I’ve got an addiction – an addiction to dull, chipped, faded and otherwise just plain-old, worn-out hunks of junk.
Today marks the last day of the last week of the 2013 season for the Mecca of salvage dealers/hoarders/appreciators known the world over simply as Brimfield Flea – and thus my last opportunity to get dirty with the carnies. As an avid collector of antiquated designs and technologies myself, you best believe I made the trek.
Namely, this was done in order to update and expand my extensive western cowboy shirt collection. This included the score of the day: a rad 60’s-era red gingham with ornate yoke on the back (for ten bucks).
I also hoped to score a very specific type of container that was just mentioned in the post prior: a vinty glass jar emblazoned (I now hate that word) with it’s distinctly undulating banner, whose very markings proclaim it’s contents as being the mustard of choice on Sears Avenue.
After hours of scouring the acres upon acres of grounds that constitute the Brimfield Antiques Show and Flea Market I uncovered a few 75th Anniversary Planter’s peanuts jars, just about every soft drink bottle known to humankind and the almost-but-not-quite Gulden’s container. Although many could be considered somewhat relevant to this blog (Sprite and/or Slice vessels in particular), not a single vendor had what it was that I was really after: French’s mustard.
Instead of here documenting the jaw-dropping breadth of the show’s magnitude, the grotesquely life-sized Elvis and Bruce Lee statues or the slew of clouds-at-their-feet gidrul’, unable to perform the most basic of bipedal functions without bumping into one another, due to their “bargains-on-the-brain” mentality, I have settled on this simple snag below.
I will spare readers my laborious use of metaphor and just show this assortment of old valve handles. Papa would like stuff like this. Please feel free to draw your own conclusions.