The joys of estate sales

Today, my daughter and I came across an estate sale in our neighborhood. With time on our hands and cash in our wallets, it was hard to resist the lure of the sale. It always is. And the serendipity of time, money and an estate sale usually means that treasures will soon be found and bought. Today was no exception.
Lately, I have been wanting an old, manual typewriter. (That's redundant, no?). Something small for the secretary desk in our guest room. Something not too old -- maybe from the 60s or 70s. I still regret giving away my 1980s Brother typewriter, on which I wrote many achingly bad term papers and themes. And, for many years, I've so wanted one of those hooded hair dryers that ladies used for their own at-home wash-and-sets. Now, after today's estate sale find, I'm proud to say that for $10, I own clean, working models of both. (Thank you eagle-eyed daughter for first spotting and desiring the mint-green model we bought today!) And we found so much more: I bought my in-laws some big band records; I bought myself three shirts (one, hand-embroidered, another is a vintage Cub Scout den mother's shirt); I bought an Italian fruit print; I bought two pairs of groovy old man's glasses that I may have converted to my prescription.
So what is it about other people's old junk that I absolutely love? First, just walking into many homes in which an actual estate sale is taking place (unfortunately not all estate sales are created equally) is like walking into a time warp. Most of the homes in my neighborhood are between 50 to 80 years old. Often, the houses are filled with a jumble of clothes, jewelry, silverware, dishes, paintings, and -- I love this term -- bric-a-brac. I can paw through this old stuff for hours, if given the chance. Old buttons, tiny perfume bottles, heavy silk ties and scarves, shelves of books: these are the things that make my heart sing. Once, I sat and read letters and post cards from a World War I soldier at an estate sale. The whole lot was for sale, and I didn't buy it. I will always regret not purchasing them and sending them in to Washington D.C. for the Legacy Project. I sure hope someone else did.
Another reason for my prodigious estate sale shopping is for furniture. Furniture found at these sales -- and more than two rooms of our house are furnished entirely from estate sales -- actually fits in our home. Few of today's furniture fit in a house that is less than 2,000 square feet with three bedrooms, a den, a dining room and a living room. Estate sale items and family heirlooms simply fit best in these older homes. Plus, if you shop smart, you're likely to find well-made items that are very, very inexpensive. Only the very best furniture made today stands up as well as even the mid-range furniture made 30 or more years ago.
Finally, I am a collector of vintage tourists painting. Usually I buy oils or watercolors. They are hard to find in good condition but they abound in the Dallas homes I frequent. If I find one that sports a significant view in Italy or classical or neoclassical Italian architecture, I'm sunk. I must buy it. Today's find of hand-tinted print drew me in by its shape. It's about 8" by 2.5', and I think it's some kind of copy of a print by Raphael (or Raffaello).
Some day, either when we are downsizing or I'm dead, I guess folks will come traipsing through our home and buying up all this junk as well as any worthwhile items bought new. Will someone fawn over our Keurig coffee maker or will a heart palpitate when its owner's eyes spot our Levinger side tables? Will anything from Ikea bought today be desirable in 40 years? All I can say to answer this is: if my buddy Peggy once bought an 8-track cassette for a friend at an estate sale, then that Aneboda bed may yet be desirable to someone, even as kitsch.