Junque?

If I am asked what I enjoy doing the most, antique shopping is always near the top of the list. However, the term "antiquing" is not quite right.  I really do not like antique stores - I like junk shops. I don't want aisles of pretty, polished furniture or delicate glassware.  I want the old paper lining that came out of the drawers of that old dresser, the rusted drawer pulls. I want the broken lamp parts - you know, the stuff the store owner most likely threw away.  Finding the stash is only half the battle -the stuff I want is never priced.

The lack of a price tag can be a good thing, or a bad one.  I like to take my time considering the value and potential of each item, but that is often not possible when approaching a store owner with a fist full of odd bits.  The savvy store owner will do a subtle, personal inventory.  The accessing glance slides smoothly from the actual items to your hands.  Any jewelry? Any calluses? Is there a manicure evident? The sharp look will take in your purse and shoes as the seller quickly accesses your desire and ability to pay.  It doesn't seem fair, but it is good business.  I am not a haggler, but I do understand the game and work the rules in my favor.  I leave the house wearing my worst jeans and sneakers. I choose my most worn out purse with a long comfortable strap. Jewelry is definitely not allowed!

Today I found myself in the Cooper-Young district of Memphis where antique and junk stores intermingle, serving both the artistically inclined and the sophisticated collector. I had a short time to play, so I went to the most run down shop on the strip.  Scarred and broken tables were stacked outside along the sidewalk.  A recent rain had not prompted any act of protection and water pooled on the uneven surfaces. This was definitely the place to find rusty stuff! I dug through chipped plastic sand pails and moldy crumbling boxes, selecting the most interesting bits of metal from around the shop.  When I dumped my little heap at the register, the store owner gave me a grin.  "You're an artist." he pronounced.  "I'm right, aren't I"?  I looked sheepish and gave a little shrug. "Well, I try to be."  He looked over the pile of elegant drawer pulls and tarnished crystals and quoted me a great price.  His fellow clerk looked astounded.  He snatched up one of the crystals and held it to the light. "Are you kidding me?!" he demanded. "This is great stuff!"  The store owner snorted, "Buddy, she's an artist.  She's gotta be broke!" I guess it pays to leave a little paint under your fingernails.

Comments

[michelle]

I found your blog. You are my kind of shopper. Will add you to my faves..

[Rosemary]

Too funny, Suzanne. You just have to make sure you look sufficiently grubby the next time, as well. lol

Rosemary

[Brenda Loock]

What luck Suzanne!!! My children are still young, so I only own "mommy clothes" I don't have to worry about dressing the part, cause I'm already dressed for it. LOL!!! Even so, I have not had such luck! Maybe I should take a trip down your way some time. hehehe!!!

[Candice Windham]

Suzanne, I love that kind of shopping! Next to hardware stores, my faves are junk stores.

You're right about dressing down. When Larry and I are car shopping, we always wear grubbies, pull into the lot in our 15-year-old Carolla and no salesman bothers us so we're free to look. When we're ready to buy, we dress better. Of course, we haven't bought a car since 2004. I'd think anyone would be fair game for the sales vultures right now as long as they were breathing!

That's a great photo! I have my eye on a coppor door knob and back plate, but since it's $75 I hesitate to purchase it for art...and I can't convince Larry to let me chenge out all the knobs in the house!