The vintage Pyrex casserole-with-see-through-stand-and-warming-basket-in-mint-condition-shaped hole in my head.

For someone who rides the junkin’ rails on a nearly daily basis, I completely managed to miss the train to Pyrexville.  

I realize many of you Pyrex People have been bringing home mixing bowls and refrigerator sets for eons but for those of us just waking up to the Pyrex experience (HelloMyNameIsAmy), I feel as though in the last year or so, there has been a sudden EXPLOSION of Pyrex collecting, hoarding, sharing and selling.

Or does everyone feel like that when they're the last one to catch on?

Gina has vintage Pyrex junk in her trunk.

Melissa sells her Pyrex finds on eBay.

Then there are the Two (Pyrex Crazy) Thrifting Sisters. A google image search of them is Pyrex-crazy indeed!

Click the photo to go to Pyrex Collective I

And there’s not just one or even two Pyrex Collectives – there are three of them! With links to even more Pyrex-loving types pyrexing their hearts out.

Click the photo to go to Pyrex Collective II

and you guessed it, click the photo to go to Pyrex Collective III

And me?

I’ve taken one lonely photo of other people’s Pyrex, because I liked the display, not because I have a clue about anything Pyrex.

On Instagram, this is my #1 hearted photo -- it outhearted any Vintage Christmas photo I’ve posted so far -- who knew?! I mean, you probably knew but I DID NOT KNOW. About the w i d e s p r e a d love of Pyrex.

In an effort to signal my late entry into the Great Pyrex Awareness of the 21^st Century, I’ve started a Pyrex (and more) collection of my own, safely contained on a Pinterest board where it won’t take up space at home, be washed in a dishwasher or get chipped or broken.

Pyrex poster is from etsy shop Pocono Modern 

Live and learn.  SO much to learn.  Now hoping to find a Pyrex for Beginners support group.

I need to know.

Before I get started here let me just say that this much I already know:  I am a vintage dish junkie and therefore have NO BUSINESS whatsoever prowling around the dish aisle of a Goodwill thrift store BUT once I’m in the store I feel it’s my moral obligation to check out every. single. aisle. including the one with the lame used sporting goods (deflated soccer ball or random golf clubs anyone?) and so there I was.  

Doing my civic duty in the dish aisle. In the name of junking. Which sounds an awful lot like junkie.

For the most part I kept my hands to myself but while eavesdropping on two people discussing Pyrex (free continuing ed class over in housewares!)  I spied some pretty little plates and here comes a(nother) confession:  I have become THAT PERSON. The one who whips out her phone in Goodwill to google the item in her hand before making a potentially heinous mistake involving fours of dollars by taking a pass on something that maybe she should have bought but didn’t.  Because of the fours of dollars involved.

And now I’m also that person who refers to herself in the third person.

And it was just four dollars.

I really don’t know how to explain that part of the equation. It’s not like they cost forty dollars because then PROBLEM SOLVED.

The tipping point. 

Back to the dishes. The magical, pretty dishes that had many interesting things happening. A nautical theme. Not one but two marks on the back (mad googling begins here!) and those marks involved the words ENGLAND and FAMOUS ARTISTS. Surely those are good signs. And the crazing. I love crazing. And they were pretty. And I’d never seen them before. And they were pretty.

Oh that crazing...

Hands over four dollars.

Despite my frenzied googling at the store and later again when my dishes and I got home, I still couldn’t determine specifically who the “famous artists” were and somehow not knowing disturbs me.  If I were putting the works of “famous artists” on my merchandise (and adding a second china mark specifically explaining that they were made by “famous artists”), I would say in BIG HUGE LETTERS who the “famous artists” are.

A painting by a "famous artist." 

And now I feel as though the internet is keeping secrets from me. Because everything about everything is on the internet by now, isn’t it?

I will keep looking.

A Pain in the Grass

About an hour after I bought this thing on a recent road trip, I had some serious buyer’s remorse.  

 

Now that I think about it, my remorse started to set in as I lugged it across the street from the thrift store where I purchased it in order to put it in the car (which sounds much easier to do than it actually is).

By the way, as far as foreign objects in the back of a Subaru go, an anchor is very close to the top of the list of things to avoid.  It takes up an awkward amount of space, is impossible to pack around and, in a true crime against the senses, IT RATTLES.

CONSTANTLY.

As we rolled down the highway, this thing jangled, clinked and clanked in a way that could only result in a series of tiny-yet-constant mental seizures for me so at one point I pulled it out of the car (this too sounds much easier than it actually is) and went at it with a pair of pliers, 100% ineffectively, just to try to make the (insert any curse word here) clinking stop.

 (Issues alert: I once pulled my car over on the freeway to silence a suitcase zipper pull that was jiggling just a little, a sound not detectable by any human ears other than mine).

Another member of the exclusive Anchors Anonymous club. 

I quickly learned that when you’re the person in the car who BOUGHT AN ANCHOR and that clanking, awkwardly-shaped anchor is eating up precious cargo space, you pretty much have to go along with just about anything your traveling companion buys, says or does.

Because you are the person who put an anchor in their car.

 “May I have a sip of water, please?”

“No, because you bought an anchor.”

“May I get out of the trunk and ride in the car now?”

“No, because you bought an anchor.”

“Are we there yet?”

“No, because you bought an anchor.”

Lather, rinse, repeat.

Not Subaru-friendly. 

Once at home, I sent the anchor straight to storage because we needed some time apart to think about where this relationship was going and don't you know it, I suddenly started seeing anchors everywhere.*

4,852 likes can't be wrong, can they?

And then this post popped up on Facebook, courtesy of Mike Wolfe American Picker. 

Justified.

*Three anchors probably don’t indicate an impending anchor-décor-trend but it’s all I’ve got to go with.  

JUNE 16, 2014 UPDATE:
 Thrilled to report that ten days after I dropped anchor at Monticello Antique Marketplace, it sold! Turns out it's just as awkward in an antique store as it is in the back of a Suburu.  Anchors away!

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…

This week’s Moments-in-Vintage brought to you by the camera on my phone

 

 

I came across these books, organized by color, in the same local shop where I bought the gigantic typewriter.

 

That lone red book mixed in with the blue ones cracks me up for some reason. Either it’s a deliberate part of the design or some shopper was really not paying attention to what was happening on these bookshelves.

Wouldn’t an entire bookcase filled with hundreds of red & green books be amazing at Christmastime? Will someone please get on that and report back? Much appreciated.

 

 

This piece of big, heavy mid century awesomeness was a mere $20 at a yard sale this morning and the sellers delivered it, in a truck, to my garage.  I marvel at $20 furniture.

And motivated sellers.

Which brings us to something I have been dreading to share with you but in the interest of full disclosure, I feel I must.

 

The cow has been nicknamed 'van Gogh.'

This photo was snapped out in the Garage Where Cars Can’t Park while waiting for my yard sale furniture to be delivered.

Blow mold central.

And possibly future additions to the "What was I thinking?" pile.

 

 

Concluding these moments in vintage, a view from a walk.

On the Old Highway.

Hope this weekend brings you some vintage moments.

 



My Corona

 

 

 

 

 

It’s kind of a dusty mess but I love it.

 

I had to haul it up a flight of rickety stairs from the one and only antique store in my neck of the woods.
 

It weighs almost as much as I do.  (Please let me have that dream.)

 

 

Can you imagine if this was on your desk at work? A lot of elbow room is required. The carriage is over two feet long.

 

 

My favorite key? The ‘Floating Shift’ for no particular reason. I think it’s the font that won me over.

Word on the street (and by street, I mean internet) is there’s only one operating typewriter factory left in the world.

 

 

Part of me wants to keep it but I think I’m going to need a bigger typing table.

 

 



Just because I like to say 'Doodads'

 

I don’t recall when it began but at some point I started setting aside little vintage doodads that turn up in the boxes and bags of things I bring home from yard sales and thrift stores.*
 

A fleet of little sleighs came mixed in with vintage Christmas ornaments.

 

Itty, bitty deer appeared.

 

Tiny, tiny white mice were found in the bottom of a bag. (These are a tremendous improvement over my last experience…)

 

Little candy baskets started stacking up along with the occasional googley-eyed glitter bird. (Blogger’s spell check rejects all of my versions of ‘googley.’ )

 

Bells of all shapes and sizes.

 

And one spun head.

All of these doodads end up in a bag marked ‘Ethel’ because The Vintage Crafter will know exactly what to do with them.

 

 

 *Despite bringing home boxes and bags of things from yard sales and thrift stores, I swear on my stack of newspapers from 1987 that I am not a hoarder. 

 



Rust. Ick. : The Goods

A few of the things uncovered, dug up, pried loose and unearthed while picking out at the *secret weapon.*

   Opening the door of this mailbox to see what was inside brought immediate prophetic visions of the slithering reptiles who decided the accommodations were so delightful that perhaps they would winter here as well.

Fortunately, the only occupants were vacated wasp nests. And yet I was certain I would find the one stupid snake that thrives in freezing weather and DOES NOT want to be disturbed.

Redirecting crazy snake thoughts toward that chippy aqua window…

So many little bottles. I wish I had more of them because they sell so well. Why does it seem as though so many are fond of the little bottle? Several of the bottles still hold a bit of their original, mysterious potions.

Maybe I just answered my own question.

And let’s not overlook the handsome and rustic metal toolbox. Perfect for carrying many little bottles.

Lovely old metal egg crates. Dried weeds were included at no extra charge.

Metal letters that were sold to me by the pound. (?!)

One lone drawer that will be making its debut in my antique mall space as a vertical display shelf.

And some of the countryside’s finest in this year’s rust.

Please have a fabulous weekend.