For some people the swap meet is part of their weekly
routine, but for others it’s as foreign as a trip to the moon. Some people recoil
from used clothing and knickknacks, repulsed by potential germs. They’d rather
roll around at the dump in ant-covered rotting banana peels than go to a thrift
store or garage sale. And then there are those of us who love the treasure hunt
of thrifting. Which type are you?
If you’re horrified by the idea of buying (or even touching)
other people’s things, you may feel that the topic doesn’t appeal to you and
that you should stop reading this post before you feel queasy. That’s okay. But
I encourage you to keep reading—just another paragraph or two—just to see if
there’s something intriguing about the meet that you don’t know about yet. I’m
biased, of course, because I like thrifting, and I say to those who haven’t
tried it: you’re missing out.
Thrift stores and garage sales and swap meets have something
in common, of course, but they are also different from each other and each
deserves its own blog post. So for now, I’ll focus on the swap meet, and if
you’ll remind me sometime soon, I’ll share thoughts on its cousins: thrift
stores and garage sales.
Today I wandered through my local swap meet--quite by
accident. I had an errand to do across the street from the meet and because I
finished early, I decided to head over. It had been over a year since my last
swap meet visit. The last time I’d been was a day I was selling things with a
friend. It was the first time either of us had sold at the swap meet and it was
a mixed experience. I sold very little and was disappointed, but my friend made
some money. She’d been back since to sell but I hadn’t. But today was a good
opportunity to pop into the meet to see if I could find some unusual,
mismatched buttons for an upcoming art project. No dice on the buttons but I
found some other small items for FAPs (Future Art Projects) so it was time well
spent.
For someone like me, who loves a good back story and has
tons of questions about people, places and events, the swap meet is a gold
mine. It’s completely different from shopping at a chain store. You’ll find me
in chain stores each week, so I’m not condemning them, but today’s topic is the
magic of the meet, so right now I’m focused on its charms.
The items found at a swap meet are as varied and individual
as the vendors themselves. I love the unpredictability of what you’ll find at
the meet, even within one stall. The selection is incongruous: shoes might be
cuddled up to plastic toys, vintage bake ware, fishing gear, 1970s neck ties,
potted plants and cologne. If you need VHS tapes of every Friends episode made, I suggest you race down to the Sports Arena
before someone else grabs them. It’s chotchke and gewgaw heaven.
Today I bought items at two stalls and spoke to several
vendors. I asked whether today was busier than usual with Christmas drawing
nearer. I was curious about whether the vendors sell here weekly, this being
part of their regular gig. One man said he wasn’t a regular seller, but that he
needed to sell stuff before moving out of the area. Another vendor had things
organized by price, and I got the impression that he does this regularly and
has a detailed system. The wannabe Lois Lane in me had too many questions to
ask casually while sifting through old jewelry. I didn’t think I should fire
question after question at the vendors, but with each answer more questions were
born. I wondered how time-consuming it was to collect the items they planned to
sell. Did they go to garage sales and thrift stores six days a week in order to
have enough inventory for one day of selling? Was selling their main gig,
something that covered their bills? Or was selling on weekends a supplement to
the jobs they held during the week? Was it a pain in the neck to haul a van
full of stuff at six a.m., unload it, spend all day hoping people would buy
things, deal with lowball offers, watch for thieves, and then pack it all up
that afternoon, drive it home, and flop down, exhausted, hoping the wad of cash
earned would cover the gas it took to drive to the meet? Or at least cover food
this week? It takes so much effort to transform an empty parking lot into a
temporary mall for a few hours. I wondered if the vendors hated the repetitious
nature of set up and break down. Or did they feel that this beats a tedious
desk job, any day? Did they like working outdoors, watching the variety of
people who come to the meet? Did they befriend other regular vendors or was
there fierce competition for business? Do they resent that people often haggle
about price at a swap meet, or do they figure it’s all still worth it, because
the vendors are their own bosses and they name the price? Which personality
types are drawn to selling? How long have they been selling here?
One vendor (the guy about to move) looked weathered, his
face proof that he’d worked outdoors for decades. But he smiled and seemed glad
that someone was talking to him beyond grunting, “How much?” The guy with the
impeccably organized stall looked bored. The sweet grandma-type who claimed she
was just cleaning out her house played hardball with prices. The vendors
fascinated me. How about a reality show about the colorful characters who are
swap meet vendors?
If you haven’t dipped your toe into swap meet shopping, let
me give you a small sample of what you might find there: mugs, electronics,
1980s telephones, Christmas decorations, detergent, socks, smart phone cases,
potted trees, fresh produce, dream catchers, a nearly life sized Barbie head
for hair styling (which I remember as a hot toy in the 1980s), size 15 rubber
boots, vinyl records, brass belt buckles, old tee shirts, new pants, a sequined
party dress, vintage sewing machines, a needlepoint pig (part of a larger
collection of pigs of various materials and sizes), skate boards, shoe laces,
new shoes and old jewelry. Such an eclectic mix. If anthropologists of the future
study the people of 2015 they will conclude that we like stuff, we have a lot
of stuff, and the moment we drop a bag of stuff we don’t need at Goodwill, we
immediately go to swap meets to get even less
essential new old stuff. Future
anthropologists will conclude this: humans in the twenty-first century
exhibited classic hunter-gatherer tendencies. They may have a point.
Sociologists may want to station themselves at swap meets to analyze social
behaviors and interactions. You like people-watching? Go to a swap meet.
Is there really any harm in bringing home a couple of
things? Exhibit A: my house is full of things I use and don’t use, and even as
I resolve to donate a lot of it to my local thrift store, I still bring home more
stuff on a daily basis. Is it the gatherer in me? Do I want to be prepared? Is
it the mom in me, who wants to have on hand whatever the kids might need? Is it
the artist in me, who likes assembling strange combinations of things and
turning it into art? (D) All of the above?
Today’s unplanned visit to the meet planted lots of
questions in my mind. Perhaps I’ll formally interview some vendors at some
point, in exchange for lunch. I’m fascinated by the vendors, and I want
answers!
Now I ask those of you who consider yourselves swap meet
avoiders, has today’s post about the swap meet changed your mind in any way? Or
has it confirmed your suspicions that going to a swap meet is even worse than
going to the DMV? I still think you should try it at least once, just to see.
If you do go, bring one dollar bills and take your multi vitamins first. You’ll
need energy because there may be some intense haggling over price. And if it
comes down to it, I might have to arm wrestle you for those Friends VHS tapes…
