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

NYC Markets revisited, episode 3. In which we are reunited.

When we are in New York on a Saturday, Mari and I are fleamarketing.  We have a plan (there is always a plan).  Hell's Kitchen Flea in the morning followed by lunch at Schnippers, followed by Chelsea or Brooklyn Flea.  I would like to say that this particular Spring Break Saturday was no different, but tempestuous Stella's tantrum was still resounding a few days later and a fairly icy wind kept the "always" open Hell's Kitchen flea open, yes, but disappointingly downsized. Not enough colorful activity to photograph, but I did manage to add a tiny tempting nicknack to our market bag, a small painted Florentine wood tissue box cover I plan to add to my nightstand collection.  If you are keeping track, that nightstand has become a reliquary repository for some of my oldest and most beloved collectibles.  I think it is probably due its own blog post some day, along with the rest of the hand-painted Florentine wood collection.

Yes, I know.  Just add it to the list.

After our disappointingly brief Saturday morning flea and the correspondingly wintry weather conditions, Mari and I made the executive decision to break from our planned itinerary that included an afternoon at the new-to-us (since the closing of the Antiques Garage) Chelsea Flea.  We'll get to you next time (weather permitting), Chelsea Flea, with your (gulp) one dollar admission charge, I promise!

We headed to another (temperature-controlled) favorite instead.  Above, Mari has been let loose in the wilderness of (formerly) Broadway's Beads World.  While no longer on Broadway, we found the recently re-opened beading supply wholesaler open for sparkly brilliant business with its very friendly, knowledgeable, and helpful staff waiting to show off their new expansive location.  This is one of our regular stops when we are in the City for restocking Mari's ever-expanding list of creative-projects-you-can-wear.

Visit the colorfully creative mecca for yourself or visit the new site.

beadsworldusa.com

At left is a colorfully fabulous friend we met on our way up Broadway. He looked like I felt having just finished a hale and hearty lunch at Schnippers, but at least I was walking off my sloppy Joe and mac & cheese combo bowl.

I love walking the streets of New York because it is a different walk every time, even if you follow the same slushily plodded path.
Part of a colorful outdoor art installation, Pinky greeted us warmly despite still being surrounded by frozen snow.

I have since found more information (and pictures!) about Taiwanese artist Hung Yin's eccentrically beautiful "A Fancy Animal Carnival" on the untappedcities website.  I also learned that my pictured friend's formal name is "Fortunate" Round Dragon, but she'll always be Pinky to me.

Visit the site for photos of the entire urban menagerie along with more information about the artist.

untappedcities.com/2016/09/21/a-fancy-animal-carnival-arrives-at-the-garment-district-plaza-in-nyc

Back to that slop-aliciously fortifying lunch.  Mari and I are always thrilled to share one of our favorites with friends whenever it's ever possible.  Not the first time we have broken (sloppy Joe covered) bread with old friends at Schnipper's Quality Kitchen at their original location on 41st and 8th (across from the Port Authority bus terminal), this Saturday afternoon was special because we had a chance to visit with a former student who has been enjoying creative success living and working in NYC.

Until next time, I leave you with a happy reunion.

NYC Markets revisited, episode 2. In which I'm lovin' on the library.

I don't remember when I first learned to read, but I fondly remember my first library.  I'm grinning a goofy ear-to-ear grin right now thinking about the Warner Public Library in Tarrytown, New York.  I have vividly bookish memories of Saturday mornings spent in the children's room searching the colorful stacks for my limit of five books to check out whereupon I would sit in a comfortable chair paging through them, trying to decide which I was going to read first.  I also liked going to Warner because the librarians were very friendly. They talked to me with respect and asked questions about what I liked to read and about the books I was returning and that made me feel important.  My love affair with libraries didn't end there, of course.

When I was a sophomore at Sleepy Hollow High School I had the good fortune of discovering my talent as a typist (100 WPM on a good day) and was recommended for a job as a typist.  At the Warner Library!  I was still an avid library patron and always had the overdue fines to prove it.  I could just never let go of books!

I was ecstatically nervous that Saturday morning in October of 1981 when I entered the library, not as an eager patron, but as a potential employee.  After a typing test, some card filing in the beautifully-patinaed oak catalog card files, and shelving some books correctly, I was given the job of clerk/typist and I started the following Monday after school at $3.35 per hour (which was, of course, minimum wage, yet still most exciting and liberating to this 15-year-old).

I worked between 10-15 hours per week for two weeks before I actually told my parents I had a job.  Mom and Dad hadn't wanted us to work because, according to them, school was our "job," but I worked my weekly 10-15 hours and then full-time during school holidays and summers (all without any adverse academic aftermath).  I worked at Warner all through college, too, when I came home from Indiana for breaks and summer vacations.

The Warner Public Library was my second home not just because of the warmth of my new friends and colleagues or the similarly inviting and nurturing comfort of the rows upon rows of neatly ordered and colorfully presented books, but because the building itself is such a remarkably beautiful example of neoclassical architecture.  A gift of the Warner family in 1929 to the people of the Tarrytowns, the breathtaking limestone building includes a large fireplace in the front reading room and ornamental moldings and cathedral ceilings throughout.  There was even a dumbwaiter behind the circulation desk that we used to transport books up to the second floor and down to the basement.  Don't tell anyone, but the high school students who worked as pages would give each other rides up and down the dumbwaiter when we knew we wouldn't get caught.  I wonder if that is still a tradition among the student employees!

Sorry, but I can't help going into all this so-called (by Holden Caulfield) "David Copperfield kind of crap" because I just love the Warner Library and because it was such a significant part of my childhood and because I do have a point.

My point is pictured here.

The Library Hotel is a dream come true for bookworms (late-in-life librarians or not) looking to carve out their own peaceful share of the Big Apple during a snowy spring visit.  No need to brush up on the Dewey Decimal System, but be sure to ask for a specific theme if you want to be surrounded by the perfect reading materials.  We were in the Native American room on the twelfth floor and found several shelves of volumes awaiting browsable respites from chilly city sidewalks.  Chocolates enrobed in golden wrappers emblazoned with literary quotes awaited us every evening at turn-down service.

Almost as good as being tucked in by a librarian!

Just ask Mari.

(almost as good)

You can read my full review (gush) of New York's Library Hotel on TripAdvisor or simply check out the site for more info.  Be sure to sign up for special e-mail offers.

libraryhotel.com

We'll get back to the very serious business of fleamarketing (in our fresh-out-of-hibernation South Texas winter clothing) next time, I promise, but for now I'll leave you with a bit of a tease.

Before I get myself into some grammatical (and marital) trouble, It is not Mari that is the tease, but the photo.  Until next week...

NYC Markets revisited, episode 1. In which I am Mother Nature's fool.

There is a universally valuable lesson to be learned throughout John Steinbeck's classic novella, Of Mice and Men, and that is one of the reasons I enjoyed sharing it with students year after year when I was a classroom teacher.  Aside from its brevity and beautifully minimalist writing (without a compulsive need for parenthetical asides), and the powerfully poignant friendship between disillusioned men in search of the elusive American dream, that final chapter sure packs a dramatic wallop.  Before digging into George and Lennie's tale, we'd prepare by looking at Robert Burns' poem (from which the title is derived) and sharing examples of our own personal plans that didn't quite get off the ground or that simply crashed and burned.

Our latest Spring Break plans would have been a perfect example to share with my students, especially since, as you may have heard, I'm a planner.  I plan trips months, even years, in advance.  I like to purchase plane tickets and select seats six months in advance so I can choose the most direct routes at the best times and travel in the most comfortable manner possible (budget willing, of course).  Over the years and miles there have been last-minute changes, as any traveler knows, that are out of my personal control. That's where travel gets difficult for me.

"Out of my control" is not something I like to hear or experience (or even type), but s--- happens.  That would be snow, of course.  The date of my latest best laid schemes?  The day I had prepared for and planned for months and months in advance?  Well, Winter Storm Stella had other plans for March 14, 2017. Sometimes I just need a gentle reminder that you can't outwit, outlast, or outplay Mother Nature.  That might be why I stopped watching Survivor after a few seasons.

By the way, I always picture Dena Dietrich from the 1970s Chiffon margarine commercials when I think of Mother Nature, don't you?

Maybe it is my age--no longer "gulp, fifty" but just "fifty" now--but I have kind of learned to go with the flow. Sometimes, there really is nothing you can do no matter how well you have prepared in advance.

Mari managed to snap that photo of me with the aptly-named Patience the lion after we finally arrived in my favorite city 48 hours later than obsessively planned.

I look pretty calm considering we missed our performance of Hamilton.

Mari and I learned an important lesson during one of our first visits to NYC together back in 2005.  NEVER buy theater tickets for the day of arrival.  That lesson involved a combination of flight delays (neither Dena Dietrich nor margarine were involved) that had us rushing into the Longacre Theatre just as the lights dimmed to see a glorious Kathleen Turner begin laying into her beleaguered husband (Bill Irwin, Tony winner for this role) in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf.  One of my favorite theater experiences almost didn't happen because I tried to squeeze one more show into our weekend, thinking that eight hours would be plenty of time to get us from LaGuardia to the City.

This time it was Hamilton.  The tickets I purchased ten months in advance for the carefully-selected day after our scheduled arrival were waiting for me at the box office.  Stella had other plans and cancelled flight after cancelled flight landed us in New York on Thursday afternoon, the day after Wednesday night's performance.  Thankfully, a good Samaritan and former student of Mari's who is living and working in the City was able to repurpose our tickets, but it will be another while before we have a chance to enjoy

Lin-Manuel Miranda's musical history lesson.

Another travel lesson learned and confirmed, we were finally safely entrenched in the exuberantly wintry-wet streets of a favorite city, favorite fleamarkets still on the weekend horizon.  We take a frosty dip into weekend fleas and I share what has become another beloved (library-themed!) favorite next time.

nypl.org

In the meantime, be sure to check the New York Public Library's thoroughly informative and beautifully laid out site.  Scroll down to the bottom and click on the "Plan Your Visit" link before you hit the city sidewalks (snowy or otherwise) yourself.

Dallas, episode 4. In which we go back to the future.

As a kid growing up in Tarrytown, New York, barbecue meant hot dogs and hamburgers.  Occasionally it meant grilled chicken or steak, bottled BBQ sauce on the side because Dad never let such things gunk up the grill.  Mom was always prepared with her foodie-before-foodie-was-cool version of compound butter which involved my going out to her herb garden and trying to figure out which of the multitudes was parsley. Today, living in Texas, barbecue has taken on a whole new temptalicious (still trying it out--I think I like it) interpretation.  In fact, the Texas citizenship test for those of us hailing from New York clearly identifies beef brisket as synonymous with barbecue, so pardon if I ever assume everyone is on the same delicious page.

While there is no official Texas Citizenship Exam, there is a rather embarrassing road test (parallel parking included) in addition to the written exam for those of us who let lapse their out-of-state driver's licenses.

After our meanderings with Monet, Mari and I had a chance to sample some of the local Fort Worth BBQ culture as well.  A quick search of the Food Network app gave me a few dining options in the area of the Kimbell Art Museum, but barbecue is never optional (it's required eating) so we happily set our sights and rumbly tummies on Angelo's BBQ, only about a mile away from the Kimbell.

Visit the Texas-friendly site to be temptaliciously (see, it's an adverb now) tantalized.

angelosbbq.com

Chalk up another episode of Bobby Flay's Food Nation for helping us find this local gem which has been in business nearly 60 years for good reason.  Mari and I ordered our "usual" which is sliced brisket and smoked sausage.  Usually we like to share sides so we can have a sampling of everything, but at Angelo's you get everything (beans, potato salad, slaw) with your BBQ plate.  Great concept, great service, great food, and great company (as usual, when I am breaking barbecue with Mari).

Angelo's brisket quickly replaced Austin's beloved Franklin BBQ as my favorite; a very close third belongs to the culinary smoky stylings of my brother-in-law, Aaron.

Itself only a few miles from our third and final Fort Worth stop for the day, the Fort Worth Water Gardens, Angelo's helped complete a perfect triangle of history, culture, and local nourishment on our travel map (it's actually more of a less-poetic rhombus if you take into account a few one-way streets, but you get the idea).

A longtime science-fiction fan(atic), my earliest film foray into those other (future) worlds was Logan's Run.  I am forever and eternally grateful that the non-creative imagination of current film studios has not ventured to ruin the memory of the 1976 film with a remake.  I'm all for a reboot, like the new Dallas series, and the new Bond and Star Trek film series, but don't remake a classic without a good reason (or script), okay?

The climax of Logan's Run occurs when Michael York's Logan finds sanctuary.  (Apologies, but I didn't think I needed a spoiler alert after 40 years.)  The futuristic sanctuary setting was filmed at the (then) newly completed (1974) Fort Worth Water Gardens.

Visit the site to plan your own futuristic visit.

fortworth.com/things-to-do/attractions/fort-worth-water-gardens

The imagery of that final scene with its symbolically freely-flowing fountains of water forever remained with me and has been on a mental travel list ever since.  Mari and I were happy to see so many families enjoying the beautiful afternoon together in such a special setting.  As I watched the kids wandering up and down those steps and throughout the park, I wondered how few of them had enjoyed (or even heard of) one of my favorite films.

It didn't really seem to matter (except perhaps to nostalgically sentimental tourists).

I hope you enjoyed this quick DFW visit.  I look forward to our next new-old journey together.

Programming note:  SecondhandTravels will be off air and off the grid next week while its host celebrates that great educational tradition called Spring Break.  A few updates and revisits to some old favorites next time.