thrift store spoils, ch. 22: Ben Seibel's Country-Time, a Ges Line Ashtray, and humble requests for I.D. help

How about we begin with a thrift-store-find mystery that I hope someone out there can help me solve?

I found these three small bowls on a half-day-seven-thrift-store shopping craze. I have an efficient route that takes me east through four traffic-heavy Northern Virginia cities, yet allows me to complete the run in four hours. (Caveat: I no longer have small children.)

I picked up these bowls because I thought they might be Russel Wright. However, there are no markings on the bottoms indicating such—only three stilt marks on each bowl. Also, after getting home and researching, the color of these looks a little darker than the iconic Russel Wright Coral. So maybe I got knockoffs? I do like them, regardless. But does anyone out there know whether the smaller Russel Wright pieces were ever manufactured without markings?

By the way, the melmac tray in the photo with the bowls is one I picked up at a SA last week. It's also unmarked. I got it because it matches the unmarked melmac bowls that both my Florida Mamaw and my Kentucky Mamaw used to serve us ice cream and cereal in.

This is definitely my best find of the past couple of weeks. Despite promises to myself to never ever venture into the Manassas SA on a Wednesday (when, ahem, the entire store is 25% off, and when everybody and his or her brother seems to know it), I did. I walked in three minutes after the store opened, and I picked up the last shopping basket available. There were two carts left, but I don't like carts. 

I have to say that, despite everyone else's carts getting in my way, I made out okay. And among the items I found were these three Ben Seibel designed salad plates by Pfaltzgraff. The pattern is Country-Time, and the minimalist fruit images are so stinkin' mid-century mod, as are the colors—saffron and gray. Am I wrong?

I probably won't keep them, though; I'm collecting, like, three patterns already, so I can't. But I'm not sure whether I'll list them in my Etsy shop, or whether I'll try an Ebay auction. I'm leaning Etsy, because Ebay intimidates me. (Too much down-to-the-wire pressure.) 

Right now I'm just trying to price them. I haven't found any of these exact plates for sale online right now, so I'm clueless about the current market value. (Thus, the nerve-wracking Ebay auction idea—let the free market decide!)

Anyway.

On the shopping spree day, I  found these two bread and butter plates—also designed by Ben Seibel, but manufactured by Iroquois. I believe the pattern's name is Pyramids, but I'm not sure. I'll admit I don't love the pattern. In fact, I bought the plates for the far out logo and fonts on the plates' backs. I know. That's just sad.

I got this unnumbered blue Pyrex mixing bowl to help Mama complete her Primary set. And I happened across a Taylorstone Cathay dinner plate to add to my recently acquired humongous set, discovered and bought on Taylorstone Cathay Day. This one has a little chip, but I just don't care.

Also for Mama, I picked up this Pyrex 023 Opal. (She likes the Opals.) The bread and butter plate is mine. It's Copper Filigree, one of the Pyrex dinnerware patterns.

I don't normally buy ashtrays, because I simply have no justification. (The hubbie lets his cigar ashes fall wherever they may, don't you know.) But this ashtray is uber-cool. The bottom indicates that it's a Ges Line and that it was "Made in the U.S.A." See? Uber-cool. (Note, please, that I don't know whether the Ges Line does or does not need a dash—like Ges-Line? The name on the ashtray doesn't make it clear, so I'm going with the usage I found online as most common. No dash, it is.)

What'll I do with an ashtray? I'll either use it as a ridiculous candy dish, or list it on Etsy. Not sure which.

Okay. More I.D. help needed, please.

This lovely, frolicking-wild-horse bar glass is dated 1993, but I can't identify the maker. 

Anyone out there recognize this logo? I'd like to learn more about the glass, but I can't find that logo on any of my logo-I.D. go-to sites. 

And still more help, please?

This cradle thingie was priced at 96 cents, and, of course, it has such a fun wooden handle. So there was no way I could leave it sitting on the GW shelf amongst all the common stuff. Too bad I have no idea what it was originally intended to hold and/or display. (At first, I was thinking that it might be part of a Pyrex set, but I can't find a photo of it in any of my regular Pyrex info sources.) 

Clue: It is collapsible.

The two tiny serving pieces were made in Japan. They were a little grungy at the store, but after cleaning the stainless steel and treating the wooden handles at home, they look quite good, if I do say so myself.

So those are the only items I'll write about this week. And, please, if you have any idea what the unknowns up there are, I'd love for you to share.

And I'll leave you with a Remington Steele update (because I wrote about the show last week). This week I watched the first episode of the second season. 

It's the episode in which Laura and Mr. Steele travel to exotic Acapulco, in part to save Laura's housekeeper's son from some bad south-of-the-border dudes. But it's also the episode that explains away the sudden absence of two of the first season's secondary characters, while also cleverly introducing replacement Doris Roberts (a.k.a. Mildred Krebs) as the IRS agent/stickler who, turns out, is a closet adventure seeker. (Spoiler alert: Mildred becomes Remington Steele's receptionist/private-eye extraordinaire and adds immensely to the show's charm.) 

Well, also in this episode, Laura Holt sports some rad vintage 1980s parachute pants. Oh, yes. Check it out.

I lived through the parachute pants days, by the way. And I'm here to tell you that it wasn't always pretty. (Laura carries it off well, though. Look at that itsy-bitsy waist!)

Please note the bar stool behind/next to Laura. Doesn't that look Eames-ish? Could that be an authentic wire bar stool designed by the man himself? Or only a reproduction. Fun, nevertheless.

Thanks to Sir Thrift-a-Lot, Thrifter/Maker/Fixer/Farm, We Call It Junkin, and a living space for the opportunity to link up.

thrift store spoils, ch. 6: red, white, blue, and Barbed Wire

Okey-doke. I'll just jump right in.

For the first time in a while, I stopped by a yard sale. And for the record, I don't like yard sale shopping, because I always feel like all sellers' eyes are on me. This is not because I'm self-absorbed; instead, I suppose, it's a result of a history of shopping at low customer volume yard sales? Like, I'm the only one in the driveway, and these poor folks are wanting to get rid of their junk. That's a lot of pressure.

I also don't like negotiating price. I say just place a sticker with a $1 on it, and I'll decide whether to purchase or to walk. That's just me. 

And I generally take only a minute to look around and decide whether there's anything on the tables or blankets worth my time before heading back to my vehicle to get the heck out of Dodge. Inevitably, I feel like I should apologize to the sellers for not wanting to sort through their old socks and pajamas looking for a gem. 

But enough about my issues. 

The yard sale I did stop in at was one was held in a school parking lot and benefiting a local high school lacrosse team. (Translation: more sellers and customers to take pressure off of me to find something worth buying. Yep. I'm a nut.)  

Anyhow, I bought some vintage cookbooks that are pretty cool but that I don't really need. 

They’re in great shape and look hardly used, and I love the illustrations in a couple of them. I must say, though, that they stink to high Heaven—you know, that musty, old-book and old-house smell. I now have them quarantined in plastic bags with used dryer sheets placed in between some pages. (This is a technique I learned from Martha Stewart before I quit watching her.) The crepe cookbook is for one of my daughters, who holds the title of family crepe maker. (I'm thinking it's time for her to branch out and add some variety to her dishes. Enough with the Nutella.)

There was also an older, obviously used and loved, dessert cookbook at the yard sale—one with vintage two-color, happy homemaker illustrations—but the pages were sticky and splattered with flecks of batter and such. (Definitely used and loved. How sweet.) I could not overlook the grunge, however, and I left it there. 

Now on to my thrift store finds, starting with four pieces of Pyrex. 

This is my first piece of Barbed Wire Pyrex, and I paid more for it than I have for any other piece—$7.99 for both the divided dish and the lid (with no chips or cracks anywhere).  I know that $7.99 doesn’t sound like too much for Pyrex in good condition, but I’m a thrift store shopper: I like a bargain. 

According to my copy of Michael Barber’s PYREX Passion, this pattern is a promotional one produced in 1958, and it was offered as a 1 1/2 quart Cinderella Divided Serving Dish (#063) only. In fact, Barbed Wire was the first promotional pattern produced as a divided dish. 

By the way, turns out that Barbed Wire is considered an unofficial pattern name—meaning, I suppose, that there’s no official literature around referring to it as something else?  

I’m still trying to find out when this Opal Pyrex Cinderella Bowl (#441) was produced. There seems to be more info out there on patterns than on either solids or clears. Please chime in if you can help me out on this one.

(Note to self: Don't take any more photos using your black coffee table as a base. Everything comes out too dark and unflattering.)

This is a 9-inch (#703) Pyrex Tableware dinner plate. The handy-dandy website Pyrex Love states that Pyrex Tableware is also known as Restaurant Ware. And according to PYREX Passion's convenient pattern guide, this pattern is called Copper Filigree. Lovely.

I bought a cute, clear and covered Pyrex casserole dish (#602) at SA. I've done some research and determined that this is clearly vintage 1980s—rather than vintage 1930s (during which a very similar #602 dish was produced). The reference to "700 ml" on the bottom of mine should have been an instant, dead giveaway. 

I've mentioned before that I tend to go for Bicentennial items, as well as most American-themed stuff. Well, I picked up four patriotic tumblers (in the pattern above and in worse shape) at a nearby SA. I carried them around the store for a few minutes, browsing, but finally I put the glasses back on the shelf. They were just too dishwasher damaged for me. My next stop was a GW, where—goodness gracious—there sat five of the same glasses in the same pattern. They were in mint condition and half the price of the ones I had almost bought just a half-hour before. I already had three at home, so now I have a complete set of eight. God bless America.

These salad utensils have no name or mark on them, so I have no idea who produced them. But aren't they so Mad-Men cool?

The melmac gravy boat says it's Royal by Branchell on the bottom. I recently bought some pieces from this set at my favorite GW. But I found the gravy boat about a week later at the same store. This seems to happen a lot—finding pieces to the same set spread out over days. I figure that sometimes pieces get separated in the stockroom, but later get put out on the floor.

The orange bowl is stamped "Syracuse China" on the bottom. I don't know how old it is, but it's hefty. And it's orange. So I bought it.

I found this little bowl, with "Grant Crest Tempo" printed in gold on the bottom, next to two marred teacup saucers of the same pattern. I bought only the bowl. Gotta love the mid-century starbursts.

And now to the mugs I bought. (Note to self: Quit buying mugs.)

This Starbucks mug is dated 2006.

This mug just feels in the hand like a coffee mug should feel.

  

 What can I say? I like cats. I also like orange and brown.

This mug, I believe, was produced by "Western Stoneware Company" of Monmouth, Illinois. At least, that's what my research turns up. The writing on the inside of the maple leaf reads WSC. USA is stamped beside the stem.

I had a very good Tupperware shopping week. Just happened in at the right store at the right time, I suppose. 

I'm guessing that everything I got is vintage late 1990s and 2000s, except for the topless orange Servalier canister, that is.

One last thing—on a quick stop-in at a SA, I found a 1961 issue of The Congressional Cookbook, compiled by "The Congressional Club" with a forward by "Mrs. John F. Kennedy." Inside are recipes after recipes submitted by the wives of politicians of the day (or at least by staffers of politicians of the day—am I too cynical?). And the illustrations are great: elephants and donkeys cooperating in the kitchen! I'll share more in a later post. For now, here's a sneak peak. 

 

Thanks to Sir Thrift-A-Lot and a living space for the opportunity to link up!

And much appreciation goes to We Call It Junkin for allowing me to join their link-up party We Call It Olde.

That is all. And, I'll admit, that's certainly enough.