I knew the moment I stepped into this place I had made a mistake. The first sign was a huge yellow tabby that took one look at me and fled to regions of dark and dingy and probably safety. Good riddance! I sniffed the air and found it quite un-fresh and ladened with the false freshness of – well – – false freshness.

We were supposed to think antique / gift shoppee but in reality this was, as I discovered by engaging the owner-operator in casual conversation, an outlet for newly manufactured “old” junk, which he freely admitted was the result of his perusing of over 3000 catalogs, which he said kept coming in daily.

Now, I have been around. I’ve been in antique shops, barns, certified junk shops. understated ego infested, way over-priced Ye Olde Stuff shops, yard sales and every flea market table in Searsport, Maine. You could have put every single piece of all that into this old Victorian-ish house I was in yesterday and you would have an idea of just how jam-packed the place was. To say “overstimulating” is an understatement. The word hasn’t been invented to describe the clutter, which on closer inspection was a most carefully constructed chaos. This guy was clearly a card carrying Obsessive Compulsive. You had to admire his industry.

By now I am wheezing some and my eyes were misting. It could have been the cat, but I suspect it was more the bouquet of b-zillions of newly minted pieces of junk treated with whatever paint, chemical, or infusion it would take to make it resemble some 19th century American relic.

What is even more amazing is the quiet industry behind this “outlet” employing thousands, yea, even millions of non-American laborers on the other side of the planet who are the first link in a chain of value added wealth which culminated in our purchase of a $3.98 bauble to hang in a window to catch the sun’s rays. That same sun that shines on us all, wherever we are in the world.

1 Comment

  1. Elizabeth Down Gondek

    Wow, where was this amazing place????

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