Brimful of Antiques on the 45

I grew up in Wakefield. I live and breathe the words of  Springfield. But my heart, my little wooden heart, belongs to Brimfield. 

Sunday Funday took on a completely different meaning as my friends Katie, Jill, Jill’s unborn baby and I piled into the Jeep and took off for the largest outdoor antiques fair in the world.  Brimfield takes place three times per year (May, July and September) and each show lasts six days. Today was the last day of the July show so we knew some dealers would be packing up to head home but it’s also a great time to get some deals.

What do they have at Brimfield? Everything. Seriously. Whether it’s vintage clothes, rusty awesomeness, gorgeous furniture or even vintage vinyl, you can find it at Brimfield.

I followed this sign. It brought me to an empty table. Sounds about right.

I followed this sign. It brought me to an empty table. Sounds about right.

The day was warm, to say the least. It was 96 degrees. That’s only two degrees less than a terrible boy band! It was stifling. I was a sweaty mess. A swess. Jill procured not one, but two frozen lemonades over the course of an hour. But that didn’t stop us. (It stopped us briefly at times, and we may have stayed JUST a little longer in the tents that had fans…) I ended up with a small haul (for me) taking home  a vintage dress & skirt (at 50% off!) and some planters but I think if I had more time and was more hydrated, I could have done some serious damage.

I wanted to buy these but I didn't. I regret it.

I wanted to buy these but I didn’t. I regret it.

Hat and red lipstick. Bodyless head after my own heart.

Hat and red lipstick. Bodyless head after my own heart.

Brimfield is gourd-geous.

Brimfield is gourd-geous.

One of the shopping tips for such a huge event is that if you’re looking for something in particular, make a t-shirt that says it so folks can help you when you’re poking around their booths. If I had made a shirt for today, it would have said “creepy clowns” because for some reason, they have been cracking me up lately. And we found a few that stole our souls hearts.

KILLITWITHFIRE

KILLITWITHFIRE

CREEPY CLOWN CANNIBAL

CREEPY CLOWN CANNIBAL

Some of the booths were just so cool in an awesome cluttered, colorful and unique way.

Do these chairs only look cool if you buy 20?

Do these chairs only look cool if you buy 20?

Crazy for Crates!

Crazy for Crates!

I love birds.

I love birds.

Poppin bottles.

Poppin bottles.

So much death. And it looks AWESOME.

So much death. And it looks AWESOME.

I definitely want to head to the September show, maybe even for more than one day. I know we didn’t even get through 1/10 of the market today and I would love to be able to just take it all in, talk to some dealers and boost my closet and collections. And maybe this time do it with 85% less underboob sweat.

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I Have HAT IT Up to Here!

Recently one of my favorite vintage stores, Cur.io Vintage (right in Waltham!) posted this great article on the inimitable Tziporah Salamon. I’m not really sure that describing her as “stylish” even does her justice. She needs her own word. She’s just so…Tziporah. It’s like “That’s So Raven” only she was never on The Cosby Show. The article explores how she puts together her famous looks, even waiting years (seven, in one case) to wear certain finds until she has what she considers the perfect, complete outfit.

I can’t even handle how elegant this woman is, seriously. She’s just so…Tziporah. Compared to her elegance, I feel like the kid from the “I like turtles” video.

I had two main takeaways from the article (besides reinforcement of my own inadequacy):

First, style is not the same as fashion. I love this. As someone who also eschews labels (But not as well. I’m not so Tziporah), I truly believe this and it’s a big part of being a vintage shopper. The look vs. the label. She says it best (Obviously. For the love of gosh, this woman!) “And I’m not fashionable at all; I’m stylish. Fashionable is of the moment. Fashionable is the latest Prada, Gucci, or whatever is “in” this minute, and I rarely have what’s in-the-moment. In fact, when I buy new clothes, which I do, the more you can’t tell who it is, the better. I’ll never wear something with someone’s initials or name on it.”

The second, hats! She loves hats. She wears a hat everyday. She considers them an exclamation point on an outfit, and she’s right. And in a strange alignment of the Universe, my darling friend Leslie brought me a bunch of hats this week that belonged to her grandmother.

Image

Hats from my darling, Leslie

One of my favorite hats (and also #1 on the list of things I would grab if my apartment was on fire) is this awesome hat from my grandfather. That’s the handsome gent in the banner of this blog.

Hat stands, I'm a big fan.

Hat stands, I’m a big fan.

My Gramps was wicked smaht, kid.

My Gramps was wicked smaht, kid.

The hats I wear are usually more of the baseball variety but next time I see a hat I love I’ll ask myself “What What Tziporah Salamon Do?” and maybe be inspired to try it on. And buy it.  And find every perfect accompanying piece to go along with it, even if it takes years. And wear them all beautifully…yeah probably not.