Sunday, October 01, 2006

STUFF I COULDN'T BUY (But really wanted to)

I've said it before, I’m out of space. I have no room for thrift store rescues of any significant size. Besides, buying more junk completely goes against my professed love a mid-century minimalist aesthetic. That's the nature of the thrift store adventurist's dilemma: we go to thrift stores to rescue the flotsam of the past from obscurity, ill-treatment, and (god forbid) the landfill, yet if we rescue too many items, they will still remain obscure, ill-treated, and if we're really in a bad mood, sitting in front of the giant green trash container on garbage day. It's bad enough that somebody got 47 years of use out of a coffee table before sending it along to Goodwill, but when I purchase that same table, work out the quantum mechanics of fitting it into the back of my compact Japanese car, hopefully without scratching it, hoist in slowly up the stairs to my apartment, and shove into a corner beneath of pile of other thrift store refugees for six months before realizing I just don't have room for another coffee table is, well, a double travesty. I should just go to thrift stores, admire, take a few pictures and wish the items will go to a happy home, one other than mine. But the obsessive collector within has already been awakened, tempted, taunted. It pains me to my core to leave this beautiful junk behind. Maybe I would feel better if I didn’t go and gaze upon all the cool crap in thrift store-ville. Stay home and read, and –dare I think it— clean house. That would probably be healthy. But this wouldn’t be a proper obsession without self-destructive behavior. So here’s the stuff I couldn’t buy. I'll just stare at the pictures from time to time and suffer. Hey, maybe you could buy it for me, and I’ll pick it up when I’ve got more room. Thanks in advance.

I poked, prodded, lifted, sniffed, and stalked around this mid-century school seating module("Church Educational Systems" on the underside nameplate) before convincing myself on ten different levels that I couldn't afford it. It was gone the next day. Aaarggh!

I know. I'd have to be 22 years-old, living in a dorm, and without a single stitch of furniture (besides an IKEA futon) to truly jusitfy this barber chair. In fact, I remember thinking it went really nice where it was, what with this thrift store's nifty linoleum floor. It was gone the week I went back. Sob.

An OSCILLOSCOPE! What self-respecting 1950s monster movie buff could pass up the opportunity to own a 50s-era oscilloscope?! Who cares if it weigh 500 lbs. and doesn't work? Then I thought of the real horror show my apartment clutter has become. Good lord, (choke)!

By now, I've pretty much chosen the 1950s and 1960s as my favorite design era. But c'mon, these mid-70's orange thrones... just think of the instant respect one would command. I justified not buying them because you had to buy a whole dining room set as well. Not in my mix and match world. Ha!

You have no idea how many 1930s and 1940s lady's make-up desks I run across. They're usually beat to hell, and missing a few pieces, but they always catch my eye and they always look a thousand time more stylish than anything you can by new. I think they wanted 95 bucks for this set. Plusses: Mirrored tile inlays. Bakelite shell drawer pulls. Cute as a button. Minuses: 95 bucks and 50 miles from home. Oh, and no more f---ing room. Oh well.

There are many more tales of "the one that got away" but I leave you with this. Something in terms of size and price ($35) that I could almsot justify stashing under the bed. Any self-respecting thrift store adventurist can not resist the "thing in the class case." It's amazing how just a 1/4 of an inch of glass can make the most useless object take on an air importance and awe. Like a museum piece that's spotlighted, enshrined on a pedestal, and just beyond your reach, it awakens the inner jewel thief, I suppose. I never really wanted an accordion, I don't plan on learning how to play one, but this blue marbled bowling-ball-esque "Accordilini" (!) beckoned like the Lorelei... "Buy me, and I will drown you finally in the pools of crap you have stuffed in every nook and cranny of your filthy home." Or something to that effect. Like I said, this is an unhealthy mental obsession, and this blog is my little dose of medicine.


sewingchick said...

I have an accordian joke for you :) There was this guy who was really into his accordian. He was going out on a gig, however he needed to stop off at the store on the way. He was more than a little paranoid about leaving his precious accordian in the backseat in plain view while he ran into the store, but against his better judgement, he left it there and into the store he went. A few minutes later he came out and as he approached his car, he noticed shattered glass. "Oh no!" he thought to himself. "Someone's broken into my car and stolen my accordian!" He peered into the backseat, and there were two accordians.


Marmot said...

Great stuff! I love reading this kind of topic.

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