Since the 54th Annual Winter Antiques Show took up most of my day on Friday, I returned to my room on the 15th floor of the lovely Tudor Hotel on 42nd & 2nd Ave., only a short walk from Grand Central. For the record, it was one of my more comfortable stays in a NYC hotel, and the central location between the three antiques events of the weekend was ideal – especially since I prefer walking over cabs and subways.

Saturday was ‘Antiques at the Armory’, not to be confused with the previous day’s show – which was also held at an armory and had the word ‘winter’ in it. All events were linked by NYC’s ‘Americana Weekend’ and had shuttle buses running on the hour & half-hour between them.

This second armory seemed to have entire parades of camo-garbed military guys milling around outside & past the coat-check area, and after being passed by a guy in regular blue jeans, I got the impression that this was a slightly more casual show. This was confirmed by the jazz being piped in, as opposed to the classical music of the other event; both classy options, but I definitely prefer the jazz. The starting prices of the items here were in the hundreds of dollars, instead of the ten thousands. After traipsing through million-dollar armchairs for a full day, I felt like I could finally breathe easy and maybe even afford something if it really caught my eye. The prices would eventually reach into the tens of thousands of dollars, but it was rare. The size of the floor in general was also smaller and easier to navigate.

This event had a larger focus on American-made items of the last 200 years, instead of the international (and usually more expensive) antiques scene. The event almost immediately won me over, the vendors all friendly and the atmosphere more relaxed. When I saw a moving Erector Set light-up robot stepping away on a table, I fell in love. This was at Fred Giampietro’s booth, which stole the show (and the whole weekend) as far as ephemera and oddities were concerned. And I’m all about the oddities.

The dark sense of humor of the whole area fascinated me, from the taxidermied dog guarding the items, to the carved figure of legendary glutton Diamond Jim. The best item of the whole show was the human skull diorama – encased in glass and wreathed by waxy, pale flowers, accompanied by the phrase ‘Folly commonly punishes itself’. Not only would this be a perfect item for my imaginary study, but the story behind it and its origins have been lost, making it even eerier. Also in the booth was a glass dome of miniature boxing gloves arranged potpourri style, a Jack Lalane massage ball, an elephant skull, giant teeth, and a carved wooden cat head with a clock in its mouth. I could decorate my whole sad, creepy life with this stuff.

Another item that really stood out to me was at Jeffrey Henkel’s booth. While already sold, this large wooden chair looks like something directly out of Tolkien’s Lothlorien. A beautifully epic item that looks like it’s been carved out of a single tree, emphasizing the natural details and knots in the wood itself. I’ve never seen anything like it, but it remains tremendous and inspiring.

Imagine my delight at seeing a second ‘folk art’ robot made out of old coffee cans, a bit further on.

At Jim Hirscheimer’s booth, a set of 21 carnival knockdowns caught my eye – especially because these were high-priced antiques that were designed to have things thrown at them and be durable, but ultimately destructible. For antiques that often list ‘original paint’ or ‘original costume’ in their descriptions, these were surely repaired and re-repaired throughout their existence. I was curious if these ongoing repairs really had as much of an impact on the price of an item if the item was meant to be damaged. The same conundrum came to mind when observing a dartboard at another booth.

Alongside the continuing bevy of antique furniture, I also greatly enjoyed this show and the items that it presented – many of which can be seen in this gallery in our Community Section. With one more to go, I waited outside for the free shuttle van to the Metropolitan Pavilion on the other side of town, grateful to be off of my feet for a few minutes.