We had a limited amount of time for sales on Saturday, but thought we’d get out for a quick run. Conveniently, our first stop was just down the street. I wasn’t sure if it would be that great, but the mention of multiple sellers getting rid of designer and vintage items sounded promising.
Meghan had remembered hitting a sale here before, but this time there were multiple sellers. They had some great stuff and a huge selection!
They were just starting to bring out some racks of clothes — Meghan nearly screamed when she saw not one, not two, but three vintage Mexican circle skirts come out. She grabbed ’em all up quick and dug through the rest. I scored a very cool winter coat (not that exciting when summer has finally rolled around, but I’ll be happy in a few months) and a windbreaker with crazy patches on it. We contemplated buying these matching green jackets and wearing them around somewhere, but ultimately passed.
The more I looked around the more I was picking up — Israeli boots, a Fiestaware butter dish, an apron made with Hawaiian fabric … I finally had to ask for a box. I had fully fallen into “sure, throw it in the pile” mode. Right after snapping this picture, I thought “hey, that lion is pretty cool” — into the box it went.
Meghan started getting rung up — it was a pretty slow process. While she was waiting, guess who showed up and started digging through the jewelry? Annoying Jewelry Guy! Apparently he started making weird and mildly pervy comments to her after spotting a pair of boots she was holding — “Oh, are those your go-go boots? Are you going to wear those with your go-go skirt?” I missed this whole thing, and I’m glad because I’m so skeeved out even thinking about it — not least because I have hardly ever heard him say anything other than “Got any jewelry?” I got in line to pay and one of the sellers came up saying “whose car is that?” Someone had blocked their driveway — one guess who the bad park-er was. When she asked him to move his car he was so odd about it and at first refused, then skulked away. When I finally had a chance to pay, Meghan started talking to some people she knew who revealed that they don’t call him Jewelry Guy, they call him “Ten-Dollar Guy” because they always see him make a huge pile of stuff at a sale and then say “How about ten dollars?” no matter how much the stuff was originally marked. He also attempted to buy the rings off of one of the seller’s hands. Have I mentioned we don’t like this guy very much? But not even his odd and obnoxious behavior could really dampen our sale high, and we both walked off in desperate need of more cash, but very pleased with our purchases.
Next was a “block sale” with only one sale (I couldn’t really bitch after pretty much doing the same thing at our last sale), and then an address that seemed vaguely familiar — egads! The sale at the creepy doll house is ON! Now, I don’t feel like my photo from last time truly conveyed the oddness of the doll display. Let’s have a close-up, shall we?
Scurrying away from those dolls before they could come alive and suck up our souls, we went around to the back … passing this fountain on the way.
I wasn’t sure what would be waiting for us back there. Dolls? Ax murderers? No … just a lot of junk.
Most of it looked like it had been stored away for a long, long time. Like this whole box of phones.
And hey, remember Toughskins jeans? Well, they had some.
Do you really have to ask? We didn’t buy a thing here.
The next few sales were mostly duds. I was glad I didn’t need anything from this sale …
And I’m pretty sure that nobody needs any of these VHS tapes.
We hit a sale that hadn’t quite opened yet, and as we were walking up to check it out, two women came walking away shaking their heads and muttering as a warning “hamster balls.” Yeah, that looked like about all they had — we didn’t wait around for to find out more.
Later I purchased a cool vintage thermos and a 1976 pamphlet called “How To Make Your Own Moonshine.”
One of our last stops was mostly kid items, but we spotted this sign. I knew that mentioning Antique Roadshow was probably a bad sign.
Sure enough, it was CRAP. Worse, the seller forced us to listen to a verbal tour of all the craps, telling us how collectible her vases were (they looked like the kind that florists give you when you buy a bouquet, and that every thrift store is filled with) and trying to convince Meghan that some boring ashtray would be a great “decorative piece”, even when you don’t smoke. To be fair, I have seen ashtrays that could be considered decorative pieces. This was not one of them. We left muttering “more like Goodwill, here we come.”
And that was that for the day — we couldn’t resist spreading one of those purty skirts out in the trunk for you …