NYC Markets revisited, episode 6. In which I share a new type of collection.

I gave myself a little homework assignment this past week because there are very few things
I dislike more than ambiguity (even more than I dislike homework.) Just how many collections are there in our home?  How many have I acknowledged thus far?
As I was preparing to share the newest additions to my typewriter-ribbon tin collection (yes, that's a thing), I couldn't remember having previously acknowledged it (a passing mention in Chicago-Indiana-Michigan, episode 8).

So, I did what any obsessed collector-traveller-documentarian-(slightly OCD) listmaker would do...

...I made a(nother) list.

In previously blogged order...

owls * white milkglass * paperweights

vintage cameras * vintage razors * cuff links

signed books * Starburst dinnerware * vintage linen tablecloths

Christmas nutcrackers * watches * license plates

snuff bottles * old bottles * Playbills/theater tickets

head vases * vintage tins * porcelain bells

typewriter-ribbon tins * Peanuts collectibles * mortar & pestle sets

roosters * Florentine wood items * teapots & teacups

The length of the list surprised me, but it shouldn't have.  There are indeed many transported treasures that I have not yet shared with you and I also did not include Mari's previously pictured vintage jewelry finds.
Let's just add "jewelry" to the list and call it a (collectors') day.  Eventually, some of our discoveries move on to the hands and hearts of other collectors as we travel and find new pieces for our ever-rotating displays.

One of the best pieces of collecting and organizing advice we ever learned was from professional organizer, Peter Walsh, whose series Clean Sweep was a regular edu-tainment fixture in our home.  This was the program in which beleaguered (not quite yet hoarders) homeowners would drag the entire contents of their overwhelmed homes onto front lawns and driveways so couples could fully appreciate (or not) the magnitude of their stuff.  Peter would eventually guide (sometimes force) his clients to the realization that people are more important than objects and only the most loved items would find their way back into freshly painted and organized rooms.  Peter's final piece of advice before leaving was always, "If you bring in something new, get rid of something old."

Armed with Peter Walsh's advice, Mari and I frequently evaluate our ever-expanding collections (and our deeply-diminishing display space) and a resulting yard sale or eBay purge ensues.  I am approaching that "about to burst" stage of one of my newest collections, but was still able to squeeze in two more typewriter-ribbon tins in the lighted living room display cabinet/entertainment center after returning home from our recent Grand Bazaar NYC visit.  Like most of my collections, I did not start out to collect typewriter-ribbon tins.  I didn't even know such a thing existed or that it was collectible.  I know I grew up with typewriters and there was a manual typewriter in our basement upon which I clickety-clacked habitually through my senior year at Sleepy Hollow High School.

Boy if that baby could talk!

I remember changing the cloth, ink-soaked ribbons on that typewriter a few times back in the day, but I don't recall their packaging.  I certainly don't remember finding them in elaborately embellished tins like the ones I started collecting about fifteen years ago.  I do remember first coming across a few of these tiny font-fabulously emblazoned tins at the monthly West Palm Beach Antiques Festival during a holiday visit to my parents and, since I already collected old tins, curiosity got the better of me and I started a new collection.

The typewriter above is one of the last items I purchased at Picker's Paradise in Niles, Michigan before moving to Texas in August of 1989. I knew it would make a great addition to our future home, representing a formerly-functional yet artfully-crafted connection to a past era as well as a sentimental link to our soon-to-be-deeply-missed Midwest.  What I didn't know was that eventually there would be an appropriately accompanying typewriter-ribbon tin collection to display alongside said sentimental link.

Below is a glamor shot of the entire collection along with some IBM Selectric font elements from the 1970s and 1980s down in front (let's not count that as another collection, please, just a subset).  I am always amazed at the detail on some of these.  Remember, this is basically a box that most office workers or home typists perhaps threw away or hopefully reused to store paperclips or thumbtacks or other tiny office supply storables.  When I came across that vendor at the South Florida Fairgrounds so long ago, I had no idea what I was getting into.  I just liked tins!  And of course I liked typewriters, and fonts, and after purchasing three delicately dinged-up tins for twenty dollars I was well on my way to a new old collection.  I don't come across these very often, but when I do I try to buy the tins with curiously-combined color combinations and cool retro graphics.

I confess, I'm a bit of a font fanatic.  Normally, I like to keep it simple (as with the elegant authority of the Helvetica I've chosen to represent my inner thoughts throughout this blog), but I am a great admirer of the subtle artistic effect a decorative font can have on something as intentionally and essentially functional as a storage container for a typewriter ribbon.  Occasionally, I'm lucky enough to find an intactly wrapped ribbon inside a fleamarketed tin like the round red-cellophaned KeeLox ribbon above.  Should I ever enter that lapse in the space-time continuum that will allow me to put my previously plundered slide rule (Chicago-Indiana-Michigan, episode 2) to practical use I will also be prepared with a freshly inked ribbon for my vintage Royal.

We begin the big thaw in New York next time.

NYC Markets revisited, episode 5. In which we flea and share.

Collectibles have been finding me my entire life.  It is only recently that I have decided to document their appearance and annotate my world-wide search for them.  My first, if you recall (The Owls, episode 1), was my elementary school weather owl and his twin, both of which I still admire daily.  If you have been keeping up and taking notes, there are probably about a dozen collections (publicly acknowledged thus far) gathered (and gathering dust) in our home.

I intend to devote some future blog time exploring more of our collections, but you'll have a bit of a sampling today as I share some of our most recent discoveries from the Grand Bazaar NYC. Mari's market bag was overflowing that day, but as I came to discover a few days ago while gathering items for my photo shoot, I am largely responsible for its contents.

Pictured here is one of Mari's finds on fleamarket Sunday.  We found a fascinating character with lots of stories behind his collectibles, standing behind a table laden with multitudes of obscure objects which some would hardly characterize as collectible, but which by their very eccentricity are now collectibles.

It was like gazing into my not-too-distant-collectibles-trafficking future.

Mari's miniature "spinner" was part of a collection of old game pieces our new merchant friend had himself inherited from another vendor.  Without any other clues attached, we assume the spinner was part of a long-forgotten family board game.  The intricately carved (from bone) pointer hand still spins on its smooth, hand-painted wooden base.  Mari is re-imagining the former game piece as a chic pin or pendant and it is now gathered with soon-to-be decorative projects in her waiting-for-free-time aggregate of goods.

When I first walked into the sunken cafeteria at PS-452, even before we had made our way to our starting corner, I was immediately drawn to a beautifully-displayed collection of vintage and antique teacups.  I don't have an official collection of teacups nor teapots (not really), but there are a "few" of each in our home and yes, there are stories behind a few of them, so I suppose that makes another collection.  Here is my recent purchase from a couple of angles.

You have probably surmised by now that I'm more of a tea drinker than a beer drinker.  Maybe it's the self-professed British in me, but there is something about tea, both its aroma and its social function, that fascinates me.  For centuries, intricately decorative items have been fashioned by artisans to help us not only enjoy the delicate brew, but appreciate its cultural significance, even if it is simply to calm one's ill temper after a stressful day.

I learned a bit about my newest rescued antique from a very knowledgeable vendor who truly values and appreciates her collectibles and did a little more research on my own to discover that my "new" bone china teacup and saucer had been imported from Limoges, France by former 6th Avenue retail giant, Simpson-Crawford Department Store (1885-1914).  Not certain whether it was purchased there by a fashionable New Yorker (perhaps a writer or librarian?) or perhaps even imported for use in the store's tea room, I am ecstatic to have this beautiful bit of history on display in my home.

No need to tell you how nervous I was transporting this treasure in my backpack,

bubblewrap notwithstanding.

Before I forget, here is another tea-themed accoutrement (that's right, I called a cream pitcher an "accoutrement") I rescued.

Not stamped or marked like the carefully documented teacup and saucer from the turn of the 20th century, the barely 4-inch tall pitcher was instead displayed among an eclectic mix of "bargains" in various states of collectability.

You can't exactly call it a "junk table"

if something costs 12 dollars.

Satisfied with its lack of markings as much as
I was with its price tag, this delicately petite beauty is as easily at home displayed among its socialite sisters in a collectibles cabinet as it would be proffering 1% milk for weekend morning coffee at our simple IKEA table in the kitchen.

More on my fascination with all things tea and British another time.

Next time, additions to a relatively new old collection that I'm ready to publicly acknowledge.

NYC Markets revisited, episode 4. In which Lara Spencer is a temptress.

Early on in this blog I mentioned one of our not-so-guilty pleasures, HGTV's Flea Market Flip, as inspiring some of our fleamarket adventures.  It is easy to fall into a lazy but inspiring weekend marathon with host Lara Spencer now on GAC (which we don't view for its intended but rarely broadcast Great American Country music videos).  Mari and I have enjoyed the fleamarketing competition show since it first appeared on HGTV in 2012 largely because we simply love fleamarketing, traveling, and unearthing hidden treasures. Another reason we keep coming back to the series is because of Lara's enthusiasm and obvious passion for fleamarketing and finding hidden beauty in objects formerly known as beloved.

Lara's enthusiasm for up-cycling shabby items into chic home decor almost got the best of me at a recent ranch auction when I began to envision a vintage kitchen stove as a cocktail bar, but, thankfully, my senses took hold after the bidding skyrocketed past my (promised to Mari) $20 limit.  A crazy wave of creativity and inspiration came over me in the moments before that opening bid and I blame Lara Spencer and the bizarrely overwhelming popularity of cocktail bar transformations on Flea Market Flip.

Besides, I know myself.  That formerly functional now dysfunctional auction bargain would have sat in our garage for months (Mari says years) before it wound up on the driveway at one of our collectibles clearance (before-we-call-Hoarders-Anonymous) garage sales.

Darn you and your charms,
Lara Spencer!

At top, I am at the flea formerly known as the Green Flea, now inexplicably and clumsily renamed Grand Bazaar NYC, a favorite setting on Flip.  The day following our unfortunately abbreviated flea Saturday was a beautiful, sunny on-the-verge-of-spring Sunday. Still winter coat cool, the day looked promising as we began our walk up the West Side to our favorite fleamarket.

You may not remember the warm mini quiches I previously relished (NYC Markets, episode 5), but I sure did and was looking forward to their role in a light brunch on a park bench in front of the Museum of Natural History.  Sadly, the Quiche Lady was nowhere in sight. The week's wintry weather (hopefully, that is the only reason) seemed to have kept many of our favorite regulars away this particular Sunday, but there were still plenty of colorfully friendly vendors and overflowingly tempting booths awaiting our empty market bag.

We found the hallway and cafeteria of PS-452 full of activity and Mari and I spent the next two hours browsing and chatting up vendors and letting them know how far away their just-released collectibles would be traveling.

Mari and I are anxious to do a little sharing next time; it's been too long.

In the meantime, check out the updated Grand Bazaar NYC site.

grandbazaarnyc.org