(re-run) Twenty years ago, I was a dealer in an antique collective with 35 dealers. I was 45; everyone else was 65. My prices were so low that the other dealers shopped my room, bought my stuff, marked it up and put it in their rooms. One Sunday, I was working my required 12-5 shift… Continue reading Don’t Call Me Sweetheart
Category: antiques dealer
Don’t Call Me Sweetheart
(re-run) Twenty years ago, I was a dealer in an antique collective with 35 dealers. I was 45; everyone else was 65 or older. My prices were so low that the other dealers shopped my room, bought my stuff, marked it up and put it in their rooms. One Sunday, I was working my required… Continue reading Don’t Call Me Sweetheart
Don’t Call Me Sweetheart
Twenty years ago, I was a dealer in an antique collective with 35 dealers. I was 45; everyone else was 65. My prices were so low that the other dealers shopped my room, bought my stuff, marked it up and put it in their rooms. One Sunday, I was working my required 12-5 shift when… Continue reading Don’t Call Me Sweetheart
The Story of my Picker
When I had a shop, it attracted lots of individuals who wanted to sell me antiques. Some of them had good stuff. Others had junk. Many wanted too much for their inherited mementos. One old guy brought me cracked and chipped tea cups and got mad when I wouldn’t buy them at any price. A… Continue reading The Story of my Picker
The Case of the Missing Creepy Portrait
When I had an antique store and people were constantly bringing me stuff to buy, I acquired some large portraits from the 1800s, the kind where the eyes follow you around the room. I hung three of my favorites in the upstairs back hallway of the big marriage house, only to find out years later… Continue reading The Case of the Missing Creepy Portrait
The Story of my Picker
When I had a shop, it attracted lots of individuals who wanted to sell me antiques. Some of them had good stuff. Others had junk. Many wanted too much for their inherited mementos. One old guy brought me cracked and chipped tea cups and got mad when I wouldn’t buy them at any price. A… Continue reading The Story of my Picker
Alameda Point, at Last
A few towns from mine, there is a monthly gathering of vendors selling items that are twenty years old or older. It’s called the Alameda Point Antique Fair. I had never been until today. The irony is that I had an antique shop for six and a half years. And my customers would sing the… Continue reading Alameda Point, at Last
Antiques Dealer School
When my youngest was three, I ventured out in to the real world and rented a space in a handmade and vintage store. I did pretty well, but there were problems including accounting and theft. In my affluent town, shoppers unpinned the price tags and switched them around. I quit the craft store and invested… Continue reading Antiques Dealer School
FIRST DATE, WORST DATE EVER! 