#1 I enjoy reading old magazines. I delight in each discovery, reading my finds to hubby. He is always alerted to my discoveries by the gasp I make. Sometimes, when reading really good issues (typically anything before 1964), I gasp so often hubby will remind me to breathe so that I don’t pass-out… I often wonder if my Lamaze breathing would come in handy at these times, but I’ve yet to remember to try it. (If it works, you’ll be able to identify me at any estate sale by my hee-hee-who-ing.)

As evidence I submit this photo of a vintage magazine. It has 136 pages and there are 32 Post-It notes marking pages to scan. (Note: Some Post-It’s mark sections to scan, not just individual images.) Now you can see why he worries about my gasping.

#2 I enjoy auctions tremendously, but jump a lot at the noises auctioneer spotters make. I’ve not yet wet my pants or anything, but the day is nearing… Thank you, Kimberly-Clark, for Depends, and medical science for pacemakers & oxygen masks; now I’ll never be too old to be attending an auction.

#3 Hubby and I wear hats when out buying at auctions, yard sales, flea markets, and thrift stores. Even our kids have ‘hunting hats’.

My hat is this very noticable velveteen leopard print ‘cowboy’ hat that I got at a yard sale for $1.

Yes, we think we’re cool. Yes, it’s a bit hot, especially in summer; so I am always on the look-out for a lighter-shade (but equally cool — and inexpensive) hat. Yes, we know that by now ‘everyone’ knows we are dealers/collectors and that this could tip our hands. But the fact is we can easily spot each other at great distances.

#4 I don’t often polish my nails because as an ephemera lover I’m often digging through boxes and fear leaving red or other colored marks on the papers; yet I still prefer my nails long. The result is often broken nails which I then fidget with, anxiously, at auctions.

#5 Digging through boxes of old junk, my hand get very dirty. I wash them often, not only for the ‘ick’ factor, but because I don’t wish to soil other objects. Washing them often leads to very dry hands which I should pamper with lotions, but the fear of lotions leaving their traces, especially, again, on old fragile paper, prevents me from doing this. Even at night before bed, because I’m usually too lacking in oxygen from #1 to remember.

#6 I sometimes refer to dust on items in my home as ‘patina’.

#7 I have strange relationships with the ideas of ‘value’ & ‘worth’. As I fundamentally believe the value of anything is only what another is willing to pay, I sometimes take issue with retail and restuarant pricing and wish to dicker. I know it’s socially unacceptable, so I don’t (much to the relief of family & friends), but sometimes I’ll skip those outings due to ‘cost’ — and yet I will pay $5 for a pop and a lukewarm hotdog at an auction or flea market. Their ‘value’ increases greatly due to their proximity to the action.

#8 Sometimes things I don’t really like suddenly become adored simply because someone else is bidding/interested. I know my momma and daddy would smack me with a rolled-up newspaper for my bidding lust, but sometimes I just can’t help myself.

For example, I half-heartedly bid on a box of linens & other oddities, including a plush, handmade Miss Piggy doll. I was quickly out-bid by a mob of Muppet-manic mooches, which left me so upset that I heavily revenge bid on, and won, a later box which also included a similar Miss Piggy. I rationalized the larger bid by speaking of Miss Piggy’s resale return when I sold her. “Obviously, she’s in demand,” I said.

Miss Piggy is still here. I have not yet found the heart to sell her — or even investigate her potential ‘value’ — simply because I must still “enjoy the snot out of her” to get back at the infidels who dared to out-bid me on the first lot.

#9 I used to eschew ‘new’ collectibles, prefering to hunt only for ‘old things’. I told myself that paying retail for the latest release was tomfoolery when there were so many bargains to be had.

#10 I realized my folly in its entirety when I spotted Gene dolls. I can’t always afford them; but darn it, if I could I’d have paid retail (or higher) for each and every one. :sigh:

I then realized that I had adopted this snobby attitude because I needed not only to justify my inability to go after the retail priced collectibles and big ticket items, but to nurse my wounded pride too.

#11 I am fickle. Nearly anything — any collectible category, person, place, thing — can fascinate me and make me thrill to collect it. (Now you know why I was a bit worried about the love of new collectibles — at least before that, there were some limitations.)

#12 I am obsessive. Once I get my teeth (mentally — I don’t put collectibles into my mouth) into any collectible category, person, place or thing, I will ruthlessly research, hunt and track all I can on it. I can’t say I’ll always be able to discover the information, find the object, or be able to buy it if I do; but I’ll always be looking for it.

#13 I’m complicated. Driven by new fascinations as well as old and/or continuing hunts, and often at cross-purposes (such as meeting my girlie-girl needs and my collecting ones, or my conflicted judgments regarding ‘value’), I never quite know where my enthusiasm or bidding paddle will take me.

So now you can easily recognize me at any auction, garage sale, flea market or collector event: I’m the gasping girl in the animal print hat with hands, greatly in need of a manicure, holding onto an outrageously expensive hot dog dickering for a quarter on that box of old magazines. Yeah, that’s me.

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This entry was posted on Thursday, February 28th, 2008 at 6:36 am and is filed under collecting fyi. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.