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!

A little hodge mixed in with some podge

For some reason, I want to say mod podge even though I mean hodge podge.

It’s possible I have a mild case of Craft Brain.

This little vintage camera was purchased while on a recent non-junking trip.  (and yet, the junk still found me)

That’s right, I do my souvenir shopping at Salvation Army thrift stores.

And I needed a cheap suitcase. Somehow the things I brought along on the trip multiplied or expanded or exploded but in any case, another suitcase was required for the return trip.

It was good practice for Texas.

There’s some mini-purging going on around here.

When a drawer hasn’t been opened in so long that I don’t know what’s in it, it’s time.

A recent shot of my mall space at Monticello.

Do you see the ‘swan’ decoys? I found those on my junk trip to the Oregon Coast.

They remind me of what an odd assortment of stuff has taken a ride in the back of my car over the years.

It’s been quite a while since I’ve uttered the phrase ‘Doily Factory’ here but at long last the cobwebs have been removed, scissors sharpened and fabrics sorted and I do believe my sewing dry spell is over.

If you’re in the Portland, OR area this weekend, don’t forget to check out Plucky Maidens Junk Fest! I’ll be there shopping the junk on Sunday.

Hope you have a wonderful week ahead!

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!

Memorandum

TO: Thrift Store Owners and Operators

DATE: November 27, 2012

RE: Vintage Christmas Inventory

It has come to my attention after an unannounced inspection of your shops this morning, despite the fact it is now 5 full days after Thanksgiving, many of you are not yet in compliance with the GYVCIOOTSN(P)* directive sent down from corporate.

As a courtesy, you will be allowed an additional 48 hours to bring your shop up to code prior to the next round of visitations.

Failure to do so may result in a fit and/or tears from one extremely disappointed shopper.

Please make every effort to prevent this.

With your cooperation, we can all have the very best vintage Christmas season ever.

*Get Your Vintage Christmas Inventory Out On the Shelves Now (Please)

Jadeite enthusiasts, please stand up.

And step forward.

I need your help, please.

The other day, while shopping for two hours (!) in a Goodwill store, the majority of that time spent having a miniature heart attack in the dish aisle, which, as we know, I have no business being in let alone loading a shopping cart full of all kinds of heart-attack-inducing dinnerware, I now have a question:

How do I tell if these plates are vintage Jadeite (or not)? They have no particular pattern and no identifying marks at all. 

That worries me.

Should I be worried?

A pretty pair of Blue Ridge Pottery plates

Another Goodwill shopper seemed to think they’re vintage and I base that solely on her reaction when she saw them in my cart and asked, “Do you know that those plates are collectible?!”

My outside voice: “Yes, I do.”

My inside voice: “Yes, I do. They’re in my cart. Stop touching them.”

The latest additions to my personal mix-&-match collection of (indestructible) vintage Japanese stoneware

She also asked me, “Do you know what they’re worth?!” (nicely, but in the do-you-have-any-idea-what-you-have-there-because-if-you-don’t-I’ll-take-them-off-your-hands-for-you way)  

Outside voice, not wanting to disappoint:  “I think so.”

Inside voice:  “No clue. Just hoping it’s more than the $2 Goodwill wants for them.”

Resale score! Bunches of Haviland Limoges

We smiled and agreed it was a very good day at Goodwill.

Inside voice: “Yes, it is.”

(Thank you for your help with my question.)

Three Lots for Three Bucks

Price: $0

This bunch of dishes was in the free box outside the door of my local Senior Center Thrift Shop.

They were free in the financial sense but there was a price of another sort waiting in the box.

All of the dishes were stuck together in a big, gooey glob by what I think/hope was chocolate syrup.

At least that’s what I’m telling myself it was.

Free.  Focus on the Free.

Price: $1

I would have gladly paid twice that because when it comes to vintage Christmas,  I. Am. Weak.

Price: $2

I didn’t even look through this mountain of sewing patterns found at a yard sale – for $2, all of them went straight into the car with plans to use the tissue pattern pieces for wrapping any breakables sold at my next vintage event.

Until I started unpacking the box when I got home.

Some of these patterns are charming.

And some of them are horrifying.

But they all represent one woman’s lifetime of sewing:  For her younger self, her married self, her young daughters, teenage daughters and eventually, her granddaughters.

So much for my wrapping paper plans…

~~*~~*~~*~~

Wishing you a wonderful 4th of July!

Beyond beadazzled

A recent visit to a local thrift store revealed a disturbing new process regarding their Christmas inventory…

I think they’re selling it by the pound.

As far as I can guess, somewhere behind the swinging doors of the mysterious ‘Employees Only’ area is a giant, roiling pit, filled with Christmas things.

From this pit, the employees pack shovels-ful of Christmas into very large, clear plastic blanket bags. 

If you have x-ray vision, it’s possible to see one of everything ever remotely related to Christmas, across many decades of décor, crammed into these bags which are then dumped onto the sales floor and left to fend for themselves.

And there I am, pawing my way through one of these bags, which is clearly marked "Do Not Open, except for you, Amy," and what do I find buried in the midst of the tangled tinsel, plastic holly and strings of burned out lights?

This.

And this.

Somehow both ornaments remained completely intact despite having been (possibly) shoveled from a pit into a bag. Could this be a Christmas miracle? I think so.

But what really caught me by surprise in that bag were these.

I can’t begin to imagine the number of hours and finger pricks it took to create these pins + beads + sequins ornaments and to me, they are shiny, tacky, gaudy, beautiful, flashy, flawless handmade treasures.

That’s right.  I’ve gone to a place I never thought I’d go:  The world of sequins.

Please send help.