Let's be an antique mall! Part II

I'm yet another dealer who is unfit for a public-facing role. My booth is crammed from floor to rafters, chests of drawers and tables and hall racks two and three deep and poor lighting, so precarious is this jenga puzzle of furniture that I come every day just to make sure no one moves things around.

When someone asks politely if they could see a chest that has a stack of nine chairs in front of it, I say yes, then I reconsider and try to suss them out, "If you're really serious about buying it, I'll pull it out for you, but it's a lot of work for me and I'd rather not unless you're sure you're going to buy it."

"But I can only see a corner of the piece now, I can't promise to buy it until I can see it."

"Well, like I said, it's a lot of work for me, and I had an operation in February..."

"Nevermind."

Three quarters or more of the stock I have isn't antique at all, it's just old shit

Our marriage was like an antique store, full of shit and always closed.

[quote]Three quarters or more of the stock I have isn't antique at all, it's just old shit

Old shit? We don't even bother with old shit anymore, R2. It's just shit.

I'm going to Palm Springs today and always antique there. Hopefully I'll have a funny story to share, but in the meantime there's this one:

I'm any gilded object, whether candelabrum, a hutch, or an antique pickle jar with gold-plated tongs. My dealer will tell any gullible-looking homosexual (or purple-haired lady) that I once belonged to Liberace. Most believe it, with no proof of provenance. Once sold, the dealer brings in a similar one to sell again. After all, Liberace had multiple homes filled to the rafters with this shit! But none of this was his.

R5 I would LOVE an antique pickle jar with gold-plated tongs. Liberace, Liberace-adjacent, or what's a Liberace? I would truly love it.

I’m the overpriced Beanie Babies and replica Coca Cola memorabilia.

I'm the customer looking for Limoges china who doesn't know that many different factories made porcelain in Limoges, including Haviland, butinstead thinks there was a company called "Limoges". She passes by a stunning leaf-shaped bon bon dish featuring a hand-painted violet and grape motif and bordered with 22CT gold, because it's marked Haviland L. (the L stands for Limoges, and also indicates late 19th century-early 20th century make) instead of "Limoges".

It's marked $65 Firm and is a work of art in its own right, and is probably really worth several hundred dollars.

"Do you have any Limodge china?" she barks at the clerk?

R6, I meant to type "antique pickle caddy." They're actually very frivoloys and fancy.

*frivolous...just waking up here.

Even better r9!

Thanks again OP for starting Part 2 after hearing my plea in Part 1. I have the corona blues something horrible. I know, MARY! But there it is.

There is something so comforting about these threads. I find the stories so soothing and funny, and often informative.

Fuck I'm welling up again. WTF? I'm a 53 year old male antique and I'm acting like a hormonal and ridiculous 13 year old girl. I am so embarrassed . Anyway, I appreciate you. All of you, seriously.

[quote]I'm going to Palm Springs today and always antique there.

Sorry, was there Friday and bought them all out.

Anyone need a pickle caddy? I found seven.

You're welcome, R11. May you find treasures.

I'm a series of strategically opened coffee table books and features in design magazines about blending antiques into modern homes and lifestyles. And I'm highly ineffectual beyond the occasional "Hmmmph." In the end this isn't 1st Dibs, not by a country mile, and if my clients had houses like that, they would be at real antiques shops not this dump that smells like old shoes.

I'm the booth emitting that combination scent of mold and mothball. I was fine until my renter brought in that one item that stunk up everything else. But which one was it? My renter will grow exasperated trying to figure it out.

I'm the mall's new black and white logo. I'm sure to draw the more sophisticated customer because black and white is classy.

I'm the greeter, instructed to never leave the greeter's desk. Because those 2006 Country Living magazines aren't going to read themselves.

I am the Vincent Price Collection fan who desperately tries to draw attention to it:

It's just like a mini-mall....

I'm the editor of a small regional antiques magazine, and one of our biggest advertisers was just arrested for molesting his kids over a 10-year period. I'm not trying to be facetious; this really did just happen. The guy was an asshole and I never liked that rat bastard anyway.

I’m the booth half filled with rusty tools and odd farm equipment. No one looks at me except the occasional bored older husband who is waiting for his wife to decide on a vintage piece of lace.

I'm the guy with a huge spanking fetish who will visit every booth and especially that booth in R19. I'm looking for worn razor strops and paddles. Whenever I find one it's a huge turn on, but I don't usually buy it because it's too embarrassing to face the cashier peering over his half-rim glasses.

R5 here...only went to one antique store today in PS. Victoria's Attic in the Atrium in Rancho Mirage...has anyone else been there? It's like the Twilight Zone compared to their previous store on 111. Anyway, only me and a foreign-seeming couple were in there. I'd already been to x2 Revivals thrift locations and scored a few things for super cheap. I made the "mistake" (big quotes) of going to the bathroom first, and then perusing the other sections of the store on the other side of the Atrium. When I walked in the main part of the store, OP's cashier (I should've gotten a pic) said, "Oh, you've been here awhile...I was watching you." At which point he limp-wristedly shook his cell phone in one hand...I guess he has the store cameras on an app on the phone. Just because he was a little bitch, I didn't buy anything, even though there was a Fiesta Ware pink pitcher I wanted.

An antique mall is a mall that is antique. An antiques mall is a mall where antiques are sold.

r21, Oh...I left the desert 5 years ago, I miss my old haunts.

I am the plastic crap made in the 1970s. I am in bold colors and patterns. I am described as Brady Bunch era. The dealer who stocked this booth is convinced I am what all the young kids want. Never does she notice very little of this crap has sold. This is especially true of anything in Avocado green. Her master find is a rusty, dented Brady Bunch lunch box, priced in the hundreds of dollars. It is locked up in its own glass case. No one ever looks at it. No one will ever buy it.

Did you check all the shops on Industrial near the PS Revivals? A couple on Sunny Dunes as well. R5?

R25, hitting the Sunny Dunes and Antique Galleries tomorrow. They usually both have some treasures.

I'm the Native American booth where you'll see worn out beaded moccasins, cradleboards, old blankets, woven Navajo rugs, and lots of turquoise jewellery with "Old Pawn" labels, (most made for the tourist trade by people like Tanner's benchmen in Gallup from the 1960s and on), very few of which are actually one-off pieces by serious artisans with high grade rather than stabilised turquoise.

There's also lots of pottery but none of the visitors have a clue about the difference between San Ildefonso and Santa Clara work - if it's a bit chipped and broken they snap it up eagerly thinking it's old and must be valuable.

People stop here hoping to find something like that blanket of Sitting Bull's they saw on The Antiques Roadshow that turned out to be worth $500,000.

In your dreams, wasichu.

I am the shopper happy to wear a mask in here because the mildew smell is like Grandma’s basement.

I’m the vinyl LPs that have not sold in 12 years and will never sell. The hipsters bought up all the Springsteen & Rolling Stones, but Tammy & Engelbert sit untouched.

I am a small pair of ceramic elves wearing chartreuse elf outfits with long chartreuse pointy toed shoes.

I'm the dealer who did the math, and figured out that it was cheaper to rent a both than to rent a storage locker, so I've moved all my unwanted crap out of my home, and into the mall, where I will NEVER sell even one item.

I'm the Norman Rockwell repro decorative plates.

I'm also the pile of old Norman Rockwell cover magazines.

I'm the phrase, "I'll think about it" uttered by the customer who just spent 25 minutes looking at something.

I'm the shopper who comes in looking for a "chester drawers."

I'm the booth that's locked up like Fort Knox. Sadly my contents do not justify the myriad of locks that keep my door closed.

I'm "Ye Olde Scold," or "I Don't Care if You Have One Just Like It!," the booth where everything in me comes with an admonition: "Do not touch!" "Ask before touching!" "Price FIRM!" "Do not open vitrine!" "NFS!!!" "Serious inquiries only!" "Do not 'flip through' picture frames—I will show them to you!" "All prices are firm!" "You break it, you bought it!" "No children!" "No pets!" ""No looky-loos with the prints—serious only!" "Leave bags and large coats at front desk!" "Ask to look in glass case!" "Locked! - Do not try to open!" "Can't you see I'm busy with Data Lounge? Don't bother me!!!"

I’m the laser-printed, black and white flyers featuring camcorder clip art from the early 90s that state “Video Cameras in Use” in Comic Sans font, hanging by 1½” pieces of Magic Tape and haphazardly placed throughout the store. I have fallen or been pulled down numerous times but always go back up, as if the owner considers me as valuable as the merchandise said cameras “protect.”

I am the stacks and rows of old books nobody wants. I am the ridiculous prices on t he old books. I am the rare first edition the booth owner has not a clue of what I am worth.

We’re the donated vacuum cleaners stored in the closet underneath the back stairs that make the carpet even dirtier than it was before.

I am the shelves of clear cut crystal or pressed glass salvaged from the homes of legions of dead grannies.

[quote] I’m the vinyl LPs that have not sold in 12 years and will never sell. The hipsters bought up all the Springsteen & Rolling Stones, but Tammy & Engelbert sit untouched.

I sit in the bins unwanted and unloved because the vendor thinks that old = valuable, but like so many other antiques, record pricing also factors in supply and demand.

I'm the angry disbelief on the faces of prospective random sellers when told that their antique sewing machine, rickety brass bed frame, or gargantuan oak dining table w a missing leaf is of no interest to anyone

We are the Christmas decorations no one wants, representing the worst taste of every decade in the last 80 years.

I'm the overweight goth girls in combat boots and severe dyed-black bangs in 1985 walking in and asking where the, "Case of lunch boxes are." A slightly amused older clerk shows us, and we each buy one of the authentic metal ones featuring 70's TV show themes.

We'll use them with our outfits at the trendy clubs as purses, because that's a whole thing!

I'm the vintage straight porn scattered around the store and described as "art". Old Playboys, old Penthouse and even a few old Swanks. Oddly enough, there's never any gay porn.

[quote]Oddly enough, there's never any gay porn.

The pages are all stuck together r45.

R21 Is that the one where you can tell the building used to be a whole bunch of little storefronts but now just has stuff for sale everywhere?

Bump.

I'm the dealer's cheapness. I'd rather spend $2 on some cheap piece of junk at a garage sale and then price it at $60, then spend money on quality items and ask market value prices.

Im the nasty old bitch who has a booth but also works the register quite a bit . More often than not when someone brings up something from my booth I will snap "Thats not the right price ! Its not for sale!" because Im convinced someone found a treasure and is screwing me over . Some catty queen thought he was being cute when he wrote up a big sign saying "Thats not the right price ! its not for sale!" and hung it in my booth where it sat unnoticed for a week .

I'm the owner who holds a grudge forever! When the guy who asked me about the filthy bathrooms five years ago and who ended up calling the city to report them walks in, I will call the police to have him removed from the premises.

I'm the Hipster gay who is dumb enough to pay $65 for a rusty Fat Albert lunchbox. I'll use this to present my $19 whole foods avocado toast lunch in. This is why I still live with my parents at age 30.

I'm the ElderGay looking for an art deco, Tiffany lamp, in mint condition - for about $10. Though I've been trying this for decades, I throw on my caftan and hope that elusive prize will one day find me. I hope I will also get topped again one day.

Oh, I love this thread. How have I not seen it before? I used to have one of those booths 15 years ago, and it was a great way to get rid of three generations of furniture, kitchenware, tools, etc., that I inherited. I got rid of it all easily because I sold it so cheap the other dealers frequently bought it.

People would buy an end table or bookcase from me for $20 and then do a fashionable faux paint job on it and quadruple the price and it would never sell for them. Sometimes other dealers would get pissed at me for pricing something much lower than their price for the same item that had been sitting in their booth for months or even years.

Now I have to go to the other thread and read it from the beginning.

We're the dealers fuming that we're not making any sales and cannot access our merchandise because the Ford gov't lock down has closed the building.

I'm the toys and school books that cause depression in people when they realize that what they used as a child are now considered antique.

I'm the eviction notice on the front door, taped there by a Sheriff's Deputy because the rent hasn't been paid for months. Several 40 cubic yard dumpsters will be moved into place shortly, as the final repository for the dusty, smelly, worthless old crap that no-one wants anymore.

End of thread(s,s,s,s,s,...)

I'm the rich more interesting stuff visible if you peek into the Staff Only room.

I'm also the best stuff nicked by the staff that never makes it to the shelves.

This goes for thrift and resale shops and Habitat for Humanity's ReStore, too.

^*much more

[quote]because the Ford gov't lock down has closed the building.

Are you posting from 1977?

No R58, Ontario, Canada.

I'm the Bakelite stuff. You have no idea how avidly collectors seek me out, despite the fact that I am really just fucking plastic jewellery.

I'm the numerous faux pearl necklaces from the 1950s without which no antique mall glass case is complete.

Someone is always asking, "Do you mind?" as she rubs me against her teeth to see if I'm real or not, and then puts me back without even offering to wipe, ewwwww, then her bacteria dry on me.

Thankfully, in the era of COVID, they can't do that, at least not where they can be seen.

You'd think they could tell from my price tag that I'm faux.

Frankly, I look just as nice on a twin-set as my authentic sisters, who usually show nacre wear and blisters.

I look better and cost less.

Buy me and get me the fuck out of this glass case.

I'm the four booths with similar Wedgwood pieces all optimistically priced.

I’m the glass cabinet full of Beanie Babies that somebody purchased in the nineties. They honestly believed I would pay for their retirement.

i'm the random items that have languished for years, we've all been sold for absurd prices the day after having 'not for sale' stickers attached to us!

I'm the grossly overpriced item in a cabinet. I will sit, untouched for five years until someone writes an article about me. Some enterprising soul will remember seeing me in this cabinet and snap me up to immediately resell me for three times what he paid.

Costume jewelry is not made to give women an aura of wealth, but to make them beautiful, r60.

I’m 200 square feet of leased “Please get the fuck out of the house and take some your hoard with you just for today” space. I have saved relationships.

I'm the booth loaded with rusted vintage child-grave toys left in rural cemeteries. Some look stepped on.

Small tractors, cars, trucks with wheels missing, a space ship, old jacks....

My renter should be beat with a bronze vase. But no one thinks about "this junk" at all, except his fellow ghouls. And I'm just a vague space whored out to sell desperation and trash.

Two fields are going to be open at Brimfield this May.

I’m the charismatic customer who wears $5,000 in rings on each hand and this is my autistic son.

While I work the clerks at the jewelry counter, my “son” is breaking into jewelry cases and boosting silver and good smalls.

I went to an antique store today and the elder shop bottom said “found some treasures?” when I put my stuff on the counter. I love when RL is DL life.

LOL @ R71

My favorite posting from the first thread. I find this hilarious:

[quote] You are the guy who has stacks of stuff that is unpriced because you don't know the value or worth of anything, you are just a picker. I am the guy who knows your game who gives you 5 things to price but I don't tell you which one I really want because I don't want to be your truffle pig.

I'm the antique mall that was once filled with genuinely good vintage items. As my booth owners and customers aged and died off the owners have decided to attract a younger clientele by allowing new dealers to fill their booths with comic books, toys, records, DVDs and video games. I might as well be a yard sale.

I'm Paul Martins cod peace, I make a showing everytime Flogit films below the belt

I am the reason why the eldergay at R51 has had no luck finding an Art Deco Tiffany lamp.

Tiffany worked in a mode that has since come to be called Art Nouveau.

Not Art Deco.

I'm the pre Christmas sale. All my dealers will raise their prices by 30% and offer a 20% sale price. After the sale my prices will go back to what they were before, which is still too high.

Keep them coming, bitches. These threads are great. Thanks to the person who bumped part 2!

I am the enormous framed oil painting of Cekine Dion. Shoppers will gaze upon me and wonder, "Will anyone ever buy that? Who owned that? Who in the world needs an oil painting of Celine Dion?"

(Real world example and yes. . .someone ended up buying it. It was at Orange Tree Antiques, Winter Park, Florida)

I'm the dealer who, upon learning that an item I sold for $50 was worth $600, raises the prices on all my remaining items to get back the money I believe was stolen from me.

We're the dealers hauling all our Christmas shit out of storage and stacking our shelves with all this dusty, musty Santa Claus shit and hoping to make some money off it. Most of it will go back into storage on January 2.

I'm the dealer who fills my booth with junk. I loiter around the antique mall everyday and when I see someone eyeing my crap, I chat with them and try to convince them to meet me in the parking lot across the street to see "the good stuff" in my car.

I'm the dealer who never shuts up about all the great treasures I missed out on. The way I talk you'd think I could have bought the Mona Lisa for $6 plus the frame but my bus was late.

I'm a blue nylon fanny pack with multiple zippers and compartments. I've got bills in all denominations, but mostly $1s and a couple of $5s. I've got some Marlboro Lights and a Starbucks gift card for after the antiques mall.

I'm shelf after shelf of mass-produced 1960s ceramic schlock. I'm not designer, I'm not by an artisan, I was never anything but tat, I will never look chic or cool or stylish; I barely serve my nominal utilitarian purpose (ashtray, water pitcher, salt and pepper shakers, what have you).

I am $50-60 per piece.

I'm "firm".

To clarify, I am the given price.

As opposed to the butt cheek flesh of any person working here.

I'm the regret the buyer feels when they get home. They knew deep down inside the item they bought was grossly overpriced, but after driving 60 minutes to the place, they didn't want to leave empty handed. The item will end up on ebay with a Buy it Now price of what they paid. It will never sell.

[quote] I'm "firm". To clarify, I am the given price. As opposed to the butt cheek flesh of any person working here.

I'm "firm" on the day that my rent is due. If you have cash, let's make a deal on this tchotchke.

I'm the dealers discount and I knock 10% off the sticker price every time another dealer uses it. I am loathed by every dealer in this place with the heat of a thousand suns because it . Until they see something they want, then they gleefully use it.

I'm the thrift shop 2 blocks down and 1 block over, where most of these items can be had for 1/10th the price.

I'm the embarrassing item (or dead cockroach, rodent, etc.) left in the drawer. How did that get in there? Wasn't me. I didn't leave that in there.

I’m the large antique mall in an old building that used to be Walmart. I was last remodeled in 1987 and all of the advertisements involve the owner’s retarded children to gain sympathy.

R51, most Tiffany lamps were Art Nouveau.

*swishes caftan*

I'm the overpriced crap my shop owner just picked up at the thrift store down the street. I've been marked up 1000% and although I've been identified as an antique bowl circa 1897, I'm really from the "Pioneer Woman" collection at Walmart

I'm the dealer who's pricing is all over the place. Crap is grossly over priced while genuinely good items are priced at under $20. My barely hidden alcoholism must play a part in this.

I'm the dealer who looks like a bag lady. I tramp into the building before they open, take up a spot which invariable makes it difficult for customers to get past, and then spend four to five hours working all five of my booths. Moving things around, lightly dusting things and changing prices. I rarely sell anything but it's not because what I have here is junk, it's because people are morons and don't appreciate quality items!

I’m the amateurishly executed, odd smelling taxidermy w cheap creepy looking eyes.

THANK YOU, R97, for that Bad Taxidermy link. I can't stop laughing!

My pleasure treasure r98 here is another link you may enjoy 😊

I'm the BIG annual sale! Ten to fifty percent off everything in the mall!

I'm also all the good stuff the employees remove from the booths for themselves the night before the big sale starts.