My new town is a destination for people who love antiquing. There are half a dozen shops (maybe more) full of probably a hundred or so different booths that are maintained by dealers, each with their own proclivities and favorites. Some collect particular colors of art glass objects. Some are into farm implements or nautically themed art or quilts. Some are heavy on the dolls, doilies, and dishes. My favorite seller here—W!nk—has an incredible eye for combining various more masculine and mid-century elements and I always see something in his section that I want.
The town I grew up in was also an antiquing mecca. One 3-floor mega-shop covers half a city block. You could get lost in there for hours (and I have routinely lost the people I was shopping with in there).
Now, a lot of what one sees in an antique shop or a flea market is what we would consider junk. Just really awful stuff that should probably be put out of its misery. Some of it is super cool and sparks memories of relatives long gone or our own childhood (also long gone) but it’s not something you’d actually buy and put in your house. The smallest subsection of items in antique shops is the stuff you’d actually purchase and hang on a wall or display on a shelf or even use in daily living. I was recently in an antique shop in Holland, Michigan, and sorely tempted to buy a set of colorful Pyrex mixing bowls, even though I’ve never been a collector, to use in my kitchen. But then I started to wonder if they could go in the dishwasher…
Anyway, even for the most modern, minimalist tastes, there’s an interesting antique out there in one of these rambling, dusty antique shops. Something rare or meaningful or perplexing or deceptively useful. Something that could spark a story…
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