I just wanted to share this photo of an antique street cleaner because it reminds me of one of my fondest memories. Every Forth Of July, I love watching not the parades, but my dad‘s face. He always has such joy watching the street cleaners or street sweepers clean up all the crepe paper, bullet casings, horse poo, and other stuff left behind by the parade participants.
This antique film negative is of a street cleaner in Berlin, German, dating to the 1910s; found via bondman2.
While interviewing the charming and delightful artisan behind I Sew Cute and As Luck Would Have It, I naturally had to ask her if she was a collector too…
Someone told me that if you have three of anything, then you have a collection. If that’s true, then I have dozens of collections!
I guess if there’s one thing I collect — by seeking it out & keeping track of the items I already have, it would be my collection of vintage and antique children’s spoons.
Some of the pieces I have are from my own childhood & the collection just grew over the years. I love that they’re a warm fuzzy reminder of the joy of childhood, as well as being functional for every day use. My kids use them, so they don’t just sit in a drawer getting dusty. I keep them in a jelly jar right in the kitchen where we can grab one in a pinch.
When did you start collecting them – or admit to yourself you were collecting them?
During my college years I started really seeking out new old spoons. I’m still a big kid at heart & don’t have fine china. We have Warner Brother’s Fiesta ware that I pull out for really special occasions & holidays. Good thing I married a guy who’s young at heart too!
You said you track them… How so?
I have a list in a moleskine sketchbook which I keep in my bag, just in case I stumble upon some at a flea market or online.
How many do you have in total?
Gosh, I’ve never counted them! Ballpark guesstimate? Around 20-25 and growing, of course.
Are they silver, or “just” metal?
I believe most of the larger ones are just silver plate or stainless steel, but a few of the wee baby spoons I have are silver.
Do you look for certain makers, characters? What makes you add a spoon to your collection — what must a spoon do to charm you?
I am not concerned at all about the manufacturers. If a spoon has a fun, whimsical, cartoony character and is in relatively decent condition, I’m going to pull out the list. The most recent ones I added were a Donald Duck and a Mickey Mouse found in a vintage shop on Etsy.
Aside from the “Can I afford this?” do you pay any attention to the monetary value of spoons?
No, I’m not collecting them because of their monetary value.
Do you have a favorite spoon?
My Snoopy and SpaghettiOs spoons are my two favorites because I’ve had them since I was a child — and I still remember how special I felt to have them. I knew someone bought them for me because they loved me. Kind of silly or sappy isn’t it? But it’s how I felt and still feel when I look at those two spoons!
It doesn’t sound silly at all — and I think “sappy” is one of the best reasons to collect.
You can keep up with June the spoon collector at her blogs: I Sew Cute and As Luck Would Have It.
ANTIQUIPS GETS A REPLY TO OUR BLOG
Our last article mentioned our frustration trying to find good antique shops while on the Carolinas’ coastal area. We drove down to Charleston, SC from North Carolina for sightseeing with our traveling companions with no time left that day for antique shopping. Our first break came in finding the Cottage Antiques in North Myrtle Beach and with the owner Malinda’s directions to other shops, we filled our day with antique shopping and suitcases with collectibles and antiques.
In a response to our article, Clyde from Charleston wrote to explain our great loss by not antiquing in his area. His website is dedicated to the wonderful experience of exploring the shops nearby. We wrote to ask for an interview and here is our correspondence.
Clyde’s inspiration for developing a website dedicated to Charleston’s antique shops was simply a lifelong passion for antiques, his knowledge of shops in the area and the great people involved in the antique business. He decided to become his own web designer, and learn the tricks of design from the bottom up. Clyde is at that point where he has designed for others as well. He also writes for Examiner.com on the topic of antique shopping in Charleston. All the the time and energy needed to publish his website on Charleston’s shops, is his own. From the time it takes to visit each place and photograph the antiques, to rewriting with the latest info, Clyde does it all.
Pick: “When did you start collecting?”
Clyde: “When I was 12, My great aunt took me antiques shopping.”
Grin: “ What’s your major collection?”
Clyde: “I collect mostly furniture. I like old book cases that I can restore and sell.”
Pick: “Where do you find your items?”
Clyde: “ Antique shops, newspaper ads, yard sales, thrift stores, antique shows and garbage piles.”
Grin: Well that sure runs the gambit. Can we come along to your next visit to our favorite, the garbage pile?”
Pick: “Leave me out.”
Grin: “Are there items you wish you had bought, but passed up?
Clyde: “That is a long list. The odd thing about antique shows, if you do not buy it, you can’t go back to get it. It’s just gone.”
Pick: And if you do buy it, odds are you’ll see a cheaper, better example next week.
Grin: Any words of wisdom for our readers?
Clyde: “You often have to have the time and resources to do the research to be sure the item is what you believe it to be.”
Pick: Thanks Clyde for visiting with us. And readers if you have suggestions on great shoppes in your area for antiques, crafts or collectibles, add a reply so others can share your good fortune in hunting while traveling on the road.
Pick & Grin On Vacation
While it’s great to be back, vacations are a time to relax and enjoy some good times with good friends and see new sights. Our recent trip to North Carolina, included a visit into Charleston, South Carolina and a grand tour of many of the city’s historic sites, with the magnificent architecture of very early America.
None of our vacation trips are ever complete without antique shopping and we planned to spend one full day in the Myrtle Beach area and several mornings on the coastline around our vacation condo in Calabash, NC. Our routine before leaving is a check on the net for antique shops in the area of our vacation, then call to confirm hours of operation. This is to insure we are not headed to some place on the one day of the week they are closed.
With disappointment, the North Carolina coastal area and the South Carolina border where we were staying proved to be completely devoid of antiques, even if the word “Antique” is on their signage. Since our adventures had brought us to the Myrtle Beach area in the past, we knew fitting a day trip into our week was a necessity.
Heading south on Hwy. 17 we spotted an open sign at Cottage Antiques at 1315-C Highway 17 North in North Myrtle Beach,
Phone (843) 249-7563. Looking like a small storefront shop, our first surprise was the depth and width of the physical layout and the scope of the antiques inside. Pick was immediately drawn to the jewelry displays and quickly secured several pieces for her collection. We found lots to buy and a great deal of things to admire, but when you’re flying instead of on a driving vacation, size matters. Several sad irons caught my attention and we were intrigued with a soap bottle in red glass, but left them there for your next visit. Melinda runs the shop and knows her antiques and gave us some hints on other places to visit after she saw the type of items we were interested in purchasing.
Passing several more shops further down on Hwy. 17 that Melinda mentioned but felt they normally didn’t have the type of stock that would interest us, we went to one more location on her short list, and it turned out to be worth the jaunt to the Fox & Hounds Antique Mall at 160A Rodeo Drive, Myrtle Beach (843) 236-1027, off Hwy. 501. They had lots of small items we could fit in a suitcase for the trip home located in front cases as we walked in. Next time we’ll drive when we vacation to that area and will empty the whole place, including great items in most booths that just would not fit into our suitcases.
We mention these two with the hope you will have as good a shopping experience as we found.If you have an exceptional antique store in your area, and feel our readers should hear about them, give us a reply back. We will continue to feature places we stop at that may interest you in your search for vintage and antique items.
Just a note!!
Our ideal shop or mall is one that meets these guidelines:
The owner / dealers have a well-stocked selection of antiques and vintage items and keep out reproductions and new items. The best places have age limits on the items sold. The store aisles, booths and cases are clean and free of clutter, items are nicely displayed, identified, priced and conditions are noted.
A clear consistent sale or discount policy is in place.
I also like to converse with people that are collectors, and understand our passion in searching for antiques. A helpful staff or owner can make the experience doubly enjoyable.
Hello again, Grin here, Pick is out shopping in one of those bedroom communities where the old stores that once housed the local butcher, baker and bookie, now are home to the crafts crowd, crepes kitchen and bobbles and bangles boutique. So I’m left to ponder what’s new in our antique world.
Wait, is “new in our antique world” an oxy moron? Or am I just dumb.
It appears we have turned the corner and sales are up this year over last, and that gives us greater reason to be hunting for antiques and collectibles. Even our success rate at finding items at garage sales has been better.
Our recent travels have taken us to several shops that are new to us, in areas remote to our home. An estate sale in one of the better neighborhoods produced some great finds and a shop in Northern Illinois can keep the lights on and pay the rent from all the items we carted out to the van on our last excursion. I suppose our sightseeing along the Mississippi river was more of a buying trip than it was watching for eagles, but that’s the nature of all our travels.
In case you have not guessed from past posts, Wifey (Pick) has been selling antiques so long, some items she sells now were purchased
new but now qualify as near antiques. Her “on-line” business is about eleven years old and requires lots of stock replenishing. Flea markets in the summer months are for purging items not sold on the net or too inexpensive to justify the time and energy to list. It also works better for selling larger items such as furniture. And flea market selling is lots of fun and provides interaction with customers and fellow sellers that just doesn’t occur with on-line sales.
Now back to the subject of buying. How can she find items to sell and make a profit, especially at antique stores and malls? Well, it’s more work than you would believe. Experience is the main ingredient, knowing what is collectible, at what price. Then the searching begins, at all and every place that sells antiques and selected collectibles. With magnifying glass and magnet in hand, a GPS in the car, it’s off to explore. The American Pickers are amateurs with limited focus on old metal compared to Pick’s picks.
Just look at the items from recent jaunts, and you’ll understand the broad range of what her customers are looking to collect. Finding these treasures, means looking for the one item another seller or collector has no interest in and greatly undervalues. The best example? Well, let’s take decks of playing cards, a hot collectible just now. Found everywhere, many decks were giveaway advertising from the local feed store to major airlines. I have seen recent prices range from $3.00 to $15.00 per pack in the same antique mall. And what is hot with collectors? Right now it’s the cute little kitten, lovely lily, a tax stamp still attached to a sealed deck, or the styling on and Ace of Spades. Just don’t place your bet on an airline that flew the world, they must have given out a billion decks to bored boarded passengers.
OH!! NO!! Pick is back from her excursion to latte land, with no new, old things purchased. WOW, how sad.
Pick: That was such a fun auction we went to the other night! Lots of variety, friendly crowd, and it moved along quickly too. My favorite thing was the treasure we got, almost a piece of your family heritage!
Grin: I started my inspection of the items going up for auction at the far end of the hall, and had found several pieces that were of interest. When I finally got to the second last table, there were the three items from the old Gridley Dairy that my grandfather had worked at during the (first) Great Depression.
Pick: You showed me the paper sign, amber-colored milk bottle and the mini-milk can and I could tell you were excited by them. You turned the can around to show the company’s name and location and even the date of “1935.” I asked if your grandpa would have worked there then and you exclaimed “Yes.”
Grin: Over the years, I have bought a couple of bottles with Gridley on them and some paper advertising in the form of recipe books. Nothing expensive, nor rare or too exciting. They are in our Depression-era farm and advertising collection, resting on our antique oak ice box.
Pick: This was a large auction and had numerous items for sale. But we were relieved to see those items brought up front early for bidding. The paper sign was first and I asked if I should bid for it.
Grin: When bidding started, I contemplated trying to get the sign, but the price soon escalated past what I considered to be reasonable. Paper is pretty delicate and not easily displayed when not framed.
Pick: When the runner held up the can and the bottle, I was “at the ready” to bid, asking you how high I should go. They were offering “choice of the two”, meaning we could get one or the other for the bid-price. The bidding was pretty active with three of us in early, then down to two. Our price came and went and I still bid a few more times, but alas, we realized we could not get the can. But to our surprise, the bidder took the bottle and they re-opened bidding. We got it for half what our top bid would have been.
Grin: Part of my interest in this milk can was its size. It can easily be displayed inside the house and not stuck in the garden or on the driveway where some of our other milk cans have been placed. I am not sure what the contents of this can might have been but have a suspicion that it was used In a commercial setting. It have been used to deliver heavy-cream to a bakery or restaurant.
Pick: Well, you know how we love to send things back home! That is the ultimate recycling. We have shipped collectibles back to their original owners quite a few times and that just tickles us. Remember the Ruby Farms thermometer?
Grin: That one went back to the granddaughter of the original owner. And how often do we send advertising items found on our travels back to the city of their origination? Many times!
These are going to collectors that have an interest in preserving part of their town’s history.
Pick: Another thing we sold that brought fond memories to a buyer was the calendar from the dairy near Madison, Wisconsin. The winner kindly shared with us that he had worked that very farm in the 1960s, alongside his favorite cousin.
Grin: Didn’t you just tell me about another treasure that you sent back home?
Pick: Oh, you mean the ashtray. It was from the Golden Zither Restaurant in Milwaukee. The winner was so happy to get it. He got engaged to his wife in that very restaurant many years back. They are close to their 40th anniversary and he is planning to give it to her as part of their gift. Oh, how romantic!
Grin: We’ll have to share other ‘recyling’ stories down the road. I just read about a nearby auction…
A couple of years ago, my son Hunter scored a sweet purchase at a garage sale: a NFL All-Pro Football game (Ideal # 2520-5, from 1967) for $3. He helped me review the vintage National Football League board game too, which prompted an email from Larry — and if you ever wondered why I spend so much time documenting (babbling about) collectibles online, Larry’s email ought to clue you in.
Larry’s email tells the tale of how nostalgia and childhood memories drive us to “buy back” or collect, of how our desires can frustrate and elude us because we just can’t see the name on the cover… And how writing online can save the day!
Here’s what Larry wrote (with photos of Hunter & his vintage All-Pro Football game mixed in):
I have been poking around on the internet intermittently for months/years, (not in an obsessed kind of way, but in a once-in-a-great while, when-the-wife-and-kids-are-in-bed, all-other-husbandly, fatherly, business-related-things-are-done kind of way,) unable to figure out the game I used to play at my grandparents’ house in the country with my cousin when I was a little boy.
I couldn’t for the life of me remember the name, or if I did, how the heck I’d hunt it down. I remembered it being a very generic-type name (alas, All Pro Football,) and remembered vividly what it looked like, and that was all. My grandparents were dirt poor and had few games, (& maybe just this one,) in the house. Most of our fun was comprised of finding things to do outside with sticks, rocks, railroad tie nails and anything else we could find. I’m in my mid-40’s now, remembered this game once I saw it as if I played it yesterday, with the board, game pieces, etc… Obviously, Hunter is a lucky boy to have found the real thing!!
Both of my grandparents are deceased and no one in my family either a) remembers the game I’m talking about or b) would have any idea where it could’ve possibly ended up after they moved all the family belongings off the farm. I’m sure it ended up getting thrown away, was ruined from being stored in their cellar, pieces lost, etc., or a hundred other negative possibilities.
I’m not trying to pry or badger, but I would give anything to own a piece of my childhood again and have something that instantly reminds me of my more innocent, carefree days at their farm, and everything that went with being there. I have two children of my own now, 11 and 6, and wouldn’t dream of asking one of them to give something up that became precious to them, but if Hunter ever grows tired of the game and, (contrary to his promise!), would ever dream of letting it go, I would pay handsomely for the chance to have it. …I am not a collector of any sort, nor do I do any (real) looking or know the avenues where I could get hold of the board game myself.
Thanks for taking the time to read the ramblings of a total stranger — I hope Hunter enjoys the game and it possibly creates memories later for him as it does for me, and if there’s ever a time you would consider selling it, I would jump at the chance to discuss purchasing it.
Sincerely,
Larry
The bad news is that Hunter’s not interested in selling his vintage NFL All Pro Football game. Nor do I have another one here to offer you (if and when I do, I will email you!)
But the good news for Larry (and other fans of the game) is that now that you know the name of the game you can check out eBay and other online sales venues. Try searching for (or clicking these links to the searches for) NFL “All Pro” Football game as well as ideal “All Pro” Football game
.
Now that you know the name of the game you so vividly remember and so touchingly talk about, Larry, I can’t imagine why you wouldn’t search for it and buy it as soon as possible. It’s clearly not “just a game” to you. Wouldn’t you love to play the game again with your own children — to share the stories of your childhood memories of the game with them, creating new memories too?
I’ll be honest and acknowledge that your boys may not appreciate the game or your stories right now — what kid does? *wink* But, like you, they will remember years later.
And whether or not the physical game is an actual heirloom from your childhood or not, this new-to-you vintage board game is destined to become one of your family’s heirlooms.
In fact, I suggest you get two copies of the game. That way each one of your children can keep a game along with their memories and share them both with their own children in the future… A future where the memory of Grandpa as well as Grandpa’s memories live on and on and on.
PS At the risk of being entirely too girlie for covering a vintage sports game, this whole thing brings a tear to my eye. I can only hope that our children’s treasured memories include family game time.
There’s lots to love about this vintage pay phone ceramic bank I spotted at a local thrift store.
To add money to the piggy bank, you drop the coins in the slot at the top — just like you did with those pay phones. This particular bank was missing the presumably rubber stopper sealing the hole in the bottom for coin retrieval, signaling that someone had spent their pennies earned.
This vintage ceramic bank is a real conversation piece. First, in terms of true style of old telephones. There’s a rotary dial to really confuse kids — other people’s kids; ours have been educated in the ways of earlier technology. Heck, with the popularity of cell phones some kids don’t even know what a “pay phone” is.
But what I love most about it is the coin return detail and the memories it brrrr-rings. Had that been how one actually retrieved their coins from the bank, I probably would have bought it because I have fond memories of checking the coin returns of public pay phones.
My sister and I would race to see who could check the coin return first — or, if there was a bank of pay phones, who could get the most money. My sister was far more determined (greedy?) than I, and she often pocketed the most winnings.
She did win the all-time best story about pay phones too. One time, she stuck her greedy fingers into a coin return and came out with some partially eaten and/or melted candy. (We dared not dwell on all the possibilities too long.)
That moment in “Eeeiiww” nostalgia now makes me wish I had bought this vintage bank. I could have set it out in my home; it’s mere existence a prompt to tell that story over and over again… Or maybe even mailed it to her, eagerly awaiting her phone call to discuss pay phones and other gross childhood memories.
If this bank is still at the thrift shop on my next visit, I think I’ll have to get it.
PS I wasn’t sure which room in the house to categorize this under… As a kid, my bank was always in my bedroom — but then, when you’re a kid everything goes in your bedroom. I suppose this piggy bank probably more suited mom, who likely kept it in the kitchen or wherever the telephone was. Maybe she even used it to threaten charging her teenage daughters for each phone call they had. Hey, moms had to get that “rainy day” money from somewhere.
Thinking of taking a family vacation by car this year so you can go antiquing along the way? Getting there is half the fun — or at least half the story you and the kids remember (complain about?) years later. Below are 10 tips for creating a great family road trip — with a heavy emphasis on journaling or scrapbooking to preserve your memories.
A quick word about my emphasis on actively collecting souvenirs and journaling (or blogging) during the trip: It’s an excellent way to provide each member of the family with some much-needed “down time” and individual attention. It slows things down, allows events to be savored more “in the moment, “which makes for much better memory building and sharing later.
Plan Ahead:
1. If you have a destination in mind, a place where you’ll be spending some time, call ahead. Not only for a guaranteed hotel or motel reservation, but for antiquing too. Search online and through your saved booklets, fliers, and antiquing publications for antique shops and malls in the area you’ll be visiting. Call to snailmail to verify hours and dates open (some smaller shops may be closed for their own vacation time) and ask them for a list of other shops in the area. (This can be done with any attraction or shopping plans.)
2. Road trip music. Yes, each kid over the age of four will have his and her own individual Mp3 player or other gadget, but I’m talking about shared music for sing-a-longs. Make a “family mixed tape” with each member of the family suggesting a handful of songs to be burned or downloaded to the compilation audio. (I heartily recommend including some Three Dog Night and folk music!)
3. Along with your usual antiquing gear, make sure you have all chargers, cords, memory cards, etc. for your cell phones, digital cameras, laptops, audio players, etc. packed.
4. But don’t only count on your gadgets. You’ll hit places without cell phone service to upload photos, no WiFi spots for travel blogging from the road, etc. So bring along pads of paper or — even better — a few of those blank journals for the family to write diary entries in. Not only is this a way to record in the moment, but you’ll have paper pages for scrapbooking — and nothing beats the feeling of sitting down together and turning the pages to share the memories. Plus you’ll have another family project for when you return home.
5. You’ll want to take photos — lots of photos. Having a few of those disposable film cameras is also nice. Not only as a backup for technology issues, but waiting for the film to be developed and gathering to share the photos is fun too. Plus, younger children you don’t wish to entrust with the care of expensive gadgets can still carry around a camera to take pictures with.
6. Don’t only rely only on GPS; bring actual maps. You can more readily see your options, your spouse or navigator in the shotgun seat can more easily assist you, and paper never hits zones without service bars *wink* Plus, you can mark maps with your own notes and include those pages or panels in your scrapbook. (Including an angrily circled “got lost here!” lol) And isn’t the whole point of vacation to take those roads not traveled?
But Keep It Flexible:
7. Include plenty of time for spontaneous stops. When kids have had enough of each other and the close quarters, take a pit stop to stretch your legs, get some fresh air, or enjoy a roadside treat. Keep whiny and sullen kids entertained by looking ahead on the map to help make decisions or rock picking (especially if you have a rock polisher!).
Even if this means you end up with a destination much closer to home, you’ll all have more fun if your pace and agenda is more relaxed.
8. Speaking of spontaneous souvenir hunts… Challenge or inspire the whole family to collect souvenirs for your travel scrapbook. Along with taking photos, have family members snap-up promotional pieces like brochures and place mats from the places you visited. (Multiple copies are a good idea.)
Other souvenir possibilities can be handmade, such as doodling the huge roadside Paul Bunyan statue, sketching every breakfast, or handwriting a diary page of the silliest things said that day.
9. Take as many of the smaller roads as you can, go through as many smaller cities as you can. Not only is the scenery more beautiful, the speed limits lower (resulting in better gas millage and increased safety), but here’s where you’ll find all the fun — and old — roadside attractions. Don’t fear that this will limit your antique shopping; many of the smaller towns do have antique shops. Heck, you’ll even be able to find local flea markets, farmers markets and even rummage sales this way!
As history-loving’ geeks, we find winding your way through smaller towns also means quaint and interesting local historical societies often many of these are free to visit or have a very small suggested donation. (Note: Purchasing postcards from historical society museums and small attractions helps support them — and your family’s journal of your trip!)
10. Always bring swimsuits. Even if you don’t plan on swimming, it never fails that there will be swimming or some water attraction along the way. Don’t dampen the fun; make sure everyone brings a swimsuit along. And mom, remember those towels!
Image Credits:
Scan from a page in one of my vintage scrapbooks (crayon and ephemera glued in).
Map image via Antiquips.
Photo of travel ephemera, also courtesy of Antiquips.
Another scan of hand-drawn colored page from a vintage scrapbook I’ve collected.
PS I was going to write about this all in spring, when travel is more likely on the horizon, but then I read this travel tip discussion (and contest) at TwitterMoms.
I don’t collect bookmarks — so why am I presenting at The First Bookmark Collectors Virtual Convention? Because founder-slash-host Alan Irwin asked me to, even though he knows I don’t collect bookmarks; I guess he just knows I appreciate “everything,” and therefore am quite capable of collecting anything.
Truth is, I once had an unintentional bookmark collection. As a young adult with a voracious reading habit and some money in my pocket, I searched for the perfect bookmark — the perfect bookmark being the perfect blend of form and function.
I wanted my bookmark to be a signature piece, beautiful enough to convey its importance in my life. Not only to display to others my value of books and reading, but to be substantive enough so that I would not lose it. (Unlike the problem of traveling pens, taping a big plastic spoon to a bookmark isn’t a solution — it risks damaging books, as well as undermines the bookmark’s lofty literary position.)
And this perfect bookmark had to hold my place in the book too, including when stuffed into the basket on my bicycle and transported over hill and dale to a reading spot under a tree — and then back home again.
All that’s an awful lot to ask of a bookmark; but I was confident.
I tried new bookmarks and antique bookmarks; corner bookmarks made of metal; plastic bookmarks which were like glorified paper clips in principle if not (always) appearance; bookmarks of string, with weighted bits and bobs at the ends (some with multiple strings, allowing you to mark several places in the book); elastic bookmarks, wooden bookmarks…
So many bookmarks, those years of reading were seriously affected by the preoccupation of all those bookmark trials.
In the end, I settled for the standard strips of fabric and paper (laminated, coated or not) — including, as most readers will confess — using whatever scrap of paper or thin flat thing is laying around. (Such found things in old books are a continuing delight for this book collector; however, I tend to place these saved functional bookmarks into other categories of my collection, such as photographs, ephemera, etc.)
I didn’t save many of the bookmarks I purchased in pursuit of The Perfect Bookmark; what didn’t succumb to natural losses, was given away in the disdain of failure. As recently as a year ago, I found a few of the plastic paper clip types in the junk drawer and divvied them up between the kids. But I did save this antique bookmark because its aged beauty outshines its dull performance.
I’m guessing this copper corner bookmark with a regal “cameo” of a woman is from the early 1900’s. The rounded corner limits functionality on square-tipped page corners, among other things, but she sure is pretty!
Since she’s the only one I’ve saved, I guess you could say she won, that she is The Perfect Bookmark. Or that beauty (form) beat-out the beast (function). But I think it’s more accurate to acknowledge that I outgrew childish notions of The Perfect Bookmark, and that she remains mine because she was collectible. (I do so love to collect rescue imperfect old things.)
I now wish I had saved all those bookmarks. (Even those purchased new would be retro by now!) Not because of the convention (though I admit, that would be cool as far as talking with other collectors — by the way, did you register yet?), but because all those rejected bookmarks would have been a museum, documentation of my attempts to discover The Perfect Bookmark.
I suspect that, now that I’m no longer so obsessed with finding Thee bookmark, I would not only enjoy those bookmarks for their beauty, but be quite entertained by the stories of them — how I got them, how they fared in their trials… I bet I’d even remember what book each bookmark had been placed in service of; I’m rather visual like that, seeing something and remembering everything associated with it.
As it is now, I am amused recalling the purpose-driven antics of my perfection-seeking former self. But the collector in me thinks it sure would be nice to have the tangible evidence of such an obsession.
Image Credits:
Vintage red and green bookmarks, via Lauren Roberts and her article Bakelite In Books.
All photos of the antique copper embossed corner bookmark are copyright Deanna Dahlsad.
My mom found this old pickle cookie cutter and gave it to me for Christmas this year — though first, in the confusion of gift opening, my middle child got it, opened it, and was very confused. (I guess she was the pickle in the middle? lol)
My mom found the cookie cutter out antiquing and knew it would be the perfect gift for me. Not only I am crazy about cookie cutters (and old stuff in general), but it’s a pickle! Pickles are a pretty big thing in our family…
I suppose it starts with the German tradition of hiding a glass pickle ornament on the Christmas tree. It’s such a big deal, that when a young person moves out to live on their own (or at least not with their parents), they are given a glass pickle ornament to hang on their own tree, so that they may continue the tradition.
But then there was the year that my uncle made my sister open like half a dozen wrapped boxes (each empty but wrapped box nested inside the other, like those Russian dolls) just to get to the smallest, final box, open it and find a pickle with a bite taken out of it. Boy, was my six year old sister ticked! And boy did my uncle and I laugh! Ah, good times *sigh*
And then there’s the expression on every one of my kids’ faces the first time they had a pickle — especially when they had insisted they’d like it and struggled not to prove mom was right about the warnings *wink*
Anyway, the pickle is just good fun. So what’s not to love about an antique pickle cookie cutter?
I suspect this old tin cookie cutter to be German in origin — not just because it’s a pickle, but because the Germans have a long history of making cookie cutters. (So maybe my obsession with collecting cookie cutters is a genetic thing?) And I’m guessing it’s at least 100 years old.
Anyway, I love that this antique tin cookie cutter of a pickle has the fluted edge, which gives the pickle cookies authentic spines.
Now, the question is, when I make pickle cookies, should I salt the tops a bit? I’ve at least got to take a bite out of one, and wrap it up in all those boxes for my sister’s next birthday *wink*
My family moved to Las Cruces, New Mexico from Tulsa, Oklahoma in the mid-1960s. It was a shock on many levels.
We now lived on a street ending at the desert — sand & rocks, not grass & trees!
Had to drink huge glasses of iced tea after first eating surprisingly hot Mexican food!
Also, some people thought us Okies spoke with an accent! 8-D
However, that move turned out to be very good in many respects. New Mexico offered beautiful vistas, friendly people, & delightful architecture. AND, I discovered what would become my lifetime collection: vintage Fiesta dishes.
One day, a new school friend introduced me to a charming antique mall. Since the holidays were close, I started looking for potential Christmas gifts. Nothing really grabbed my attention until I saw some colorful dishes. They came in a wide range of hues & had concentric circles on most surfaces.
I was particularly drawn to a bright blue & orange salt & pepper set. Well, I figured they weren’t an actual set because of the different colors. But the rounded shapes looked exactly alike. I was looking over the dealer’s packed-with-dishes table more than a few minutes before someone asked if I needed help.
“Yes I do, thanks,” I told the older woman. “Can you tell me anything about this salt & pepper pair?”
“Of course,” she replied right away, “that’s Fiesta.”
I must have looked confused at that answer, so she pointed to more colorful dishes on another table. “Like those plates,” she said.
Wandering over to look at those dishes, I asked another question, “What exactly are ‘fiesta’ dishes? Are they used for Mexican holidays or something?”
“Oh no!” she laughed. “Come here & let me show you,” taking me by the hand to a third table. She picked up a plate that looked like it was the same rich blue as one of the dishes I’d looked at earlier. Then she turned it over to show the script mark underneath.
“Ah, now I get it,” I said. “Fiesta is the name of those dishes.” That helpful dealer, whose name I’ve completely forgotten now, pointed out other Fiesta she was selling. But I still liked the colors & shape of the salt & pepper set, so that’s what I bought, intending it as a gift for my mother.
It was after we moved to New Mexico that Mother’s preference for bright colors really became apparent. Maybe it was the rich Southwest design influence? All I know for sure is that she truly liked the cobalt & red (Fiesta for ‘orange’), S&P I gave her. And she later painted all the kitchen cabinets bright orange.
I inherited that salt & pepper after my mother died. I also have a much older, deep orange-red S&P set — pottery adorably shaped like tomatoes — that she originally got from her mother.
Years later, when I finally had my own place, I seriously started collecting Fiesta. (And I mean seriously!) Now, when I move & have to pack up all those boxes of dishes, my father always jokes that I probably have enough Fiesta to serve dinner for 60 people. “No,” I reply, “I’m sure I only have service for 35!”
And it all started with that salt & pepper….
(Speaking of which, I recently moved & have not yet unpacked my boxes of Fiesta. And for some reason, I don’t have any photos of that original S&P, sorry! All photos used here are mine.)
While trolling eBay, I found this vintage Barbie ensemble and let out a, “Hey! I had that!”
Hubby probably would have ignored me (I exclaim a lot of things while sitting at the computer, and if he paid attention to every one, he’d never get to enjoy his parts of the interwebs), but then I followed it up with a, “Whoa, $474.99…” to which he responded, “Still have it?”
Every collector has a price, and if I did have this particular vintage doll outfit for Babs, I might be tempted…
But my outfit was played with — well loved — first by my aunt, then by me.
I love-love–loved this outfit. The metallic gold threads gleamed, making Barbie appear to wiggle in that wiggle dress, even when she wasn’t even moving. The coat had those elegant cuffs of fur set against that gold and then -BAM!- you opened up that coat, and there was that unexpected (or at least thrilling) gleaming aqua lining. And, believe it or not, that aqua corduroy handbag was paired with nearly as many other outfits as the pearl necklace and basic black shoes.
I played with them all, but tenderly. Even still, I’m sure they wouldn’t approach the conditions of this one. And I don’t recall the fur and pearl headband.
However, I don’t think a few hundred dollars would be worth parting with the set if I still had it — no matter the condition. A few grand? Mmmaybe. It’s hard to put a price on memories. Harder still to put a price on the hypothetical ownership retained — because right now, all I want to do it have it back and dress-up Barbie.
For collectors who are interested, the seller of this vintage Barbie ensemble (modwoman of Retro-stop) offers information on Evening Splendor, one of the few original outfits manufactured in 1959:
Although the outfit itself remained in production through 1964, only the outfits marked TM were manufactured the first year. These outfits came with the #1 shoes with the hole in the bottom to accommodate the stand!
The TM version appears to be “more gold” than the more common R version. The gold glistens and sparkles and provides a stunning contrast to the aqua satin lining!
PS I obviously can’t recall if my outfit had the original, old, TM tag; but since Babs #1 was among the items given to my by my aunt, I’m pretty certain it was.
When I was a kid, our big family gatherings had the traditional kids’ table. At first it was fun to hang out with your cousins, having those chocolate-milk-bubble-blowing-contests without garnering parental stink-eye; but eventually you wanted to age-out of that table and join the grown-ups because you weren’t a kid anymore.
And then one day you did!
We all must have collectively aged-out of the concept of kids’ tables because I’ve noticed lately that the kids’ table has gone the way of the dinosaurs.
Now if there’s a rickety little card table it has a new fancy holiday tablecloth on it instead of last year’s tablecloth and you could find anyone sitting there — just as you’ll find plenty of kids at the regular dinning room table.
And I hate it.
Like every child before me, I couldn’t wait to be deemed an adult and join the grown-ups and now view this as a rite of passage that those younger ought to earn too.
But more than that, as an adult, I long for adult conversation unfettered by the little ears. It’s not that I want or need to swear like a sailor all through dinner, but some topics are not suitable for children.
And even those that are suitable, are often the sort that require you to stop every five words to explain who people are, define words, and provide context. I do that all day, every day; and some times I’d just like to have a meal in which I can talk grown-up stuff with people I don’t often see — and not be bogged down with a learning situation for children, complete with adult-to-child thesaurus, a world globe, & a flip-chart.
Possibly worse is having the kids blurt information. You know, like ruin the story you are cleverly crafting by giving away the punchline. Or how about when you are waxing nostalgic, making an insider joke with your sister about that bad thing you both did that one Thanksgiving — and your kid catches on, blurting, “You and Aunt Jackie stole a street sign?!”
*sigh*
I’d like those adults only conversations — after all, I sat at the kids’ table for years, I’ve earned them!
Does that make me a bad person? I don’t think so… My parents did it. My grandparents did it. And the only bad thing I have to show for it is a sack full of memories.
So what the heck happened?
People started treating their children like adults — small-bodied adults, but adults nevertheless.
People thought that the kids’ table was mean; “Kids shouldn’t be ostracized for their age,” they whine. The kids’ table is seen as an archaic memento of the days when children should be seen and not heard. But when I look back, it’s the secrets shared and conspiratorial conversations with cousins at the kids table that I remember most vividly.
I remember the pride my male cousins had at making we girls giggle and gross-out over their status as pull-my-finger kings — with no gassy uncles to over-power them. I remember the turns my female cousins and I took, mocking the boys for their uncouth ways. I remember laughing so hard, milk squirted out of our noses. And I remember the gossip we shared, the secrets we confessed — things we never would have dared to say around the grown-ups. (Those dumb old grown-ups would have needed a hip-lingo-to-uncool-adult translator, a map of the school, and flip charts — and even then, they wouldn’t have been cool enough to get it.)
Sitting at the kids’ table was our private time.
So kids now can sit where they want; never mind that Great Grandpa has to sit at the rickety card table and 7 foot tall Uncle Kevin has to fold himself in half to get on that folding chair. But we’ve lost more than those physical comforts.
The kids have lost kid time and we’ve lost grown-up time.
So bring back the kids’ table, I beg of you. I miss it, and our kids are missing out on it.
Meanwhile, I have my memories… Which I am reminded of every holiday and every time I flip through old magazines, vintage photos, etc., and see images of the kids’ table.
Christmas time always brings up toys. Now that I’m a parent, I try to remind myself that finding the perfect toy ought not to be the pressure point I make it out to be…
Some of my favorite and most memorable toys were not ones I asked for. Even if my grandma would sit us down with the Sears Christmas Wish Book and have us play “pick,” by going through it page by page and picking one item we wanted from each page, she didn’t really shop off our list of picks. Instead my cousin Lisa, my sister, and myself each got the same thing — and for many years, this was the latest big ticket item in Barbie’s world. (It wasn’t until I was 16 or so that grandma deviated from this plan, or gave me any one of my picks — a manicure kit signaled the end of childhood.)
So each Christmas Eve, gathered with extended family, we three girls would open our gifts at the same time, simultaneously revealing the Barbie airplane, house, camper, etc. It made for fun with all three of us playing together — after our dads did the some-assembly-required parts. (My poor dad had to put together two of the darn things, while my Uncle Mike only had to do one before he returned to his holiday beer; the year we got Townhouses, the assembly was so intense, that I do believe all boxes remained sealed, were carried home to sit beneath the Christmas tree, and then went directly to reside in attics & basements.)
My favorite bit of Barbie property had to be the Barbie Country Camper.
Not only were the campers most mobile and self-contained, but they had cool features. Features we put to use whenever the neighbor’s cat had a litter of kittens. And as a non-spayed, part-time outdoor cat, she had a litter every spring, giving us plenty of early summers to put tiny kittens into the campers and play with them rather than Babs and friends.
Once those kittens could eat crunchy kitten food, we’d filled the tiny camper sink with kitten chow, stick a lucky kitten or two in the camper, close the door, and extend the table off the back end, achieving a perfect view of kittens chowing down on the chow in the sink.
We watched them eat until they did as kittens do, and fell asleep, nose first in the chow-filled sink. Such sudden and sound sleep made us giggle — and it assured us that we could then drive the kitten-filled camper up and down the block.
When the kitties woke up and had the kitten zoomies, as kittens are want to do, we’d stop the camper and open the kit-tent (yes, we know it’s technically called a pup tent, but we couldn’t find any puppies small enough…) and watch the kittens crawl out of the orange plastic and down the vinyl ramp.
Sometimes momma cat followed the camper full of kittens; sometimes she just watched us return for another one or two of her babies, whereupon we’d start the process all over again.
Whenever I see a small kitten, I still have the urge… But I am without a retro 70’s Country Camper.
Santa, if you’re reading this, if it’s too much to ask… I’d love an old Barbie Country Camper — and a pair of kittens!
Image Credits: 1971 Sears Wish Book via Wishbook at Flickr; Barbie Country Camper photos via eBay seller goldenzelda.
I don’t recall how old I was when I received this tiger, whose head at least is stuffed with sawdust. Tigger, as I named him, seems to simply just have always been… When not waiting for me in my bed, he often could be found riding on my shoulder, wrapped about my neck. We’ve had a long life together, the two of us. Every one of his scars tells a story, a story of a lesson I learned.
Tigger is the reason I cared to learn how to sew. I loved him so much, I had to repair him myself and there are the clumsy stitches of childhood sewing down his back — in multiple colors of thread, each indicative of the multiple repairs — to prove it.
If it weren’t for Tigger, who knows if I’d be able to replace a button?
But the most embarrassing story involves the mark on his left or backside.
This dark spot marks a dirty secret… When I was about eight years old, I thought I was super smart, sneaking a big grape gumball into bed with me. Once tucked in, I popped it into my mouth, assured that I’d chew for awhile and properly rid myself of it before falling asleep. I mean what sort of idiot would fall asleep chewing gum and risk choking on it, as my parents feared?
…Morning came, the gum was forgotten about until I grabbed Tigger to bring him down with me for breakfast. When I picked him up to place him on my shoulder, there it was – a giant gob of chewed purple goo.
Poor Tigger!
And poor me if I were to be busted!
Amazingly, the gum had only attached itself to the plush tiger, not my nightgown or my bedding, so I rushed to save Tigger (and my own hide). Not having access to any how-to guides, or knowledge or possibly using ice to help me, I began to scrape the gum off. It mushed, but it didn’t really move. My mind flashed to a gum at school memory, when Liz had to have the teacher cut the signs of Scott’s affection out of her hair — I grabbed the round-tipped scissors from the desk I shared with my big-mouthed baby sister and managed to hack the purple blob off before she discovered — and outed — me.
Tigger still has a purplish bruise. But no one else would notice. Like my bruised ego, he carried it around as a reminder that not all parent’s rules are stupid.
This antique photo of a Christmas tree surrounded by little boys who seem less than thrilled suits me because Christmas trees have never been my favorite things. Primarily because it was our family custom for my father to get the itch to go Christmas tree shopping on the coldest, nastiest day of the year — and my mother, ever-interested in presenting a united parental front, agreed.
So there, in the frozen Christmas tree lot, wind freeze-drying our eyeballs, or feet and hands so cold we nearly prayed they’d get frostbite so they’d actually go numb, my sister and I stood, agreeing with any tree selected to hurry this thing up.
Only it never did.
My parents took their time looking over every tree in the lot. They called it “being selective.” But my sister and I begged to differ (and to go home) as our family’s other Christmas tree tradition was to bring home a tree with severe scoliosis — and a bad side dad would have to hide in the living room corner.
Once our tree was selected it was time to get it home, into the house, and set up. Parental bickering was involved, of course, as mom questioned dad’s desire to break all her holiday knick knacks and he in return wondered why she didn’t understand his simple directions of how to hold the tree while he sawed off branches and fit the trunk into the tree stand.
Then real fun was supposed to begin. But let me tell you, dripping noses and frozen fingers prohibit you from enjoying decorating the tree.
It’s no wonder I wished Christmas trees arrived by Santa’s sleigh too.
When I hit my 20’s, I actually had a beautiful tree selecting experience. My then-boyfriend took me out on the family property — complete with horse in tow — to cut down our own very own little Christmas tree for our apartment.
I giggled with joy over such a charming and comparatively discomfort-free holiday tree selection. On the way back to the car, holding hands with my boyfriend who led the horse, tree trailing behind him, a gentle snow fell to complete the Normal Rockwell imagery and my insides warmed with the romance of it all.
Too bad that relationship ended with more pain and tears than the cumulative hours spent Christmas tree shopping with my folks did.
Since then, I’ve had children. And a divorce. Then a new marriage — with a new daughter. All situations which affect Christmas trees and my affection for them.
Marriages bring debates over conflicting traditions, such as Real Trees Vs. Artificial Ones, just where the tree should be placed, when and how to trim the tree — including whether or not tinsel can be used.
Children bring ornaments. By the truckload. Each child has multiple Baby’s First Year ornaments, packed in layers of tissues with of all the ornaments they’ve made through the years.
My husband, ever the packrat, has all his old childhood ornaments, set aside and saved for him all these years by his loving mother.
Which means every year my Christmas tree looks more like the cliched family art gallery refrigerator than the holiday tree of my dreams.
Among the complications of a blended family like ours at holiday time, are the sheer number of ornaments. Since we both were single parents for a number of years, we each had more than enough ornaments for one tree — and now they’re combined. The only preferential treatment my fancy themed ornaments get is to remain safely tucked into their boxes, saved for that future One Day.
You know, that one day when my children are older and I give them the boxes of their ornaments I livingly saved for them… Then I can have a fancy designer styled tree.
Only thing is, I’ll probably miss my cluttered Christmas tree, that literal mess of memories, and the stories each ornament had.
No, Christmas trees have never been my favorite things; but they do contain memories and they are decorated in stories.
Vintage Christmas photos via The Antique Christmas Lights Museum.
A story from my mom, of No Egrets Antiques:
Christmas at our house was always wonderful! It was not that we got everything we wanted – kids always have expectations way beyond reality. But everything seemed bright and shiny. My mom had Christmas music on the radio (the one with the little, round red light in front), and later on the “new hi-fi system.” And she sang or hummed from Thanksgiving to New Years.
For as long as I can remember, her favorite was “Silver Bells.” My brother’s first year in the Army was when Elvis was really at his peak. His song “I’ll be Home for Christmas” was played over and over again. My brother had been told he would not be able to get leave and had told my mom several times. But she never, ever gave up believing. Her boy, her first born, would make it home. Sometimes we would tease her but she just took it in stride. “Just wait and see,” she’d say. But when it was the day before Christmas Eve, and still no sign of Mike, she began to lose a bit of her faith.
We were at a corner bar/restaurant, having a fish fry. My sister was standing outside, watching the snow come down. All of a sudden she tore back into the restaurant and said, “Mom, a soldier just got out of a car!” She told her to calm down, but she got up from the table and went to see for herself. So we all went to the front door. As long as I live, I’ll never forget how my brother picked her up in his arms and swung her around! There were beers and tears all around for in a small community, everyone knew everyone. His leave was short and it was so hard to see him go again, but her wish came true and we all rejoiced!
I think it was then that I learned that the best gifts do not necessarily come in colorful wrapping paper, nor need to be expensive. This gift, as they say in commercials now, was priceless! And one for my memory book!
Photo credits: Silver Bells image, via Silver Bells bongocast; soldier home for holidays via Dr. X’s Free Associations.
Unpacking delicate vintage glass ornaments, untangling glowing orbs of flickering light, placing winter village scenes just so, divided camps of garland vs tinsel, and don’t forget the tradition of tree topper placement. Some believe less is more (those weird freaks!), and others (like me!) believe holiday is the time of year to go all out. But no matter what our design style, we all deck those halls.
We decorate our homes in the right fashion & in the established order as dictated to us by tradition.
And by “tradition” I mean the stuff that mothers and wives say.
We women get away with all of this for many reasons. After all, it’s usually the women who rule the roost, so it’s we who decorate the roost. We choose between real & artificial trees. We direct the placement of the tree – based on the ability of it to be best seen by those inside & outside of the home, with a dose of practicality to household traffic pattern. We tend to be the ones with the largest collection of ornaments, ceramic villages, and other family historical objects & know the importance & lore of each object as well.
Women tend to be the keepers of family history. The story keepers. We remember whose ornament is whose, the when & why, and we need to balance the old memories of our ancestors with the newer stories of our own families. Not only do we remember the stories, but we also, and this is perhaps the most important part of it all, we share those stories.
And in order to share those stories, we know that there must be proper placement. For how else can we bring up the funny stories of ice skating gone bad, if the winter pond scene isn’t displayed? How can we discuss the history of Uncle Marvin’s elf collection, if the elves are not displayed properly? Without seeing great grandma’s tree skirt, no one can mention how lovely it is, and then we might forget to tell the story of her first Christmas in America.
The physical placement of objects & ornaments is directly tied to our oral traditions.
So it seems only natural that at the holidays, a time of family & tradition, that women give all the dictation on the decoration. This goes here, that goes there, use the angel – not the star, just a little more to the left please. More lights, less lights, all white lights.
If you don’t want the oral tradition to include the tale of the year there was no presentation of Marvin’s elves (a story to be repeated each & every year), you’ll just carry & tote, move & remove, then, yes, then get out of the way & let her do her holiday thing.
Now please bring down those other 8 boxes marked ‘Holiday’ from the attic, honey – we must begin to set up the Winter Wonderland on the console table behind the couch (which will now have to be moved to better appreciate the view of the tree). Everything must be just so.
And some folks already began in October, so we are late.
Images via Snapdragon Antiques.
