11 Vintage Things I Bought At Brimfield
Budget shmudget.
Thrifting day trip alert! Ie: a note to all my Brimfield friends—I’m seriously considering chartering a sexy sprinter van for the September Brimfield show, offering limited ticketed seats and some space to bring your RAD goodies back to the NYC/Brooklyn area. If you’re down for something like this, drop a comment below. I’m gathering intel about how it might shake out, what would make it extra ATA special, and whether or not we will need some fancy skincare/beauty/snacking/drinking things along for the ride with us (how about a Tarot reader, yes???)…the world is our oyster!
Today’s edition of A Tiny Apt. is not simply about finding marvelous, breath-taking, collectible things last week at the first few opening days of Brimfield (aka: The Most Magical Place On Earth). But it’s also a LOVE STORY. About me and a painting from 1975 that I saw within 30 minutes of parking our car. And also about not totally HATING myself for blowing the budget I’d responsibly laid out for myself the evening before (you will know what I mean when you see this painting).
I got other things at Brimfield—10 other GREAT things, including the perfect navy-blue sweatshirt with an even more perfect 40-year-old rip at the neckline…a natural distress mark vintage lovers like us LIVE FOR, the kind that would make Margiela himself weep. But man…this PAINTING. It had me at Hello. It was large and in charge and it was absolutely not going to let me exit Brimfield without arm wrestling me to the muddy ground. Perhaps the craziest thing of all is that despite Brimfield being my version of an annual spa trip, complete with sunburn and truck tacos, I wasn’t even planning on going at all last week. In the face of all the remaining expenses we have to finish at the (tiny) cottage we’re building upstate (those bills aren’t going to pay for themselves👹), I couldn’t exactly justify shopping…even if it was for a good cause (ME). But when my friend Kris told me she and her friend Katie were going and there was room in her car for me to tag along, I mean…
What could I do?
Well, I did what any prudent person would do who feels a genuine spiritual connection to “America’s oldest outdoor flea market,” and I established a $500 max budget to spend over two days. That seemed reasonable with just enough runway for a sensationally weird piece of Italian pottery or maybe a perfect vintage silk dress. And yet…what’s that saying about best laid plans or God laughing? I knew as soon as I saw it (THE painting) and then went back to see it again…and a third time (at the risk of really irritating the seller), and one final time before returning home…that my budget was a goner.
Burnt. Toast.
But here’s the thing about buying things that do not jive with your budget…and it may seem trite, but…YOLO. The cost of regretting never seeing it again vs. what it cost to actually buy it seemed, in the moment, incomparable. Maybe that’s horseshit, but you know what every good accountant never says: The heart wants what the heart wants…
Since the opening of May Brimfield always feels like the unofficial start of summer tag sale season, I also feel like this edition of A Tiny Apt. is kind of the same…a reminder that the warm season is upon us as well as all that roadside vintage Heller-ware to add to your collection! Alright, enough pontificating and let’s get into it, shall we?🎟️💥
Green and white vintage quilt, $110—I am a bit of a vintage quilt hoarder (there are worse things, right?), and the seller told me this was likely from the 1930s in the classic chicken or crow’s foot pattern. Despite both of those facts being ever so alluring, I was much too busy stroking out over the stark clover green/white color combo, which reminded me of a vintage Benetton rugby shirt that I might have pined for in high school. I can’t wait to show it to you on one of the beds in Future Cottage when it’s finished…it’s DAMN SOFT and snuggly, too. This vintage sticks quilt has a similar color tone vibe and feels deceptively modern. This one isn’t similar at all but under $200, it’s lovely.
Vintage signed handmade soap dish, $5. This was actually the first thing I bought upon arrival. And when I posted about it in my Stories, my friend said it looked like their vagina….which I deeply appreciated.
Pair of vintage Rosti melamine utensils caddy/pitchers, $20. I didn’t need them both but the two colors were literally best in class. And so handy for early suppers or mini pitchers of margaritas outside at the picnic table. Here’s a few more if you need one, too.
1960s peach plastic medicine cabinet, $10. Literally, my biggest job in building our tiny house upstate is offsetting all the construction expenses by sourcing clever accessories/fixtures/furnishings, etc. that don’t cost a lot. As soon as I saw this very ‘60s cabinet, I knew Kevin would hate it. But I also had a hunch it would look cool in the bathroom contrasting the strong graphic pattern of our Zia cement tile…and maybe, just maybe I could win him over. It was only $10 and just pulled from a house before it was torn down, so it felt like I rescued something special. Below is a shot of it in the bathroom (which is still under construction)…thoughts? Am I nuts?
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