NYC Markets, episode 6. In which the genie is uncorked.

The first item I ever purchased at an antique mall...

Wait!  That's a whole other (future) fleamarketing adventure and another state (Michigan, in case you must know).  And another century!  One of my intentions when starting this blog slash writing experiment was to share some of the cool-to-me pieces and collections that have found me over the years.  I have waded through so many pictures (there are painstakingly-edited and precision-soundtracked iMovie videos and iPhoto slideshows of every trip, too--but you could probably figure that out) in the past few months that I found it easy to narrate the events of our fleamarket travels without revealing too many of our marketed discoveries.  I pledge to put a show-and-tell end to that today.

For the moment, let's get back to one of my favorite fleamarkets in one of my favorite cities with my most favorite travel companion in the world.

Mari and I are at the GreenFlea, remember?   It's a sunny, crisp Sunday although sometimes it's a little cloudy, but lucky for us it has never rained on our New York outings (remember, we have those lucky travel umbrellas to stave off the rain).  Remember, too, we're in the middle of an amalgam here (lots of trips, lots of souvenirs, lots of bubble wrap).  Since our first visit to the GreenFlea many moons ago, Mari and I have made it a permanent fixture on our New York getaway weekend agenda.  When we are in New York on a Sunday, we are at the GreenFlea.  Period.

My name is Lou and I am an old bottle collector (add it to the embarrassingly long collections list).

For my fellow grammarians, it is the bottles that are old.

Not just any old bottle, but bottles and jars with character, with history, with a purpose (whether that purpose still exists or not in the 21st century).

Here are some of my treasures.

This is my first.  (Okay, I'm returning to Michigan for a paragraph.)  What was it that made me stop and begin one of my first collections?  It was the texture of the ribbed glass which I ran my fingers over when I picked it up from that crowded shelf in that crowded booth in that crowded antique mall just seven miles from my college apartment back across the Indiana state line.  It was also the three classic fonts (each unique, but still harmonious in trio) imprinted on that metal emerald green lid that had seen much better days, but which had obviously been worn down from its former immaculate majesty by a once needy hand and follow-up years of indifference.  Neglected no longer, my antique-mall-rescued treasure found a new home among my pedestrian, college budget shaving items.  While no longer preserving its intended contents, this ribbed jar remains actively alert, a reminder of past artful form, amidst high-tech herbaceous salves that make me somewhat presentable in a more "advanced" era.

Can you say as much about your 99-cent can of Barbasol?

I didn't realize I was an old soul until I made that first six-dollar purchase over 25 years ago.

(More on my favorite antique mall just south of downtown Niles, Michigan, another wistful day.)

Today we are at the GreenFlea and one of my favorite vendors has provided me with a few more timeless beauties as well as several special items for Mari's own collections.  Below are some of the pieces of Scott Jordan's "artifact art" that I have re-collected from the regular GreenFlea vendor over the years.  Visit Scott's website for more photos, his story and inspiration, and to purchase his enjoyable book, Past Objects.  I was thrilled to have him sign my own copy on a recent visit.

scottjordanartifactart.com

I confess, with evidence freely proffered, that I am not a professional photographer and I humbly thank Scott for the opportunity to purchase these treasures which he continues to rescue from various construction sites.  Each of the four bottles above is about two to three inches in height, for some perspective, and each now sits on glass shelves in the bath amidst those lotions and potions that keep me stylish (but not too stylish) and suitably groomed.

Here are two more of my cherished favorites.

Lefty is nearly five inches tall and I knew he was mine as soon as I saw him.  Scott was unsure of its original purpose, but it stood out to me among his collection one Sunday morning and practically pouched itself in my waiting bubble wrap.  Until recently, glass-bottle man spied out at me from among the salves, filled with fragrant lavender buds brought home from an afternoon shore excursion in Provence a few summers ago.

Somehow, I knew that ol' Lefty's bold glass countenance wasn't originally suited to lavender buds, but I didn't hear any complaints and an open bottle of fragrant anything made sense in a bathroom.  It was only recently that I learned of my fleamarketed treasure's own humbly fragrant beginnings.

At an antiques show in Harlingen, Texas, a few months ago, I came across the little fiery guy on the right (with flaming red lid intact!) who had been rescued from an unknown location in Michigan by a Chicago collector-dealer who had brought the former mustard jar on a 1,500 mile journey where its caustic countenance met my browsing gaze across a crowded convention center.  This roving dealer had also brought along lavender-bud-man's twin (with battered metal cap announcing his own spicy origins)!  It's fun and rare when that happens:  both seeing your own unique collectible in a completely new location and discovering what that collectible originally collected (hot dog "sauce" from the 1940s in this case).

Solving the Lefty-lavender-bud-glass-bottle-mustard-man jar mystery has led to a reunion of sorts with both fleamarketed-across-the-miles treasures now securely (and more suitably) entrenched among a kitchen cookbook collection.

Before we detour back to fleamarketing the GreenFlea, Mari wanted to share some of the treasures she has liberated from Scott Jordan's collections via his creative partner, Dolhathai, a Thai artist who fashions found finds into one-of-a-kind jewelry art.

A patinaed brass tag, a porcelain lion's head, and a smoothed glass fragment have been lovingly crafted into wearable reminders of treasures long lost, but not forgotten.

Visit Dolhathai's beautiful site

pastobjectsart.com

for her story and to

browse her collections.

It is found objects, compelling stories, and collector-artists such as these that keep me fervently fleamarketing and that have me returning to favorite vendors and fleas over and over. You don't need to be as passionate (obsessed?) as I may be over old bottles or (insert name of collection here), but once that first piece of whatever winks at you from that crowded shelf, overstuffed booth, or under-a-garage-sale-table-cardboard-box, you'll (hopefully and joyfully) feel and embrace that collector's urge that will drive your own travels.

More treasures, tales, and trinkets next time.