the spirits like mid-century moderne

I am a third generation junker. My grandfather would go to church bazaars and buy up everything that was left over at the end. Boxes of bright red nail polish and dozens of short sleeved men’s shirts with those weird little diamond patterns. Today they would be sold on Valencia Street in a vintage store, but in 1966, we thought they were the squarest thing going.

One time he came home with two four-foot tall carved wooden African statues. We laughed about those things for years. After my father died two years ago and we were clearing out the house, I thought about those statues and how much they must be worth now. My cousin Robert still has them in his basement, and he said I could have them. Getting them out to California would be a challenge, but maybe the next time Antiques Road Show comes to town………

My girlfriend, on the other hand, is a first generation junker. She was teased by her family about going to flea markets and wearing “old clothes”. But she has a passion for junking that is hard to believe is not inherited. Imagine our delight at finding collectible ceramic candlesticks for 99 cents each.

In the past year, we have gone to Philly, my home town, twice. We discovered an antique store in the Italian Market area of South Philly, one block from the best cannoli in the world. The guy that owns it grew up “in the neighborhood” and sold fish out of that store for thirty years. Now he’s into “junque”. He talks loud and fast and loves a bargain.

Last week, when we were there, we found some pink Mikassa plates with a small peace sign on the bottom from the 60s. D loved them, and I teased her about being converted to my love for “mid-century”. She usually finds the straight lines of the mid-century moderne too cold and sterile compared to the lush, sensual décor of her house.

She bought the plates and I schlepped them home on the plane. The other day, I noticed two of them under plants on her altar. I screamed, “That’s not what those plates are for”, and she said it's OK, they could always be washed.

Last night we heard a crash, and one of the plants on a pink plate was on the floor. Today I told her that the spirits didn’t think the pink plates should be used for that either. She laughed. A little while ago, the other plant on a pink plate crashed to the floor as well. “I guess you’re right”, she said. “The spirits like those pink plates and don’t think they should be used for planters”. You know you’re right when the spirits throw their vote with yours.