I love old stuff


 

I love old historical stuff, in case you couldn’t tell.   It takes a special kind of person to WANT to read about the 1936 Constitution at 9 am on a Saturday morning.  Not only do I like reading about old stuff, I also like looking at it and buying it, because there’s always the idea that someone else OWNED this thing. Some human left their indelible mark on this teapot, this hat, this rusty saw, this gross raccoon fur, fifty to a hundred years ago, and just for a brief moment, you are connected to humanity through a chain.

A couple weeks ago, we went with my parents to look at old stuff.  Sorry, we’re classy now, so I guess I should call it antiques.  If you’re ever in the market for antiques in Central Pennsylvania, this is the place to be.  Just rows and rows and rows of stalls selling everything from magazines to art to bowl ware to Pennsylvania-specific items.

Stuff for coffee from the early 1900s?

My favorite: World War II progpaganda posters.  It’s always interesting to compare and contrast the U.S. propaganda with the Soviet propaganda because U.S. soldiers actually had something to fight for whereas the Soviet Union was like, “Fight or death squads, bro. LUL!

My mom: “This material was so hot in the 1970s.  I had my aunt sew me a dress out of it for high school.”  My parents’ trips to antique shops mostly involve finding items that were used 100 years ago in the U.S. (washing machines, irons you have to heat in the stove, etc) and remarking about how they used them up until rightabout 1984. Because Dat Soviet consumer good production.

I’m reading this one nonfiction book right now where the narrator recalls losing her hat in the 1930s in a train from Chicago and everyone around her feels sorry for her, because it was seen as inconceivable to travel without a hat back then. Bring that back.  Hats for everyone.

I mean EVERYONE. Also, that fur coat.

If you buy the statue and irreverently spraypaint it purple, congratulations, you now have a hipster house.

Here’s an example of childhood in the 1800s, before they had mommyblogs. Looks rough. I mean, trough.  No, really. That cradle looks just like a trough. That would result in hundreds of delightful lawsuits today.

World War 2 sheet music. The equivalent of today’s Soldier song?

Another candidate for spraypainting. Check out that sweet Switzerland flag in the back.  Switzerland: exists solely for my chocolate consumption needs. God bless you, Switzerland.

Wedding paraphanalia from the 1950s: the nascent wedding industrial complex going strong back then. Things are only marginally better today when husbands are not legally allowed to tell you to go into the kitchen and make then a sandwich.  Kind of a Havisham-y vibe with the cake toppers, amirite?

In case you ever need to go to New Jersey:

Old-timey racism.

I think I found the Bloggess’s next thing.

Ok, and now for stuff we actually bought.  Can you guess what it is?  Can you guess what vintage thing Mr. B and I love most than anything else?

No, not the typewriter. Mr. B says I’m not allowed to buy anything that will make me EVEN SLOWER at writing. Although there is no Facebook plugin with the typewriter, so it’s an interesting tradeoff.

These babies.  They are old, old, old. Probably from the 40s or 50s. One is from the 70s, we think. It’s fun guessing when they were made because of the countries. For example, one still has Congo-Kinshasa, Zaire, and Outer Mongolia. I love to look at these and imagine the world as it was. Part of an office decorating theme coming soon, or whenever I get around to it.