On Friday and Saturday I went to the same estate sale three times. I was certain there were things I had overlooked, so I went back twice. And I was right to.
The sale was in Williamson County, and not a quarter mile from Edwin Warner Park. It was in a subdivision of McMansions in one of the richest and most Republican counties in the United States. On one side of Vaughn Road were the more modest houses, and the sale house was one. On the other side, guarded by security gates ,there were Tudor replicas and faux Tuscan villas.
Even at eight there was a line, though many of those closest to the front door were represented by canvas bags used as placeholders, put down by a buddie who arrived early. Later his Ebay re-seller and dealer friends showed up and went to their bags, jumping the line.The common people grumbled about this, but they actually had little to fear since the first day prices left the re-sellers little margin. They came back the next day when everything was 50% off and made off then with the silver candelabras.
And what was the General Public buying the first day?
An Ottoman. Grocery bags full of cleaning supplies from the laundry room and foils and wraps from the pantry. Tool sets. Big clay flowerpots. Books from the dozens in the study-James Patterson,Anne Rivers Siddons,Michael Connelly, Maeve Binchy,Rosamunde Pilcher, biographies of the various Bushes, including Barbara. These were two dollars ,but the Civil War and Nashville histories, of which there were many, went as high as 12 dollars.
They sold none the less, as did a large framed print of General Robert E Lee. And some astute ladies,scouring the upstairs bedrooms, found hand sewed linens and lace. They raided the shoe closet and left it bare. They decimated the pocketbooks-
There were the usual tables of glass ware and silver services, ignored the first day, absconded with the second. An antique dealer from Franklin, who I talked to in line,had told me it was hard for her to figure out what people wanted to buy these days. Of one thing she was certain.
No one wanted glassware.Unless it was half off.
The basement held luggage, two tables of Christmas decor, three ancient childrens' sleds, that I doubt saw more than one or two days of snowy hillsides in 40 years. There was a six inch high pile of doormats.
"She had one for every season and every holiday", one of the Estate Sale staff told me. Cornucopias, hollies, carved pumpkins, tulips, and Easter Bunnies.
A peculiarity of this sale was how much stuff was still in wrappers, and never opened. Napkins and linens. Bath soaps. Fancy knife sets and pewter salad servers hand cast in Norway.
The sale was crowded, the checkout line long, and standing there allowed me to spy and people watch. I saw once again the All In Black Boho couple. He was in tight black leather with his white-blonde hair tied in a topnot. He had multiple facial and ear studs and was carrying a poodle. Black of course. His wife was noir as well. Her hair was the color of a carrot. I have seen her in closets before, looking for evening wear, ball gowns, and inspecting the furs-
And what did I buy, besides a rug and a hand vacuum?
A vintage Mouli grater-
A set of antique Limoges dessert plates-
An oversized spice jar-
A pewter salad set-
A vintage Juice-O-Matic-
A duck serving dish-