Sorry. I'm one of those geeks who use the word "antique" as a verb. It also peeves me that spellcheck still does not consider "journaling" a legit word, nor does it consider "coachings" in the plural to be legit. Those of us who journal and go antiquing, and also those of us who give coachings to performing artists, demand that these words be recognized as part of our modern vocabulary!
That said, on to the subject at hand. I've seen that many of my fellow bloggers have made use of the "blogging from a to z" thing, though it isn't a new concept by any means. I'm sure essayists of old, those who regularly churned out erudite, amusing (and disgustingly well written) prose pieces for some local paper or broadsheet, made use of the alphabet to come up with topics. More recently (if you consider the mid-twentieth century to be recent -- it's all relative, after all), Rose Macauley produced a volume of "alphabetical essays" called Personal Pleasures. So here am I, following suit. I may poop out after a few letters, but I'll give it a shot, anyway.
The great thing about antiquing is that you can window shop, not spend a dime, and learn a great deal in the process. Not all forms of window shopping can boast as much. I love going to antique shops just to examine the furniture and objets d'arts, noting the characteristics of various styles and periods, learning to recognize at a glance a piece of Steuben glass or an Erté bronze. I may not be adding to my home decor (like I can afford Steuben and Erté!), but I'm feeding my brain and cultivating a very highbrow taste, à la Niles Crane.
Though I have on occasion picked up a book or two in an antique shop, such a place is really not the book collector's haven. The few books you see are usually over-priced, sometimes ridiculously so; but every once in a while I find something worth having that's reasonably priced. Most of the books, however, are sold purely for their looks -- those with gilt-tooled leather bindings, for instance. There are even dealers who sell such beautiful volumes by the foot to people who merely want to dress their shelves. Ugh. The day I use books solely as decorative objects is the day you may shoot me, please.
I do get into specific collecting phases, and this is where I can do serious damage to my pocketbook. Back in the early '90s, I had a thing for Bakelite. Okay, I'm not going into a long-winded spiel on what Bakelite is; that's what Google is for. Suffice it to say, it's an early plastic. I fell in love with Bakelite jewelry, its glossy, bright colors and whimsical designs. At that time, however, the Bakelite craze was just reaching an all-time high, so all I could really afford were the simplest bangle bracelets and pins. A blessing, really, knowing me.
Then it was art glass, even more costly than Bakelite jewelry. I had to resign myself to purchasing a few pieces of Westmore and just gawk at the four-figure-priced cameo glass vases and satin glass bowls. Not to mention the Steuben.
So I decided to stick to things I could actually use on a daily basis, like pens and manual typewriters. And I once came across a whole stash of vintage stationery in various designs, much of which has since gone out to friends, as I still write real letters and post them via snail-mail. (I don't lick the envelopes, though; I use water. I don't know, the idea of wiping my tongue on 70-year-old glue is just a bit off-putting.)
My sisters and I love to go antiquing. It really is an activity to be enjoyed in the company of like-minded geeks. We hit a couple of malls or a few smaller shops, then do lunch. Lately, though, gas prices have temporarily curtailed our outings, so I content myself with watching Antiques Roadshow -- that is, when Dancing with the Stars isn't on. Ooh! There's my "D" topic!
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