And Sew It Goes

Exploring antiques stores and junk shops always incites regret.

People wander around saying things like, "My mom had one of those--I wonder what happened to it?" and "I used to have a whole bunch of those--I wish I'd kept them."

I recently noticed batches of old thread spools in a junk shop and realized that I had thrown many similar ones away over the years.  All of the thread I use now is wound on plastic spools, but I love vintage sewing stuff. I sew on a 1970s Kenmore portable machine that Doug found for me at Goodwill for $8 several years ago. The machine sits on a 1950s linoleum-topped table that I got for free after student move-out last June.

Yesterday in a Goodwill store, I noticed a hideous, filthy, green plastic storage box filled with thread--30 or 40 spools, about half of which were wooden.

The box was marked $5. Sold.

When I got home, I sorted the wooden spools from the plastic ones, snipped off the dangling threads, and put the vintage spools in an old Mason jar. 

Then I decided to do a little research.  I learned that Coats & Clark, the maker of most of the older spools of thread, is celebrating its 200th anniversary in 2012. I don't know when they stopped marketing their thread on wooden spools and switched to plastic, but one of my finds was marked 15 cents. Since I now pay about $5 for a spool of good thread, I'm guessing that a 15-cent price tag places these spools back at least a few decades.

Further research took me to a website where someone is selling random spools of vintage thread at $9.97 for 10.

That makes my purchase of that junky green box even better.

A Candle in the Window

I guess there are worse things to be addicted to than old stained glass windows--they're not harmful to your health like drugs and cigarettes, and they don't make you fat like too many TastyKakes.

But they don't just slide into the decor like another vintage camera or ice cream scoop.  They are a direct line to a new project.

Doug and I already had four stained glass windows in our house before this Saturday's trip to Strasburg, Penn. We were NOT in the market for another one. A new picnic tin? Sure.

A cute little syrup container with a green top? Why not?

But somehow, another window, caked with dust and leaning against a stone wall in one of our favorite antique barns, called to us as we shopped on Saturday. We both fell in love with the design--a simple candle in the middle of a multi-paned assembly:

We really didn't know where we would put it, and we spent the next 10 minutes trying to talk each other into and out of buying it. It was priced at $175, but when our offer of $130 was accepted, we walked out with a new treasure.

And a new project.

Doug suggested that we could move the wooden blinds on the double window over the couch in our living room and hang it there. That seemed like a good idea, so he crafted some metal brackets while I got out my always-ready can of white paint.

We took down the blinds, hung the window, and stood back.

It really wasn't working. There was too much open glass exposed without the blinds, but we knew the blinds wouldn't work with the stained glass.

When I suggested we try some valances to break up the open space, Doug went off to Home Depot for some rods while I headed for the sewing room.

Round 2. It still wasn't working.  The valances didn't really do the job, and now Doug pointed out that because the stained glass window was hung spanning a double regular window, the design was kind of lost because of the wood frame behind it.

Hmmm.

Round 3.  Let's attach it to the front door, which has a large glass opening halfway up.

Doug went back to Home Depot to return the rods and buy some different brackets while I rehung the wooden blinds and put the couch back.  By now, the cat was giving us dirty looks--it's tough to nap when people are drilling, banging, and moving the couch you're sleeping on.

When Doug got back, we attached the window to the front door and were really happy with the effect inside. But outside, the glossy white frame screamed out at us. It looked like an afterthought rather than an integral part of the door.

Round 4.  We removed the window again and took it downstairs to paint the back to match the front door and outside trim of the house.

Two hours later, when the paint was dry, we hung the window again. Then we noticed that a bit of white paint from the brackets had migrated to the back of the window. Doug loosened the screws while I went downstairs and got a little cup of the khaki outdoor trim paint and a cheap little brush to touch it up.

By then it was 8:00 p.m. on a day when we had already lost an hour due to Daylight Savings Time. We were so exhausted, we watched one mindless TV show and went to bed.
______
Window: $130 plus tax
Brackets: $11.94
Trips to Home Depot: 2
Number of times we hung window: 4
Sun shining through window in morning: Priceless

If Doug Had a Hammer

Several years ago, I picked up an old "secretary" at Goodwill. It was solid maple but kind of beat up--the drawers were water-stained inside, the hardware was a mishmash, the drop-down section didn't stay in place, and the cubbies inside were broken. It sat in our basement for 4 years, its drawers filled with rags and old towels, its top spilling over with onions and potatoes.

One day about a week ago, I walked past it and all of a sudden "saw" it painted glossy white with cobalt-blue glass knobs. It would be perfect to store my fabric.

Doug suggested that we simply get rid of the cubbies if I wasn't going to use the piece as a desk. "Let's go down and take a look at it," he said.

As a side note, I just want to say that we have passed up way too many opportunities for before-and-after pictures of treasures and renovations.  Recently, we vowed that from now on, we would be more diligent about documenting our work.

So we went downstairs to "take a look" at the secretary, and the next thing I knew, Doug was wielding a hammer, and wood was flying around the basement and hardware was bouncing off the concrete floor.

Hmmm, so much for a before picture....

Anyway, here is an intermediate shot with the dividers knocked out:

And here is all the scrap:

Doug also got a little over-zealous with the hammer and knocked out the trim piece that goes in front of the top drawer.  But we salvaged the parts, and he managed to glue them back together and reinstall the strip.

I found a great website that sold repro antique hardware and ordered the knobs.

Then I set to work with a can of glossy white paint. Five coats later (I should have started by using Kilz--lesson learned), I was satisfied. The knobs were making their way across the country from Portland, Oregon, to Newark, Del., but we moved the dresser into place, and Doug used all new hardware to reinstall the drop-down piece.

Uh oh.... His repair had made the fit too tight, and the section wouldn't close.

He went to the garage for a plane to shave it off, but progress was too slow. Now I had a pile of wood shavings on the rug.

Uh oh again. Out came the belt sander. Dust flew all over the room, but he finally got everything to fit. Then we realized that the sander had rubbed against my gorgeous paint job.  So I got my paint can and brush out again and repaired that problem.

The knobs finally arrived, and I think all of the fuss was worth it.

The open cubby  is perfect for larger pieces of fabric:

And the drawers hold smaller pieces:

Overall, Doug did an awesome job of helping me give new life to an old piece of furniture.  I just have to watch out for him and hammers.

Fleeing the Flea

Doug and I are always looking for new treasure-hunting sites. A web search on Friday turned up a flea market just over the state line from us in Pennsylvania, about 15 miles away. We went to bed that night with visions of picnic tins dancing in my head, antique cameras and ice cream scoops in Doug's.

The place looked promising online.  Located in a big white barn with an American flag draped across the front, it boasted 20,000 square feet of tools, collectibles, and furniture. But maybe we should have paid more attention to the part in the description about mattresses....

When we got there on Saturday morning, the building still looked promising, but the parking lot didn't.  There was only one car there, and the market had already been open for 2 hours.

Still excited about what we might find, we walked in. It was freezing--the barn had no heat. We realized we wouldn't be doing too much idle browsing. A quick tour through the aisles told me there was nothing there I wanted. I saw one Pyrex casserole in 1970s avocado like this one:

But it was marked $5. That's a Goodwill price, and Goodwill at least offers heated shopping.

Doug found a toolbox that he thought would be perfect for his staple guns, but it was marked $10, so he put it back.

But we soon realized we wouldn't be leaving empty-handed or story-less. A friendly little man in his 60s, who seemed to be the owner, told Doug the price was negotiable. Doug offered $5, and the case was his.

Then we found out that political commentary was free with the haggling. "I don't mind bargaining with you," the little guy said. "You're not one of them $2 people."

Huh?

I walked away, but he proceeded to tell Doug that the $2 people are "those Mexicans who are trying to take over our country."

As we left, he reminded us that his market has the best prices around on quality mattresses.

We smiled politely and told him we didn't need any bedding right now.

Doug will probably go back sometime.  He left behind dozens of unexplored boxes and racks of old tools--screwdrivers, pliers, measuring tapes, planes, and hardware. He's pretty sure there is a treasure or two buried in their midst.

If he's lucky, he might even get another dose of mushroom-country philosophy.

Goodwill Hunting

Last Saturday, Doug and I decided to do one of our Goodwill loops.  GW has a number of stores in our area, and the last one is just about a mile from one of our favorite Mexican restaurants, so we end the tour with lunch.

Goodwill stores aren't quite as much fun as antique stores and junk shops, but they're much safer on the checkbook. They don't harbor $300 antique cameras or $65 vintage coolers.

And they do offer up that same "you never know what you might find" excitement that treasure hunters feel every time they arrive at a garage sale or enter a thrift store.

Last Saturday's trip didn't yield much, but it was fun, and we did go home with a couple of good things. I found this cute little Pyrex casserole for $2.  It doesn't have a lid, but maybe some day I'll find one on another GW shelf.

I also found two nice vintage glasses. They were marked $1, but when I went to hand the cashier two dollar bills, she took only one of them--turned out it was $1 for the set. Even better.

After lunch, because the GW pickings had been kind of slim, we succumbed to the urge to stop at a junk shop nearby. I spotted what I thought was a vintage picnic basket up on a shelf, but when the cashier got it down for me, it turned out to be a Hawkeye pie basket.  For $20, it was mine, and we were on our way home.

It was a fun day for $23 plus the cost of lunch. And who knows what we might find the next time we do the GW loop?

Cosco Kitchen Stool Makeover

One of the best things about finding vintage stuff is learning more about it after you drag it home. Doug and I recently bought a 1950s Cosco kitchen step stool at an estate sale. It was paint speckled, dented, and rusty, but it was my favorite color (red), and it was only $10.

We probably watch too much renovation and DIY TV because I immediately had visions of this well-used old stool looking new again the way it would if Rick Dale of American Renovation worked on it. Doug doesn't have access to facilities for body work, spray painting, and re-chroming, but for about $15, he did an awesome job of fixing it up--including installing new rivets and other hardware, wire brushing the rust off the chrome, and priming and painting the seat, back, and trim.

When it was all done and installed in my sewing room (there's no room for it in our kitchen), I decided to search for images to see what other colors these multifunctional stools came in and how much they cost.

The old ads provided a window into not only the economics of the past but also the culture. I don't think I'll be using my Cosco step stool wearing pearls, heels, and a dress any time soon.

And as much as everyone says Doug looks like Santa, I don't think he would dare buy me something for Christmas that was advertised as a tool to lighten my work. But one thing about the Christmas ad is right:  the Cosco stool does brighten our house.

Watch out, Rick Dale.

Street Junk

You never know what you're going to find in the street when you live in a college town--recliners, sofas, desks, mattresses, lawn chairs...  A lot of it is beat, but sometimes there are gems among the junk.

One Sunday morning last June, I left the house to go running.  When I turned the corner, I couldn't believe the stash of "trash"in front of me. Half of the next block was lined with boxes, bags, and discarded items from mops and brooms to an artificial Christmas tree and a wooden clothes drying rack.

Anyone who knows me knows that I hate to stop in the middle of a run almost as much as I love to pick up junk.  It was only 6:00 a.m., so I figured I would run my 4 miles and come back.

Maybe not. Just as I started to take off, a van pulled up along the curb.... Another early-morning Dumpster diver.  We would have to share, and there would be no waiting until later.

It was worth it.  I ended up with an almost-new Cuisinart blender:

A set of heavy Ikea bistro glasses:

and an interesting stainless steel container that turned out to be the perfect holder for two rolls of toilet paper in our upstairs bathroom:

I also snagged some Ikea storage containers, a baby quilt that I donated to a local animal shelter, an Oxo colander, and some other kitchen utensils.

I love thrift store bargains and yard sale deals.  But free is the best.