Oodles and oodles

Olive the other stuff

I spent so much time making a pile of Christmas stuff at Saturday's estate sale that I didn't think there would be much else left in the house to interest me once I got to it. Actually, there was quite a lot more. In addition to this little clock, which keeps excellent time, I found some other whatnots.

Some miscellaneous vases, a set of Easter cookie cutters, a little spice rack and some aqua McCoy.

I had never seen the McCoy icicle planter - ever, anywhere. It's huge, as ceramic planters go, and I already know exactly where it's going (on my dresser) and how I'm going to use it (for an amazing Christmas tableau, complete with a bottle brush tree, little ornaments and possibly a number of snowmen.) I think it's my favorite McCoy ever.

Because the woman who lived in the house was a kindred spirit who clearly loved Christmas, she had a number of Christmas aprons ...

as well as some sweet cotton aprons that she had stitched up, pressed and tucked away, unused.

Among them were some smocked gingham aprons. The one on the right is unfinished. I'll figure out how to finish it. Someday. Smocked gingham reminds me of my great-grandmother, who was about my favorite person in the world.

I don't buy as many linens as I used to, but there were so many at this sale that the organizers were more than happy to have people make up their own box lots and name a price. So as long as I had a box lot of aprons going, I figured a guest towel couldn't hurt. Especially since it featured a parachuting kitty with the words 'Drop in any time.'

And since there was still a little room in my box, I added some handkerchiefs. There was pretty much every kind of handkerchief, from familiar florals and monogrammed hankies to bandanas and children's handkerchiefs, and holiday handkerchiefs, and delicate lace handkerchiefs.

Then I found a whole batch of tablecloths, so I started a second box lot. There was, naturally, a Christmas tablecloth, and a Christmas table runner. (I'm wondering if I am somehow related to the woman who lived in the house. We seem to share a lot of tendencies.) To this box lot I was able to add a nice stack of never-used kitchen towels.

The next photo is kind of special, because it represents a first for me. I don't know about you, but I find the category of collectibles featuring green olives particularly lacking. It's a shame, because I come from a long line of people who really, really love green olives. Members of my family eat them by the jar. The video of my brother's wedding ends with one of my cousins squealing with delight at the reception when she discovers a huge bowl of green olives. It's one of those things that could have been edited out but thankfully wasn't.

If that weren't enough, our family's cat was addicted to green olives. If my mother poured the juice from an empty olive jar down the drain (this happened pretty frequently in our house), we knew we would soon find the cat in the sink, sniffing for olives. If he slipped outside, all we had to do was take a jar of olives outside, and we could tempt him back. All of this is true.This is not the kind of thing people have any reason to make up.

At any rate, you can imagine my delight when I found not one but TWO olive-themed objects: one, a piece of Holt Howard Pixieware, and the other a tablecloth that features large wooden bowls of salad, iron trivets and olives.

Well, if all that Christmas stuff wasn't evidence enough, now I'm convinced: I have to be related somehow to the woman who lived in that house.

 

 

 

 

Wonderland

The phrase "lots of Christmas" in an estate sale listing can mean one of two things: lots of bad Christmas decorations (i.e., most things made after I was born), or lots of good Christmas decorations (things older than me.)

 Fortunately, the latter applied Saturday morning.

There were decorations I'd never seen before, like a three-piece band in its original "Merry Miracles" box.

Decorations I've seen and wanted but didn't have, like a pair of spun-head pinecone snowmen riding in silver cages.

There were milkglass Christmas bulbs.

And a Santa and reindeer set in its original box.

Oh, and there were ornaments, too.

American classics.

Handpainted ornaments from Poland.

Original boxes.

Odd and interesting colors.

Lovely stripes.

Beautiful indents.

Early favorites to take the "Best Panorama" award at the next AOVCOA&S ceremony.

And my most favorite spun-head creation ever: a penguin.

One apron for being close to home.

One apron for not spending too, too, too much.

One apron as a personal pat-on-the-back for not sleeping in when that's what I really wanted to do.

One apron for the person running the estate sale, who let us in 15 minutes early rather than making us stand outside in the rain.

One apron for a season's worth of Christmas ornaments (well, close) in one stop.

One apron for being home by 11 a.m.

One apron for a spun-head penguin.

And three aprons for all of the non-Christmas stuff yet to show you.

A ten-apron sale. But you kind of felt that coming, didn't you?

 

 

Today in feedsack, #3

Steel yourself for some feedsack greatness.

A border print, yes.

But not just any border print.

A border print that comes with its own fringe.

So that all a thrifty housewife would have to do is open up the feedsack and sew one seam at the top for curtains.

I have a pair of these, unopened, and I just basted each of them across the top so you could see them in place. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with them. I'm keeping them, yes. But I'm not sure if I'll use them. I don't think I could bear to remove that label. Or take out the stitching. But if I could get past those two hurdles, I could definitely live with them as curtains.

What would you do?

Underfoot

Too bad I spent so much money on feedsacks Saturday, because there was a lot of good stuff to buy. Those glasses on the end are Swanky Swigs - the only kind that aren't clear with designs. (And the only kind I don't have!)

Sigh.

And if I'd only had unlimited funds AND a truck ... think of the fun! I'm pretty sure I could have moved right into that house and been happy. That dining room table is spectacular.

Fortunately I had a little money left to get something I have always wanted: handwoven rag rugs. My great-grandmother had a loom in a little room off her kitchen, on which she'd weave rugs. People in her neighborhood would bring her fabric and outgrown clothes, and she'd transform them into rugs. Unfortunately, we loved the rugs so much we wore them out. And I've always wished I had some.

Like so much else in the house, the rugs weren't used and were in perfect condition.

So pretty and colorful. And I'm pretty sure there's a lot of feedsack in there. I can almost pick out some of the patterns.

One of them is made largely of old denim. 

I bought a bunch of them, but I can only keep a few. It's going to be very hard to choose.

 

 

NOS

If you've spent any time on eBay, you know what NOS means: new old stock. Old stuff that's never been used. Usually perfect and lovely. NOS makes my heart beat faster. Feedsacks make my heart beat faster. NOS feedsacks - well, I'm surprised I survived the experience.

None of the feedsacks I got Saturday had been used. Lots of them have their original paper labels. They were stored inside this little house, along with a ton of other stuff. The auction was on behalf of the people who bought the house, contents and all, and despaired of the idea they'd ever be able to sort it out themselves. No one seems to know why one of the previous occupants had so many feedsacks. (Or so many pillowcases - there were hundreds. Or dishtowels. Hundreds of them, too. It was kind of a hoarding situation, except the things that had been hoarded were beautiful and perfect. Not like any episode of "Hoarders" I've ever seen.)

I arrived in Ohio for the auction preview Friday afternoon. The auction was Saturday morning. The hotel where I stayed Friday night sent me a survey today. One of the questions was "How well did you sleep?" Since there was not an option for checking "I kept waking up because I was thinking about those feedsacks," I said I slept well. But I didn't.

Here are some of my favorites. Well, they're all my favorites, but here are some. For the most part, I was able to get more than one of each print ... in some cases five or six of each. They were not cheap. That's all I'm going to say on that subject.

Sometimes I love orange. Sometimes I don't. I love these.

I limited myself mostly to small prints and bright backgrounds, but I couldn't say no to lavender.

Aqua. There's no need to say more.

I love finding prints in different colorways. And this is just a great print already.

Another great print, and amazing color.

And a tiny nautical print.

Really tiny.

I didn't get much else at the auction, but I did get a few other things ... yes, there is a break from feedsacks in the near future! 

Going to extremes

Would you drive 500 miles (one way) to an auction?

Would you if you heard there were hundreds of feedsacks?

Some of the prettiest ones you've ever ever seen?

I would. And I did.

So I am back today from my new favorite place, northwest Ohio, with 77 of the best feedsacks ever. 

When holes in fabric are a good thing

This is a feedsack. If they all came looking like this, you wouldn't be wondering how to tell feedsack from other vintage fabric.

Know how often I find them like this? Almost never.

Sometimes I find them still sewn into a sack, but without the label, and that makes them pretty easy to identify, too.

But if all you've got is a piece of fabric - how do you know whether that's feedsack? There's only one way that I know of, which I learned from Sarah, who knows her way around a feedsack. And from anything I've read, it's about the only sure way to identify feedsack.

Feedsacks that are still sewn closed have stitching like this.

Here's how they look on the other side. When that heavy string is removed, it leaves telltale holes.

Which look like this. Which is how you tell whether fabric is feedsack.

Pretty easy, no?

 

Today in feedsack, #2

It's probably just as well I have only about a quarter of a sack of this print, because owning a whole sack of this much wonderfulness might be overwhelming. No wonder so little of it was left. Would you let this print go unused? I'm picturing little pajamas. Two-piece ones, with a shirt that buttoned. With red buttons. Or, obviously, a quilt.

(Part of a series of quick posts just for those of us obsessed with feedsack, created in hopes of documenting feedsack patterns. If you're new here: 1. Don't feel as if you have to comment. It's hard to say 'that's really pretty!' 100 times! But if you want to comment, I'd love to hear from you! 2. All of the fabrics I show here will be confirmed as feedsack - if I'm not sure, I won't show it here. I don't want to add to the confusion between feedsack and other vintage fabrics. 3. I don't want to use this as a sales tool. If you're wondering whether a piece is for sale, check my Etsy shop. In some cases, the pieces might be ones that have already sold or aren't for sale. 4. And finally - I plan to post new photos once or twice a week, until it seems like this series has run its course. 5. Thanks for visiting!)

Return of the Renwals

You might remember meeting the Renwal family here nearly three years ago. It's hard to forget these frightening plastic dollhouse figures. My mother's fairly enviable collection of Renwal includes just three people: the Scary Mom, Scary Dad and Scary Daughter. I saw them staring out at me from inside a plastic bag Friday morning, which is what initially caught my attention and led to the purchase of this dollhouse. Most of the items that came with the dollhouse were by other makers, but there was enough Renwal to make me happy. There was a Renwal baby buggy and two Renwal babies, who look remarkably cheerful given the family into which they were born. And given the fact that unlike the rest of the family, they are entirely unclothed.

Despite their unhappy expressions and terrible paint jobs, the figures are well made and can sit down and stand up. Clearly all of the time and effort went into making their complicated jointed knees, because the paint is just awful. Oddly, my newly acquired Renwal Dad has exactly the same paint job as my mother's Renwal Dad. It's as if someone instructed workers to dab a little blue paint on his nose and hairline.

My mom is going to be pretty jealous when she hears that I now have the Renwal Scary Son, because she doesn't. I'll have to find out if she had one and lost him, or if she never had one, and if so, whether she didn't want one, and whether that was because she might have had issues with her own brother. Sure, collecting dollhouse figures looks simple, but who knows what kind of family dynamics might be revealed? If the conversation gets too fraught, I'm just going to change the subject and mention that my Scary Daughter has a much worse paint job than her Scary Daughter.

Also, please notice that despite the fact they have a cute rocking chair and a very slick tricycle with moving pedals, both children look desperately unhappy. Kids these days. Or, actually, those days. They're never happy.

 

 

Today in feedsack, #1

I'm starting a series of quick posts just for those of us obsessed with feedsack. I'm hoping to document patterns for my own reference and maybe to help you identify fabrics that you have. This pink print is one of my favorites; I've also seen it in a light blue.

Here's what I'm thinking about this series:

1 - Don't feel as if you have to comment. (It's hard to say 'that's really pretty!' 100 times!) But if you want to comment, I'd love to hear from you.

2 - Feel free to skip all of these posts if you're not a fabric person.

3 - All of the fabrics I show here will be confirmed as feedsack - if I'm not sure, I won't show it here. I don't want to add to the confusion between feedsack and other vintage fabrics.

4 - I don't intend to use this as a sales tool. If you're wondering whether a piece is for sale, check my Etsy shop. In some cases, the pieces might be ones that have already sold. (As far as this pink print - I have only a few squares of it, and I sure wish I had more!)

5 - I'll do this once or twice a week until it seems like it has run its course. (Or, heaven forbid, I run out of feedsack patterns!)

Enjoy!