Can I pass it all up?
I used to collect Enid Collins purses. Well, I began a collection of Enid Collins purses, got to a total of three and then left them behind when I moved out of an apartment years ago. I thought they were sort of ugly but I liked how they reminded me of my childhood because all my Grandmother's friends had them as did the older women in the neighborhood and at church. I remember being in a doctor's waiting room before I started school, All My Children was playing on an old black and white TV set in the lobby. I vividly recall looking around seeing some sparkly Enid Collins purses sitting obediently on the floor next to their owners. Of course I didn't know they were Enid Collins designer purses at the time, just that sparkly purse I loved to see. They really called my attention when I was a kid because of how colorful, sparkly and toy like they were.
They were best on a shelf, at least in my possession they were. Using them resulted in a broken sequin or scuffed bead. I realized at the time I was moving that owning them brought me no more or less happiness than the memory of them. So I left them behind. I didn't regret it, didn't miss them. I would have taken them but I ran out of boxes so I placed them in the laundry room of the building with a sign saying, "Free Vintage Stuff". I put everything I didn't want there and came back a few hours later to find everything was gone.
It's hard to keep from buying those things that remind me of my childhood but I'm doing pretty good. My friend and I are going to a mega estate sale in the hood this weekend. I am going to look, browse, check it out. I'm not even bringing cash. I really like checking out those old ranch homes with their long, dark hallways and pink bathrooms. I'm really going to check out the house.
Being a recovering vintageholic, I am hoping that I'll be able to view all these estate sale items in detail and then put them down. I am going to hold them, covet them but walk out of the house empty handed. If I can do this and feel good, I know I've recovered. I have already previewed the sale and it's going to be tough. I don't know, I may have to read Baudrillard's, The System of Objects again.
They were best on a shelf, at least in my possession they were. Using them resulted in a broken sequin or scuffed bead. I realized at the time I was moving that owning them brought me no more or less happiness than the memory of them. So I left them behind. I didn't regret it, didn't miss them. I would have taken them but I ran out of boxes so I placed them in the laundry room of the building with a sign saying, "Free Vintage Stuff". I put everything I didn't want there and came back a few hours later to find everything was gone.
It's hard to keep from buying those things that remind me of my childhood but I'm doing pretty good. My friend and I are going to a mega estate sale in the hood this weekend. I am going to look, browse, check it out. I'm not even bringing cash. I really like checking out those old ranch homes with their long, dark hallways and pink bathrooms. I'm really going to check out the house.
Being a recovering vintageholic, I am hoping that I'll be able to view all these estate sale items in detail and then put them down. I am going to hold them, covet them but walk out of the house empty handed. If I can do this and feel good, I know I've recovered. I have already previewed the sale and it's going to be tough. I don't know, I may have to read Baudrillard's, The System of Objects again.
Labels: minutiae
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