Vintage Rescue Squad

Feeding the Booth Beast

Too bad "dead stock" doesn't mean the same thing as "deadstock".
Or I'd be the proud owner of this sign.

Two weekends ago, I drove nearly 3 hours to a local-ish antique/flea market expo. I'd been twice before, so wasn't going in blind. It's not my favorite show, but I had no other plans.

That, and I've got to feed the booth beast—and quench my unslakable thirst for more junk.

However, I spent more time DRIVING there than I spent SHOPPING there. Which got me to thinking: something's been bothering me lately. I recalled a conversation I had with Gina (Vintage Junk in My Trunk) and the ever-hilarious Mr. VJIMT. Over drinks in Bouckville, she asked me about some upcoming shows, pondering whether some were "worth it."

This led to a much longer and drink-fueled conversation: are we so jaded that a show with less than 100+ vendors isn't quite worth our time? Are we impervious to the charms of a smaller venue? What if the larger venue has loads of glass, estate jewelry, big brown furniture—does that diminish desirability?

What I need is a mathematical equation to determine the value of a show. Distance + overnight costs ÷ number of vendors ... factor in priciness of items, caliber of merch ... you can see how it gets confusing.

 

The booth that cannot be ignored, October 2012.

Many of us want to branch out, but what shows are worth it? We discussed the value of flying to some of the more-intriguing shows (Farm Chicks? Junk Bonanza? Plucky Maidens (run by BFF Pam!)?, but flying ups the ante a lot. Can we really buy enough (and make enough on what we buy) to justify the trip?

For me, Warrenton/Round Top and Madison-Bouckville are still worth it, particularly because so many of my vendor peeps are in attendance. Those are vacations for me—not just buying trips! But how do you determine which new shows to add? Do you have a buying radius that means all shows are mandatory to attend (for me, it's 3 hours)? Or can you ever be satisfied with just yard sales and estate sales and the local venues? 

Closing Time: Quitting Your Antique Mall Booth

(Behold a guest post from my sister, Michelle. Enjoy!)

 

Ah we're drinking and we're dancing
and the band is really happening
and the Johnny Walker wisdom running high

In honor of the publication of I’m Your Man, the new biography about Leonard Cohen, hubby and I have decided to close our booth downstairs at the antique mall where we’ve been for the last three years. OK, that’s not the real reason, although it was an abrupt decision, in fact, a reversal. Just two months ago we were poised to overtake Snissy’s larger space upstairs, in anticipation of her move to a venue closer to home. When that fizzled we retrenched, but not without running the numbers.

After using the booth as a tax write-off for the first couple of years, this year it was time to treat it as a hobby in the eyes of the IRS. An honest look at net “profit” after rent, COGS [cost of goods sold], and buying trip expenses—coupled with a new car payment when my beloved MINI Cooper died—made the decision all too obvious: the booth was a losing proposition. Time to cut bait.

When people ask me what I sell, I jokingly respond, “Oddities that nobody wants to buy.” It’s a huge rush when I encounter a customer who “gets” me—like the retired CIA gentleman who bought a Space Cadet ring on Sunday when I was marking everything down. He divulged that Frankie Thomas, the actor who played “Tom Corbett—Space Cadet” in the 1950’s TV series, was buried, per request, in his Space Cadet uniform when he died at age 85. I will miss these encounters.

 

Although I will sorely miss the shop, booth closure doesn’t even register on the Holmes and Rahe stress scale of life events. And while I did just buy a killer vintage mechanic’s roller creeper that will be difficult to sell online, for months now I’ve been buying mostly found objects and twee smalls that can be repurposed into jewelry or altered art. Like creepy baby dolls. These may not sell any better than the jai alai xistera or disintegrating racehorse blinkers gathering dust at the shop, but I’m gravitating more toward artistic satisfaction these days. And we’re doing pretty well on etsy, where listing costs are a pittance and well worth the tedium. Plus, we’ll continue to do 2-3 local vintage fairs next year, and I’m already on the lookout for a cheaper booth space.

Yes, this may just be Johnny Walker wisdom. Like Snissy, I have a big grrrl job that pays the bills, and junking is my bliss. Selling is a license to buy more than a sane person should. But right now that outlay needs to be checked. After many lifetimes as a poet, a Jew, a singer/songwriter, a Zen Buddhist monk and a return-to-touring artist, at 78 Leonard Cohen is still reinventing himself. This adjustment seems wildly modest in comparison.

My Junking Uniform

I'm a big fan of dressing simply. It might not be simple to you, but it eliminates decisions for me (and makes shopping easier). 4 out of 5 days at my big-grrrl job, I'm wearing jeans and a black t-shirt/sweater. When shopping, I steer clear of pastels, bright colors, etc. and beeline for blacks, grays, browns.

When it comes to my junking uniform, I doubt you'll be surprised:

 

Jeans (of course), and my wardrobe of junk-theme t-shirts! Here's a whole solid week of my stash: Hoarder, Love Me Love My Junk, Vintage Geek, JUNK, Junkmaster, Vintage Couture, and Junk Posse.

 

In case you haven't grokked yet, I'm proud of my junky vintage hoarding.

 

There are other junkers who wear other uniforms (the flowing beiges of Magnolia Pearl, true vintage clothing, etc.). If we have a uniform of sorts, we have our motives.

 

Mine announces: Hey, dealer! I'm no tire-kicker, I'm hard-core, and I'm here to buy. As an added bonus, it tends to cut down on the chitchat.

Weirdly, female dealers tend to respond more to the "Hoarders" t-shirt; male dealers like the "JUNK" and "Vintage Geek" ones.

Oddly enough, whenever I'm wearing one of these, I rarely have to ask for a discount—I get offered one.*

*Your results may vary. Please junk responsibly.

Creepy Dolls: They're Baaaaaack!

Check out these bad-boy hitch-hikers! I found the lot in PA during extravaganza weekend—all as a lot. It took a while for me to get on board with buying dolls, but they are proven sellers, so I grab 'em when I can. The head at left had been lobotomized, and I gave her to Grasshopper/Sis. The others are uber-charming mainly because of the mishmash of assembled limbs, which I couldn't resist.

Look closely at Chucky at top right; his eyes are positively demonic. He's a twin of the dude in the forefront with the throbbing forehead vein, but much, MUCH creepier. The one in the middle has a piece of tape with "My Little Tommy" written on it, which is cryptic, yet intriguing. Personally, I'd like it better if it said something like "Mr. Universe 1913" or somesuch.

I brought them into the shop yesterday, and a buyer audibly shrieked when she saw them, questioning my taste. My dear, have you not seen Sharon's fabulous "cracked in the head" nightlights (sadly, her etsy shop of them is on hiatus)? Did you not see Kevin of Hollywood Forever featured in the Winter '12 Flea Market Style magazine?

screenshot from hollywoodforeverkevin.com

I was BLOWN AWAY by the spread on his home, but especially the china cabinet of doll heads. The best part? The only rule for inclusion is that the heads must be found AS IS—dismembered!

Sadly, the longer I live alone, the more I want to decorate like this. Don't be surprised when I cave.

Multiples. How Predictable.

Last weekend, I was up in PA for the last 2012 extravaganza weekend—3 solid days of junking at 3 solid flea markets/shows. For the remainder of the year, if I want an extravaganza, I've got to make my own. It's generally my last big "shop" of the year, time to load up on acorns to ease the winter junking hibernation! And you know me: the best way of doing so is to buy as much as possible.

 

3 printers sets more than made up for a lack of typewriters this trip. The jumbo one at the top right is awesome, but for me, the farm/jungle one is the big score. The stamps are animals!

 

I also, of course, needed 3 globes. I didn't find any black ones (my weakness), but the one at the left is a close second-weakness—love those mid-century legs! Here's a tip if you're looking to make sure they're old enough to be vintage-y: look for USSR and Rhodesia. Many globes aren't dated, so that's my way of gauging how old they are. 

 

The knobs (as a lot) called my name. The jumbo all-white ones just might stay in my bathroom....

 

Colleen caught me in the act of buying this lot of 245 bible cards. I'm such a predictable sucker, huh?

 

Bet you wouldn't have passed by these super-cheap Lotto boxes (chock-full of my favorite round wooden number pieces!).

 

And it didn't take me more than 3.2 seconds to ask the dealer for a "lot price" for the whole box of teeny-tiny tin photographs. I adore these because the people always look so grim.

On a sidenote, recently my sister asked me when on a big buy whether I shop mostly for my booth or the etsy shop. In reality, it's both, but the smalls are a lot easier to find, and a lot easier to sell online to a broader audience. Then again, if I regularly listed, I'm sure I'd sell more. That evil catch-22.

I've had to train myself to think of both the booth and etsy as VRS Worldwide. To offset high rent, I can't become despondent when sales are slow or large pieces don't move. Because etsy fees are so low, it all balances out, right? In theory.