More things I didn't buy: special self-helpful edition

I didn't buy this copy of L. Ron Hubbard's Self Analysis though I picked it up, put it down, picked it up, put it down, more times than you'd expect from an unself-helpful atheist like myself. The fox terrier just really threw me—I'm a big fan of The Thin Man's Asta—and in all the exposés I've read over the years about Scientology, I don't recall any references to those clever wirehairs. Obviously this was a vintage book yet there was no date—confounding! I didn't buy it; perhaps that was a mistake. Three dollars just seemed like a lot to pay for something that I remember being passed out for free in Times Square.

Holy crap. This guy. Right? How is it possible that anyone would buy a self-help book with this gleefully leering cover image? Even if it were about something as innocuous as gardening—and didn't have the icky pun for a title—I'd run away. But Your Erroneous Zones was apparently a massive best-seller; more evidence that the ’70s were different times indeed. Yes, this was at the same estate sale as the L. Ron Hubbard book. Obviously the departed was a bit of a seeker; here's hoping he/she found what he/she was looking for.

The seeker was also something of a hoarder. Who else would save an unopened pack of Carter's girls' ruffled leg briefs long after they could've possibly fit anyone in the house? Why weren't they donated to Goodwill decades ago? And yeah, my rule of never buying undergarments at an estate sale applies even to undergarments that are "new in package."

More things I didn't get: obsolete technology redux

You all know I have a weakness for obsolete technology, for the dinosaurs of the pre-digital age, and it often takes all the self-discipline I can muster to resist buying stuff that tends not to work and serves no purpose (unless dust magnet counts as a purpose). The cute Smith-Corona Coronet, above, was fairly easy to pass up given the $75 price tag (hello? what?). And I've been pretty good about limiting myself to just one vintage typewriter, my super-rad Smith Corona Super G, unless you count that powder blue Smith-Corona Galaxie 12 in my garage (anyone want it? They are a bitch to ship). 

I did not buy this Atari 400 "home computer" because it was part of a box lot that was going for a few hundred dollars, and I wasn't really sure what the market value would be. I also knew the value didn't matter, that it would end up in the garage because Lindsay, who became visibly emotional when I showed him this pic, would never let me resell it. 

Ah, the Kodak Carousel. As I've observed in the past, there really does seem to be one tucked away in the closet of every midcentury tract house in town. I can't even begin to fathom what kind of camera I would need to produce slides, and if it's possible to still make slides, or would I just have to buy someone's old vacation slides and view those? I do love a good slide show. Maybe I will break down and buy one next time...

I didn't buy any of these cameras. I see so many cameras and we have so many cameras, I can't see adding to our collection (the two Polaroid Land cameras, the two Lomos, the Lumix, the Nikon, the Olympus, the various underwater cameras belonging to the children, the two videocameras...I'm sure I'm leaving some out) when all I ever use is my iPhone.

I didn't buy this portable Zenith Solid-State turntable and radio—oh, wait a minute, yes, I did! I cannot resist a $5 turntable, no matter how filthy it is, and the radio works like a dream! Radio may be a fogey medium, but it's not obsolete (yet).

More things I didn't buy, starting with wine bricks and ending with Teletubbies

I didn't buy these wine bricks for $3 apiece, but I totally would have if I could've come up with any reasonable place to put them on my ramshackle estate. I'd never heard of wine bricks, but I think it's a pretty brilliant idea. If you have someplace to put them. I saw this massive wine honeycomb at a very unusual midcentury house; the kind that always gets called "Frank Lloyd Wright-inspired" cuz they don't how else to explain it. In this case, the real estate jargon was actually kind of accurate.

I didn't buy any of this amateur art, made by a particularly prolific amateur artist, even though it made me sad to see it unwanted by the family (rule #37—that is never a good reason to buy anything!).

I did not buy this cute Swedish holiday wall hanging because it had an unpleasant brown stain on it, about the size of a quarter. In hindsight, I should've bought it and tried to actually implement the advice in one of my many Heloise books.

I didn't buy this terrifying Teletubbie head, and I'm pretty sure I don't have to explain why.

More things I didn't buy: Game of Thrones edition

I bought a ton of stuff this past weekend at one major blowout of a sale (books!), but now that school has started and I'm back in the blogging saddle, I need to catch up on some old, dusty posts first. Like, don't you want to know all the stuff I haven't been buying? Starting with this totally awesome lantern sconce, which reminds me of Game of Thrones, probably because I really, really miss Game of Thrones, though it wouldn't be out of place in any medieval-style restaurant or B-movie. I appreciated it, but I didn't want it. There is a difference.

I seriously wanted to buy this giant medallion/sun dial wall plaque thingie (is it Mayan? Incan? cursed in some way?) because I have seen similar ones proudly displayed over fireplaces (as this one was) in many of my vintage Sunset Books. It's clearly the only place you can hang one of these things. But in my house that would mean relocating the family-room flat-screen and I don't think that's a negotiation I would win.

It amused me to see someone's old cache of Playboys squirreled away in a closet at an estate sale. I'm guessing this is where the original owner kept them and the estate-sale company didn't have the stomach to display them more prominently. All my early encounters with Playboy were in the closets of friends' parents or brothers (I think that sounds worse than it was), so this came as no big surprise. Sadly, these issues were all from the ’80s and I draw the line at the 1970s when buying nudie mags (and $3 each? Oh, honey please).

More things I didn't buy: matches, family pics and FDR

I didn't buy this nice assortment of vintage matchbooks because I've already got a well-documented matchbook problem, so I tried to do the right thing. I'll admit to being annoyed/pleased/relieved/annoyed when someone else snapped up this collection as soon as I set it down. [Grits teeth...]

I didn't buy this portrait of FDR, though I quite liked it. It was kind of expensive; there was some paperwork detailing the provenance that was somehow meant to justify the price but since it wasn't something readily googleable, I passed.

You've heard me make this lamentation before—seriously, surviving family members? You're going to sell off your ancestral photos to strangers? This sale, one of the best I've been to all year, was absolutely chock-a-block with personal mementoes—amateur artworks, certificates, trophies, tons of photos, scrapbooks, albums, even the family Weimeraner's AKC papers (somehow I did end up with those...). Let's just say I wasn't the only customer feeling judgey, though I'm sure they had their reasons mutter mutter blah blah...

More things I didn't buy: baby books and old undies

Even on half price day, I'm not buying your old slips and bras! I've got limits.

I didn't buy this totally rad midcentury hanging lamp because it was SOLD. Curses.

I didn't buy this vintage baby book because I already have plenty of vintage baby books and no babies to speak of. But it bums me out every time I see discarded memorabilia of this caliber. Seriously—no one in the family wanted this baby book with all the great ephemera (receipts for flowers sent to hospital, etc)? Tsk. Heartless savages.

More things I didn't buy, including a nude lady

In an effort to continue to please blog visitors looking for nude ladies, here is an oil painting of a lovely odalisque, which I did not buy because it was $800, it covered a whole wall and I didn't want it.

At this sale, the entire deck and backyard was awash with these clay pots, which I believe are called amphorae. It's what I imagine whole stretches of the bottom of the Aegean Sea must look like but that didn't make me want to buy them.

I did want this chair, though I've mentioned that my house has come to resemble the showroom for a weird chair factory, right? Still, it was only $50. $50! But this was one of the creepiest estate sales I've been to in a while...For starters, it was one of those "living" estate sales, an oxymoron for sure—if the owner is on site and haggling with customers, then it's not an estate sale. It's a garage/yard/house sale. Anyway.  This was a dirty, hoardy household and the owner was a weedy, skeevy fellow straight out of pedophile central casting—and unfortunately, my kids were with me, so the whole time, I was hissing, Don't touch that! Get away from there! Thinking they would be taking home pet bed bugs and maybe some of the moldy inspirational/religious posters the guy was pushing on them because they featured photos of fuzzy animals. Gah. By the time I noticed this rad chair, we were already halfway out the door. Too late.

More things I didn't buy: Sassy Lady edition

I didn't buy this Sassy Lady All-Purpose Ultra-Suede Fringe because I am not crafty or sew-y or even fringy, but that's no excuse considering it was only a dollar. Shame on me.

I didn't buy this bizarre, accordion-style, collapsible bed even though it wouldn't look out of place in Game of Thrones and I heart Game of Thrones. It was billed as "one of a kind" (skeptical of that but certainly not something you'd see at The Mattress Firm or Ikea) and preposterously priced at $5,000 (or best offer). Think I can find cheaper ways of slicing off my digits.

Didn't buy this attractive set of Iroquois Casual China by Russel Wright because, as you know, I do not collect china. Disregard this post.

More things I didn't buy, including dolls, wigs and rebel flags

I didn't buy this doll because I only like weird dolls, preferably weird wooden dolls.

I didn't buy this wig because wigs are on my no-buy list, along with previously-owned undergarments and any hand-held gadget that vibrates.

I didn't buy these flags. I've got plenty of Old Glories to bring out for display on the appropriate holidays. As for the other, I don't think I have to explain.

More things I didn't buy: previously owned canned goods, nail clippers and Ferragamos

I didn't buy these Sun Vista black beans because I'm strictly a Goya girl. Also, $1 for a can of previously owned beans seems a little steep, right?

I didn't buy this pile of old nail clippers because (a) that's gross and (b) I've got my own pile of nail clippers—though not this many. Then again, I'm undoubtedly younger than the person who owned these, so I guess there's still time to accumulate more.

I didn't buy this pair of vintage Ferragamo peep toes because (a) they were size 6 1/2 and I'm an 8, and (b) they were a little grody. I love the box though.

More things I didn't buy: obsolete technology-a-rama

I didn't buy these adorable Valiant Walkie-Talkies because I assumed they wouldn't work. Walkie-Talkies never work, no matter how much we wish they would.

I didn't buy this turntable because I have more turntables than I know what to do with.

I didn't buy this stack of laserdiscs because—thankfully—that was one clunky, short-lived media format we never got on board with.

I see a lot of tiny TVs and I always have to suppress the urge to buy them. For one thing, I've got at least one tiny TV tucked away in the guest-room closet right now, possibly more. For another, they never work (see walkie-talkies). But I do romanticize them; as a kid, I had a tiny grey Panasonic in my bedroom. I remember rising before dawn to watch the sham wedding of Charles and Diana on it (even on a screen smaller than your hand that dress was larger than life). I also took my tiny TV to college freshman year, and with the aid of the rabbit ears, was able to tune into Letterman every night. But nostalgia is no justification for purchasing a tiny, probably nonfunctioning TV, is it? No, it's not.

More things I didn't buy: Toikka birds and Scary Monsters

How happy was I to find a Toikka?

I know it's not right to bitch, but it does bum me out when an estate sale service does a good job executing its fiduciary responsibility to get the best price for its clients. Toikka birds are the work of Oiva Toikka, glass designer extraordinaire for the Finnish design company Iitalla, and they aren't free. They're also as scarce as peacocks in South Texas (actually my neighbor has peacocks so I don't know why I said that—as scarce as kiwi birds?), and I hardly ever find any Finnish design objects...

The original brochure!

...let alone Finnish design objects with the original paperwork! You might be thinking, doesn't she have enough Finnish design objects? But you know the answer to that. Anyway, I passed. Too rich for my blood, especially after I paid money I don't have on such a great score at the same sale! Which I'll share soon.

Bowie forever stamps

I didn't buy these limited-edition David Bowie Scary Monsters stamps, which apparently came from some obscure import 12-inch, because they were $20. That might have been a mistake. I don't know the market for David Bowie stamps; I just know I wasn't sure what I would do with them. Frame them? Bah.

An unnecessary object

If you're ever on the estate sale trail you know indoor barometers were once mighty popular items. Makes me wonder how we've been managing without them. Anyway, I usually see them in a nautical theme, not this supercute German Black Forest cuckoo style, but $20? I don't pay $20 for just anything.

More things I didn't buy: John Belushi/Nostradamus edition

This Animal House poster is super-rad and I have no idea why I didn't buy it. Even if it'd ended up hanging in the garage, it would've been a worthy investment at $15. Poo.

I did not buy any of these 8-tracks; in fact, I never buy 8-tracks. Much as I love me some obsolete technology, certain media-delivery systems are too clunky and cumbersome and ugly to be revived (don't get all cocky, VHS and CDs, cuz I'm looking at you, too).

Do you ever wonder what will happen to all your precious refrigerator magnets when you die? Assuming your kids don't want them—and I'm going to assume that—they will be organized into Zip-locs and offered for cheap at your estate sale. No one will buy them and they will end up in a landfill. Consider this next time you're tempted to buy a souvenir magnet at some truck stop on your next road trip (says the person who recently discovered a Zip-loc full of grimy refrigerator magnets from her refrigerator in Brooklyn, which she hasn't seen in eight years).

Despite his being totally on the money with the Hister/Hitler prediction, I did not buy this copy of The Prophecies of Nostradamus... Wait a minute, I totally did! The eyes of Nostradamus compelled me to do so!

More things I didn't buy: Special early Mother's Day edition

No, I certainly did not buy this copy of Sometimes My Mom Drinks Too Much. Cut too close to the bone.

If this Mommie Dearest movie poster had been in halfway decent shape, I totally would have bought it (though if it had been in halfway decent shape, it wouldn't have been $4. This is the same estate sale where a Jack Daniel's Christmas tree was priced at hundreds of dollars. Then again, I'm not familiar with the market for JD Christmas trees so maybe that was totally reasonable). This would've been perfect wall art for the home office, though it may have frightened the children and haunted their dreams, just like the vinage Medea poster my mother hung in our upstairs hallway haunted mine. A poster featured a wild-eyed Medea holding a bloody dagger, her slain children at her feet. Hm. Mom, what were you thinking? Anyway, I was always a huge fan of Mommie Dearest as was my friend Rob, with whom I used to recite the dialogue ("Don't fuck with ME, fellas!"). In one of those fleeting but intense moments of estate sale frisson, I found this poster on his birthday. Naturally frenzied texting ensued.

Maybe this is a slight stretch for my Mother's Day theme, but an Oster Vibra-Massager does say "I love you, Mom!" better than flowers or a coffee mug, doesn't it? However, I could not bring myself to buy it. Along with my strict no-undergaments estate sale policy, I have an equally inflexible attitude toward buying secondhand vibrators, no matter how cute the original packaging.

More things I didn't buy: overpriced edition

I didn't buy this Sammy Davis Jr. 45 of "Mr. Bojangles" because it was $8 and didn't even have its sleeve! I have been known to buy 45s with no sleeves, and 45s with really cool sleeves but the wrong record inside, but 45s with no sleeves? For $8? I have to draw the line somewhere.

This "all-inclusive sandwich manual" was part of a pretty adorable cookbook series I've never seen before. But $15 each! What the hell. I really wanted this one though, just because of the telephones on the cover. Something about a good retro telephone illustration gets me every time, even if it doesn't seem to have anything to do with the book's topic—in this case, all-inclusive sandwiches.

I didn't buy this 1951 version of the Better Homes and Gardens Handyman's Book on the grounds that $5 was too much for a book with some water damage on its fabulously illustrated cover. This may need to be filed under "regrets, I have a few..."