Nancy and I are now in the full-fledged vintage business, with a rented space and sales twice a month. With this new space comes the pressure to change it up, keep it fresh, and add new merchandise. And to be on the hunt all the time.
I hit some sales over the weekend with a big 'ol dollar in my pocket. Un huh, real business like. I was on my way to Wal-Mart when the signs started calling me......stop here, good stuff, cheap. 1st stop was a garage sale with vintage Boy Scout stuff. Sniff, sniff, give me a boogie wipe.....I think I hit Vintage Lotto. With a dollar. I did some batting of my non-mascared eyes, and I no longer have eyebrows so that didn't work out for me like it did back in the day. Oh please, oh please can you hold these for me while I go get some money, I pleaded. Mr. Old Codger said it's been his experience that people who want you to hold stuff never come back for it unless you have something of theirs. How 'bout you give me your wedding ring? For some Boy Scout patches? You've got to be kidding me. We settled on some mints I dug out of my purse. New in package, never been opened. The mints were in mint condition.
I was on my way back from the ATM when I came across an estate sale. The dearly deceased loved dolls. Thousands and thousands of dolls. On shelves, in boxes, in the closet, on the beds, lining the windowsills. I've never been watched so intently by inanimate objects in my life. And. It. Creeped. Me. Out. I ran into a friend and after a few minutes of chatting, told her I had to get out of there. Psssst.......these dolls are listening to everything we say.
I made it back to the Hostage Mint Taker and got my bootie. It's rough out there, and without a wad of small bills, you either have a pile of vintage or a pile of disappointment. When the stars do align? Oh, happy day.