These posts on my impoverished past have led to a good deal of reflection. And, even though I can't remember anything that happened five minutes ago, I am remembering some details of my past.
First question: who IS a picker? I suppose it could be anyone who sells to someone else. The picking ends when an item reaches a final customer. Mr FS and I bought some antique quilts when we lived in Indiana, when quilts were all the rage. We met a lovely woman, Lois, who was a picker for other dealers. She was a small town woman with very little money, but an incredible feel for objects and a true sense of beauty.
She really liked us, so she would often give us first dibs on items she bought from someone's home in her small town of Spencer, Indiana. Once she offered us a quilt for $200. It had trapunto work, but was not particularly beautiful. Plus we had no money. So we declined.
A few weeks later, we visited some well-known quilt dealers at their home in Indianapolis. Rod Lich and Susan Parrott. Amazingly, they are still in business. I don't know why they put up with us, since we really had almost no money. While we were looking at their quilts, another dealer--from Texas--arrived. Rod and Susan showed her the trapunto quilt we had turned down. The Texas dealer bought it for $750! Rod and Susan assured her she could get $1200 for it in Texas.
Items, particularly antiques and collectibles, have no "value" other than what someone is willing to pay. And dealers sell things to other dealers. Up and up. And sometimes down.
This all made me remember a rather wonderful book I read when I lived in Indiana: The Rembrandt Panel. It was passed to me by my art-loving friend Charlotte. It concerned a picker who found a painting in a junk shop. He thought it was a Rembrandt and so brought it to an art dealer, who figured out that it indeed WAS a Rembrandt. Unfortunately (and I'm really not ruining anything since this happens early on), both these characters are killed by the bad guy. Charlotte wondered how the author could kill off such a great set of characters, especially the art dealer. After that, the plot devolved into silliness. The author--an art historian--wrote another book (not as good), and died shortly thereafter.
Now, a foray into film. I really liked the movie Please Give. The main character, played by Catherine Keener, owns a shop that wells mid-century modern furniture that she buys from estates. She feels guilty about how little she pays for things. One funny moment comes when she passes a high-end shop and sees a table the owner bought from HER shop--only he is selling it for much more than he paid, just as she did.
Issues of value, issues of knowledge, so many issues!
I am kind of relieved that I'm not interested in "collecting" things anymore.
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Thursday, May 22, 2014
Wednesday, May 21, 2014
What to do if you don't want a picker to resell your donation?
This is in response to Duchesse's comment on the post about my past life as a picker. She has seen her chic donations to charity end up in boutique windows. That is a tribute to her fab taste, but also....errrrr...annoying.
I won't get into the ethics of reselling (except I do talk about it below--oops). I did read something on the issue that pointed out that charity shops were in business to make money for their charity, not to provide cheap goods for the needy (though this is a by-product). Also--trust me--if people didn't buy for resale, the charity shops wouldn't make much money. Seriously, most of the people I see are resellers. In the USA and perhaps Canada today, many of the needy have too much clothing--just like the rest of us.
There are reselling practices that I find unethical. Example: my area Friends of the Library has a huge book sale every month. A book reseller is now in charge of the sale. THAT is unethical. The reason it's unethical is because he LOWERED all the book prices (to a dollar for hb and 50 cents for pb) and now has first dibs on everything. I used to see him with his price scanner at Goodwill all the time. Now I suppose he just works his book sale. I spoke to the former prez of the organization on this : he said "It's ok because he puts a lot of hours in." I replied, "He's not donating his time. He's being compensated." Whatever. Now he can scan the donations.
Another example: the former manager of an area thrift store (who was not very alert due to health issues) had daughters who sold on Ebay. You could see the daughters take things directly from the donation area to their cars--without even paying a paltry thrift store price! That's even worse than the above example.
But what can YOU do with your chic donations if you want them to go to a needy person who would be thrilled to get them? Sadly, not much. Pickers are EVERYWHERE (perhaps I'll do another post on this). I would suggest donating directly to orgs like "Dress for Success" if you have interview-worthy items.
OR take the item to a consignment store yourself. Then donate the cash proceeds to a charity of your choice.
OR find a bunch of worthy recipients. One of Frugal Son's friends--a grad student-- wanted cashmere sweaters for the cold winter. I gave her some of my overstock.
Any other ideas?
I won't get into the ethics of reselling (except I do talk about it below--oops). I did read something on the issue that pointed out that charity shops were in business to make money for their charity, not to provide cheap goods for the needy (though this is a by-product). Also--trust me--if people didn't buy for resale, the charity shops wouldn't make much money. Seriously, most of the people I see are resellers. In the USA and perhaps Canada today, many of the needy have too much clothing--just like the rest of us.
There are reselling practices that I find unethical. Example: my area Friends of the Library has a huge book sale every month. A book reseller is now in charge of the sale. THAT is unethical. The reason it's unethical is because he LOWERED all the book prices (to a dollar for hb and 50 cents for pb) and now has first dibs on everything. I used to see him with his price scanner at Goodwill all the time. Now I suppose he just works his book sale. I spoke to the former prez of the organization on this : he said "It's ok because he puts a lot of hours in." I replied, "He's not donating his time. He's being compensated." Whatever. Now he can scan the donations.
Another example: the former manager of an area thrift store (who was not very alert due to health issues) had daughters who sold on Ebay. You could see the daughters take things directly from the donation area to their cars--without even paying a paltry thrift store price! That's even worse than the above example.
But what can YOU do with your chic donations if you want them to go to a needy person who would be thrilled to get them? Sadly, not much. Pickers are EVERYWHERE (perhaps I'll do another post on this). I would suggest donating directly to orgs like "Dress for Success" if you have interview-worthy items.
OR take the item to a consignment store yourself. Then donate the cash proceeds to a charity of your choice.
OR find a bunch of worthy recipients. One of Frugal Son's friends--a grad student-- wanted cashmere sweaters for the cold winter. I gave her some of my overstock.
Any other ideas?
Tuesday, May 20, 2014
True Confessions: I Was a Picker
PICKER: An earlybird who hunt swap meets, estate sales, thrift stores, etc and scoops up the good deals - often for resale in antique shops or on ebay. (Urban Dictionary)
Recently, a commenter on my blog asked if I noticed pickers in my area thrift stores. The answer is YES. In fact, I have seen pickers in every thrift store I have ever been lucky enough to enter. And, as a further in fact, I myself was a picker (and may still be one, though I try to resist.) Based on my expert observations, I would say that at least 75% of the people you see at thrifts and the like are pickers. No kidding.
Perhaps this will be the start of a series of posts. I find the phenomenon interesting, because you see people who live--sometimes very well--by their wits. I find that admirable, even though they often get stuff I covet.
Let me start with a trip to my impoverished grad school past. Because of funding issues, my program cut the years one could have a TA (a form of indentured servitude imo). Opportunities for employment in college towns are extremely limited.
One day, my French friend Michelle had a yard sale on my well-situated porch. She was preparing to move to the former Yugoslavia with her fiance Mauricio (sadly the marriage failed). She sold Mauricio's Tito-era wool overcoat for a dollar to a nice young woman.
A few days later, I was lamenting my incipient unemployment to a woman I knew. She said, "Since you go to thrift stores anyway, why don't you buy things to consign at the Eye of Osiris." So the next week I bought a vintage jacket for a quarter at the giant yard sale held in graduate student housing. That was my first investment.
I took it to the Eye of Osiris. There was the woman who bought the coat! She remembered me. I asked her if she had sold the coat and she said yes. It had sold for $25.00! Then I showed her my jacket. She liked and said she would buy it on the spot. She gave me $12.00.
So I went back to the thrift store and discovered that I was good at finding things, which has been both a blessing and a curse. I ended up working one day a week at the Eye of Osiris and made many dear friends and enjoyed working with the eccentric customers who frequented the place. It was probably too much fun because I became a terrible procrastinator on my dissertation. The original owner Pat sold the store to Nora, who turned it from a vintage store to a head shop. But by then, I was pretty much done.
I got a teaching job.
Recently, a commenter on my blog asked if I noticed pickers in my area thrift stores. The answer is YES. In fact, I have seen pickers in every thrift store I have ever been lucky enough to enter. And, as a further in fact, I myself was a picker (and may still be one, though I try to resist.) Based on my expert observations, I would say that at least 75% of the people you see at thrifts and the like are pickers. No kidding.
Perhaps this will be the start of a series of posts. I find the phenomenon interesting, because you see people who live--sometimes very well--by their wits. I find that admirable, even though they often get stuff I covet.
Let me start with a trip to my impoverished grad school past. Because of funding issues, my program cut the years one could have a TA (a form of indentured servitude imo). Opportunities for employment in college towns are extremely limited.
One day, my French friend Michelle had a yard sale on my well-situated porch. She was preparing to move to the former Yugoslavia with her fiance Mauricio (sadly the marriage failed). She sold Mauricio's Tito-era wool overcoat for a dollar to a nice young woman.
A few days later, I was lamenting my incipient unemployment to a woman I knew. She said, "Since you go to thrift stores anyway, why don't you buy things to consign at the Eye of Osiris." So the next week I bought a vintage jacket for a quarter at the giant yard sale held in graduate student housing. That was my first investment.
I took it to the Eye of Osiris. There was the woman who bought the coat! She remembered me. I asked her if she had sold the coat and she said yes. It had sold for $25.00! Then I showed her my jacket. She liked and said she would buy it on the spot. She gave me $12.00.
So I went back to the thrift store and discovered that I was good at finding things, which has been both a blessing and a curse. I ended up working one day a week at the Eye of Osiris and made many dear friends and enjoyed working with the eccentric customers who frequented the place. It was probably too much fun because I became a terrible procrastinator on my dissertation. The original owner Pat sold the store to Nora, who turned it from a vintage store to a head shop. But by then, I was pretty much done.
I got a teaching job.
Monday, May 19, 2014
Non-Financial Accounting: Time Regained
I am beginning to recover from the end of the semester. I like every part of my job except grading. The worst part is assigning grades. I have a headache from the start of finals week till grade turn-in. Even after, since I get numerous sad and/or mad emails from students--only two so far, but the numbers may grow.
I am close to achieving a life goal: to read all volumes of Proust's "A La Recherche." I am on the last volume--"Time Regained"--and have 432 pages to go. It is a difficult read for me. My reading style (fast) does not coordinate well with Proust's complex sentences. Sometimes I can read only a handful of pages before stopping. Can I read 432 pages in two weeks, when I will go on vacation? I hope so.
The thing about reading Proust is that you forget what you've read almost as soon as you read it. My in-house expert, Mr FS, says that is to be expected. I asked him what to do when I've finished. He said "Start again." He's been doing that for over forty years.
Is anyone else reading a long and difficult masterpiece? I have many more on my list. Time is running out.
I am close to achieving a life goal: to read all volumes of Proust's "A La Recherche." I am on the last volume--"Time Regained"--and have 432 pages to go. It is a difficult read for me. My reading style (fast) does not coordinate well with Proust's complex sentences. Sometimes I can read only a handful of pages before stopping. Can I read 432 pages in two weeks, when I will go on vacation? I hope so.
The thing about reading Proust is that you forget what you've read almost as soon as you read it. My in-house expert, Mr FS, says that is to be expected. I asked him what to do when I've finished. He said "Start again." He's been doing that for over forty years.
Is anyone else reading a long and difficult masterpiece? I have many more on my list. Time is running out.
Sunday, May 18, 2014
Frugal Duolingo: Progress Report
Like many, I spend too much time noodling around on the internet. Since noodlers are the product being delivered to advertisers (via blog links and those tempting ads that track your habits), I occasionally succumb to the "good deals" that pop up. I am a weakling for bargains, even if my spending remains in control. I waste a lot of time and add to the clutter with which I always struggle.
I have been trying to shift my noodling from Nordstroms to Duolingo. I am not always successful, but I am wasting a lot less time. After my initial rush of success, my progress is slowing down. I have trouble with some negatives and some adverbs. And, unlike my French teachers M. Giordano and M. Moore (how I wish I could thank them), Duolingo does not give partial credit. How awful to hear the buzz of failure for a careless error--like saying "the" instead of "that"--in a lesson on adverbs, even when you get the adverb right. I never thought I would miss the mere quarter point deducted by my red-pen-wielding French teachers for each tiny mistake.
Duolingo rewards you with virtual currency of lingots. So far, I have not spent any, not because I am a natural saver (though I am), but because I am not really motivated by the gamification of the site. I am, however, motivated by the percentage that pops up: according to the site, I can now read 45.7% of French articles. I can actually read more, because my French goes beyond the lessons I've completed.
I have spent more than thirty years lamenting the deterioration--the near demise, probably--of my French. Last year, Miss Em said "How much French did you have?" I answered "Four years."
I should say that this was four years of the excellent New York State Regents program. My high school French enabled me to pass out of French via placement exam not only in college, but in graduate school. If I hadn't left high school after my third year and had taken French my senior year, I would have read Madame Bovary along with my class.
The wise Miss Em said "Then it will take you four years to get it back." It's looking like it will take me a lot less than that.
The French has become more of a struggle ("une lutte"--wow! popped right into my head!). I was doing a lesson in my office and a colleague dropped by. When I told him what I was doing (and this fellow is a trained linguist), he said "Why do you want to do that?"
But I do; I do.
Frugality Index: many lingots stashed away PLUS less money spent on the "bargains" that bombard us on the internet.
Saturday, May 17, 2014
Who Shops at Big Lots: Me and Philip Starck
As a break from grading exams (soon to be done!), I accompanied Mr FS when he went to the drugstore to pick up a prescription. I had him drop me off at Big Lots, which had sent me a coveted $5 off $15 coupon. The prices are cheap enough as is (at least on some things: know your prices) but at a further discount! A thrilling experience for a frugal type like myself,
With my coupon, I got some graham crackers, lots of canned diced tomatoes, an Ahh Bra. Two more exciting things: I got some Mario Batali pasta, the exact same kind as is sold at Eataly, only at Big Lots it was $1 instead of $3.20. Mr FS got a dvd of Mean Streets, one of his fave films. Total spent: around $11.
OK. That was about as much excitement as I can take. However, when I got home, I did an internet search for something about Big Lots and came upon an LA Times article from 2008, the depths of the Great Recession, when frugality was all the rage. the only thing I miss about the Great Recession: all the frugality articles that fed my frugal soul. This particular article featured the great designer Philip Starck as he filled a basket at Big Lots. Maybe I can buy one of his famous Ghost chairs if I keep shopping at Big Lots. Love those chairs.
My favorite part of the article consisted of this pithy saying, with timeless wisdom that goes beyond the panic of the economic downturn: "We have been sticking our money into the fan," he says, miming a stack of bills being shredded by the blades of a ceiling fan. "We must be more intelligent now."
With my coupon, I got some graham crackers, lots of canned diced tomatoes, an Ahh Bra. Two more exciting things: I got some Mario Batali pasta, the exact same kind as is sold at Eataly, only at Big Lots it was $1 instead of $3.20. Mr FS got a dvd of Mean Streets, one of his fave films. Total spent: around $11.
OK. That was about as much excitement as I can take. However, when I got home, I did an internet search for something about Big Lots and came upon an LA Times article from 2008, the depths of the Great Recession, when frugality was all the rage. the only thing I miss about the Great Recession: all the frugality articles that fed my frugal soul. This particular article featured the great designer Philip Starck as he filled a basket at Big Lots. Maybe I can buy one of his famous Ghost chairs if I keep shopping at Big Lots. Love those chairs.
My favorite part of the article consisted of this pithy saying, with timeless wisdom that goes beyond the panic of the economic downturn: "We have been sticking our money into the fan," he says, miming a stack of bills being shredded by the blades of a ceiling fan. "We must be more intelligent now."
Friday, May 16, 2014
Thrift Store Fun, Thrift Store Folly
Unlike many of the financial "experts" in the blogosphere, who counsel us to "make more money" (as they did, by selling their blogs for several million dollars), I am a big believer in saving dollars here and dollars there. The financial bloggers, many of whom have retired on the proceeds of their blogs, also counsel us to "negotiate for more money." Hear that legislators???? My pennies and dollars are all that remain in my control.
Hence my killer grocery shopping skills and my thrift store acumen. Perhaps I was karmically sent to my town because we have--no question--about the best and cheapest thrift stores I have encountered. Plus, in a small town, you see the same people every time you go to a thrift, so one has some social interaction.
Today, when I got home from administering my last final, I was completely exhausted from sucking up all the panic and misery of my students. I HAD to go to a thrift store for the spa experience. A trip to Goodwill--about 3 miles--was too much, so I contented myself with the little Food Bank thrift, which is about 1/2 mile away.
Well! Paul, the former manager of the thrift shop, who has since been promoted to an administrative position at the food bank, was at the register and boy was he crabby. You see, the people working at the thrift have been running 1/2 price sales and playing "let's make a deal" for a few weeks. They also missed a Dooney and Bourke bag and put it in the $1 bin. Paul saw that. (No, I was not the lucky buyer.) He told me that REVENUE WAS DOWN. WAY DOWN.
EVERY SINGLE customer whined about the renewal of full prices (i.e. $2.50 for most clothing). EVERY SINGLE customer asked Paul to lower the prices. I was too scared to ask him! I did point out that prices had to be low at thrifts because people made a lot of mistakes in purchasing. Some items have damage that one doesn't see till one gets home. ETCETERA. He finds me rather amusing, so I did cheer him up a tiny bit.
Anyway, I bought some beautiful fabric samples. Don't ask me why. I can't sew. I do have a love for fabric and seeing gorgeous linen blend fabrics--some toiles, many printed in England-- just wiped me out. I could not resist. I'm hoping the creative Miss Em will help me figure out what to do with them. Some of the pieces are pretty big, 18" by 45," though most are smaller.
The one useful thing I got was a little cuisinart mini-prep processor. I have one, but I got it for Frugal Son, a fabulous cook. I even plugged it in to see if it worked.
When I got home, Mr FS sighed about the fabric. He took one look at the mini-prep and said, "There's no blade." OOPS. I, the usually careful shopper, had just wasted a few dollars on a defective item. Just as I had told Paul. If he's not too crabby, I'm going to tell him next time I see him.
Still, I helped support the food bank.
Hence my killer grocery shopping skills and my thrift store acumen. Perhaps I was karmically sent to my town because we have--no question--about the best and cheapest thrift stores I have encountered. Plus, in a small town, you see the same people every time you go to a thrift, so one has some social interaction.
Today, when I got home from administering my last final, I was completely exhausted from sucking up all the panic and misery of my students. I HAD to go to a thrift store for the spa experience. A trip to Goodwill--about 3 miles--was too much, so I contented myself with the little Food Bank thrift, which is about 1/2 mile away.
Well! Paul, the former manager of the thrift shop, who has since been promoted to an administrative position at the food bank, was at the register and boy was he crabby. You see, the people working at the thrift have been running 1/2 price sales and playing "let's make a deal" for a few weeks. They also missed a Dooney and Bourke bag and put it in the $1 bin. Paul saw that. (No, I was not the lucky buyer.) He told me that REVENUE WAS DOWN. WAY DOWN.
EVERY SINGLE customer whined about the renewal of full prices (i.e. $2.50 for most clothing). EVERY SINGLE customer asked Paul to lower the prices. I was too scared to ask him! I did point out that prices had to be low at thrifts because people made a lot of mistakes in purchasing. Some items have damage that one doesn't see till one gets home. ETCETERA. He finds me rather amusing, so I did cheer him up a tiny bit.
Anyway, I bought some beautiful fabric samples. Don't ask me why. I can't sew. I do have a love for fabric and seeing gorgeous linen blend fabrics--some toiles, many printed in England-- just wiped me out. I could not resist. I'm hoping the creative Miss Em will help me figure out what to do with them. Some of the pieces are pretty big, 18" by 45," though most are smaller.
The one useful thing I got was a little cuisinart mini-prep processor. I have one, but I got it for Frugal Son, a fabulous cook. I even plugged it in to see if it worked.
When I got home, Mr FS sighed about the fabric. He took one look at the mini-prep and said, "There's no blade." OOPS. I, the usually careful shopper, had just wasted a few dollars on a defective item. Just as I had told Paul. If he's not too crabby, I'm going to tell him next time I see him.
Still, I helped support the food bank.
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