th St., Long Beach WA (click photo to enlarge and go nuts!)

And some good old-fashioned junking. This was my last stop and the most fun.

The owner was more than happy to climb over his mountains of treasures and pull out rusty, chippy things he thought I might be interested in while I pretty much wandered around in a daze and tried to take it all in.

The inside of his shop is as fascinating as the outside.

And his prices were more than fair.

You can see more photos of his shop here.

Happy Tuesday to you!