We Buy Junk & Sell Antiques. A more accurate sign that should be posted in a prominent place on the wall of most 'antique' shops, or shoppes if you want to get fancy, would read 'We buy your junk and pass it off to unsuspecting rubes as antiques.' It would be required for the sign to be displayed behind the cash register. That way the public wouldn't catch on until they'd paid for their 'antiques.' This isn't to protect the public, I suspect. I think it's just another way to skim our hardearned money, but that's another subject.
And speaking of shoppes, I think there should be a fine for any store that uses Ye Olde English when naming a store located anywhere on this side of the 'pond.' I think Dave Barry had the right idea when he urged those of us who don't feel the need for extra letters when naming a business to write a stern letter to our congresspersons asking that an 'e' tax be implemented. He suggested offenders would be assessed $50,000 for each unnecessary 'e' so the owners of 'Ye Olde Quilt Shoppe' would fork over $150,000 a year. Four or more 'e's would result in a public execution. Since this was nearly 30 years ago, I think we'd need to add a couple of extra 00s to the fine to account for inflation.
But back to the subject of 'antiques.'
I got bored this past weekend (so what else is new?) and decided we should take a road trip but to where? Diners we'd seen on television? Ancient ruins? Museums? Amusement parks? After I surfed the web for a couple of hours, I decided we hadn't been to an antique store for quite a while, so I searched for shops within a 100-mile radius. I'd have searched farther away but David put his foot down. (He's such a party pooper.)
Two hours later we arrived at our destination with the help of our indash nag-igator. A disembodied voice coming from the radio telling us when and where to turn has been an argument saver between David and me. The nag-igator is another story. I have the only nagigator system to throw a hissy fit and refuse to give any more directions until I started listening to her. She's such a diva.
We parked in front of a nondescript metal building with a small sign advertising itself as an Antiques Warehouse Mall. I think the words warehouse and mall were a bit exaggerated. Come to think of it, so was antique. As we strolled inside to look over the thousands of wares housed in this smallish place I was amazed at how much stuff could be crammed into such a small space. Think three-car garage. This got me thinking, 'When did visiting an antique store become a walk down memory lane?'
Seriously, most of the stuff tucked away in the dozens of nooks and crannies held things I had as a kid, my parents owned, my grandparents owned, someone I know owns or (shudder) I own(ed) or still use. This cannot be an antique store. How do they decide what is an antique? And who the heck are 'they' anyway? 'They' seem to make an awful lot of decisions that have given me a lot of grief over the years.
I decided to do a little research on the subject of antiques such as how can my old junk, or junque as I like to call it, be passed off, er, I mean become an antique so I can sell it to some unsuspecting schmo for way more than it's worth? Apparently, the value of any given object is subjective between the seller and buyer. If the seller can't get some schmuck to buy it for an obscene price, he'll have to downgrade it to a collectible. What's a collectible, you ask? A collectible (my definition) is crap people buy to make their houses look 'kitsch' like having chickens and roosters all over the kitchen of a home located in the middle of a city. Or soda pop memorabilia.
Anyway, what I found out was if people were graded like antiques, I'd be considered retro, although that would imply I was in style once upon a time. Har! Har! According to the website I used, our children are vintage (there's something wrong with this picture), and since David didn't make any of those, I guess that makes him an antique. (Shhh. Don't tell him I said so.)
Okay, I should do a little more digging to find out what the difference is between memorabilia, collectibles, vintage, retro, or antique before I decide to take a long walk down memory lane again. but I doubt it.