Can I get your autograph?

I wrote a lame title for this post and I just couldn’t bring myself to use it but it’s dorky enough that it seemed a shame not to share.  Ready?

Vintage Junk Rocks!  

Random junk photo taken on the same day as the other photos in this post... 

Ok, I’ve probably written worse but if you knew how much over-thinking I put into things, you’d understand why I consider that kind of cringe-worthy and once/if you read this post (unless that last sentence was enough to make you turn off your computer or put down your phone or abandon your tablet and leave the area) you’ll understand how lacking-in-subtlety (yet easy) that title would have been.  For me.

Did I mention the over-thinking? Good.

So.

Ditto on this photo. 

There’s been a series of totally random yet very delightful emails showing up around The Land of Into Vintage lately and here’s one example:

Hello,

I was wondering if you would be interested in letting us use the attached photo on an album cover for a small up and coming band called Surviving Allison. It will be used in good taste, and we would give you full credit for the photo on the album.

What?!

You may recall a post from back in the olden days when I took myself out for some birthday junking and snapped these photos while in an antique mall in Astoria, OR (Hi there, Phog Bounders Antique Mall).

 Then that random-yet-delightful email arrived and before I responded, mad googling commenced in order to check out the band, Surviving Allison.  I just wanted to make sure they don't sacrifice unicorns or anything like that.

They don't.

And so my response to the email was a big, ol’ YES.

Days later, this appeared in my inbox.

The designer told me each object with a sales tag represents a member of the band.

No words except maybe “Vintage junk rocks!”

Click here to go to  Surviving Allison's website. 

Or follow them on Instagram here.

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P.S. a HUMONGOUS thank you to everyone who took the time to wish my dear Auntie a happy birthday on my previous post. You are the best. xo  

Mile marker 90.

Please indulge me while I type up this tribute to a favorite vintage person who also happens to be very modern…

She is someone who defines optimism as “…an 80+ year old woman who renews her passport.” (And uses it!)

She’s on Facebook. She’s an email pro and has been for years. 

She knows what in the world airbnb* is and finds it pretty interesting. 

She takes selfies!

Selfie taken while dining on roasted duck & fig crepes from "Planet of the Crepes" food cart

She has a resume that contains the following titles: Award-winning Author, Gourmet Chef, Restaurant Review Writer, Business Owner, and Hotel Social Director.  (There are more. This is just the highlight reel. )

Former Social Director at the beautiful Broadmoor Hotel

She found her great love at age 80 and married him.

She is a tireless cheerleader for reconnecting far-flung family members.

She induces anxiety by asking this visiting short order cook to prepare dinner for her. (See previous reference to “Gourmet Chef” and “Restaurant Review Writer.”  Sheer terror, I tell you.)

Celebrating something or another 

She reduces anxiety by introducing visiting short order cooks to Prosecco, Limoncello, and Bellinis.

She shares a rare genetic disorder with yours truly that involves the acquisition of pretty vintage dishes. So many dishes. We can’t be stopped but probably should be.

She appreciates beauty all around her, especially in her home and her garden. 

She dresses so stylishly that someone needs to put her on the pages of Vogue.

She reads my blog, refers to me as a writer and encourages and supports all of my endeavors.

All of this (and much, much more) describes my Auntie Phyllis, who turns 90 today.

I would love and appreciate it so much if you would please wish her a “Happy Birthday” in the comments below.  Thank you.  ♥

Photo borrowed from her Facebook page 

Ninety!  Love you, Auntie!  xo

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*airbnb.com

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.

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)

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!

Do you see what I see?

All photos can be clicked to enlarge

Or maybe the real question is, “Do you want to see what I see?”

Or even “Would you want to see what I see?”

Because if you do, you can.

My friend Ethel has gotten me hooked on yet another internet time vacuum fun way to share those random vintage moments that pop up throughout the day and if you’d like to come along, you can see photos of them as they happen.

Whoa.

That’s right! For example, when I spy a piece of rare vintage barkcloth and it's not for sale, you can feel my pain in real time!

I can only guess that the question you’re now asking yourself is, “Where in the world do I sign up for that?!”

On Instagram.  

It’s a great way to feel confident and assured that you’ll never miss an exciting moment such as this:

Or this:

Or even this:

All with riveting captions from me and occasional comments from the internet.

I’m addicted.

So if you want to see what I see, just follow along on your smartphone. It’s easy to download the free Instagram app and follow IntoVintage. The app also allows you to leave comments and to heart the photos that you, well, heart.

The other option for viewing photos on Instagram is to use it on your computer via the Instagram website.  You can also take a sneak peek of my photos by clicking here.

I follow lots of my favorite bloggers along with new-to-me vintage loving folks I discovered while exploring Instagram.

And if you’re posting your photos on Instagram, please leave me your Instagram user name in the comments section so I can see what you see too.

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!