The Mother of All Estate Sales

Growing up, I was obsessed with pirates and buried treasure, Pippi Longstocking, Peter Pan, and The Goonies were no doubt my roll models, and I'm sure my jewelry collecting mother had a lot to do with it as well. At 26, that pesky obsession has never really disappeared, it has simply taken on a different form. I now deal in vintage goods and jewelry in my shop and striking "gold" has a different meaning. My cousin will concur that many people give us strange looks for our unusual picks we define as treasure. Last weekend we happened upon the mother of all estate sales, the kind that come around every few years that are unbelievable. These people saved everything! 17 rooms chock full of "treasure"! My cousin and I shook with excitement and I began filling our arms with amazing bits of bric-a-brac that either we "had" to have or stuff that we knew others would take into their own collections. It was like something out of a dream, and no joke, I dream about estate sales-probably latent memories of all of the ones that my mom took me to as a toddler. All in all, I obtained a Polaroid camera with film still in box, a bag of antique baseballs, a piece of Victorian mourning jewelry, a fire popcorn popper, a clear dome umbrella, a plaid umbrella, a 1958 home design magazine, 7 vintage books, a Bakelite cake cutter, a Vietnam War ammo pouch, stackable German drinking glasses, a wind-up Pac-Man toy, and the "gold" a bag of vintage Halloween masks including original C-3PO and Chewbacca masks from 1977. One man's trash is this girl's treasure.