thrift store spoils, ch. 10: mid-century mod goodness and some Pyrex

Just for fun, check out the windows on my favorite Goodwill last week: 

And please humor me while I share with you an odd thrift store encounter. (We've all had odd thrift store encounters, right?) 

It started about six months ago at a nearby SA, when an older gentleman shopper approached me a couple of times to make friendly comments (small talk, really), as if trying to start a conversation. I was polite in return, as I always try to be, but I didn’t encourage him. (I was on a thrift shopping mission and didn't really want to be bothered. Duh.) Later, though, he came up to me yet again to show off what he’d found—a Little Tikes shelf  sitting in his shopping cart.

I said something like "Yeah, that’s nice"—at which point, the dude put his hand on my shoulder, leaned in, and asked, “Are you available?” 

Seriously. He asked me whether I was available. In a thrift store.

I rolled my eyes and said, “Absolutely not.” (Come on, mister. Move on. I'm huntin' for some opal Pyrex here.) Then I walked away. 

So this week while in the same SA and in the same housewares department, I turned to find the same man beside me (though it took a few seconds for it to register). The man points to my shopping basket and asks, “Can I put my stuff in there?”

Good God. 

I hardy-harred with him and, again, walked on. Of course, he was harmless, but Lordy. 

I don't know. I guess not everyone goes to thrift stores to shop—some go for company?

Anyway, weird. Has anything like that ever happened to y'all?

And why am I writing about this? I don't know. 


But it does help me segue into why the odd things and people and smells we come across in thrift stores are worth it—because sometimes you happen across really cool stuff like this mid-century covered casserole.

It's an Ernest Sohn Creations piece, and it's in nice condition—without even utensil marks or scratches. I've learned that Sohn tended to mix ceramic, wood, and metal in his designs. In the case of this casserole, we have only the ceramic and wood (walnut, I think); however, the warming stand/cradle that was originally sold with it was made of wood and metal—with classic atomic-style mid-century legs. (I've seen a photo!) I paid a little more than I'm used to spending on housewares in thrift stores, but I wanted this one.

I also bought this never-used basketball toy thingie that you attach to your office or bedroom waste basket. And if the original box and instructions (dated 1969) are to be believed, the thing "fits all wastebaskets." Handy-dandy! The backboard on the contraption (which I failed to photograph) is a faux wood. And all of the pieces—including the net—are still there. 

This office time waster reminds me of a board-type game that my daddy had back in the 1950s, a game that my brother and I would play when we'd visit my Kentucky Mamaw's farm in the 1970s. It was called Bas-ket, and it included a cardboard gym floor, cardboard backboards, spring action spots across the floor for shooting, and a ping-pong ball as a basketball. We spent hours playing that game.

Just a quick note about something I didn't buy: I saw this mid-century serving cart in a GW last week, and I texted this photo to Mama, as it's the same one she bought when I was in North Carolina a while back. (I wrote about hers and posted a photo here.) I sent her this photo to show her what a deal she got. This one was priced at $60, while she paid a mere $5. Yay!

The bottom 474 Pyrex casserole dish here (the lidless one) is a Spring Blossom Green (1979 Redesign).  The top one, though, I'm still unsure of. It's a 472, but I can't figure out whether it belongs to a Spring Blossom Green set or a Verde one. I'm thinking it's a Verde sold with the wrong lid (as the Verde's lid is opal with green flowers, while this one is clear). I don't know.

I love Pyrex mixing bowls. The 401 on top is from the Rainbow Stripes series, vintage 1965-1967. The bottom bowl is from the Primary Colors series, and although it looks like a 401, it's unmarked. My understanding is that this means that it's vintage 1945-1949, as Pyrex didn't issue model numbers during that time period. 

And these are the Pyrex pieces I didn't buy:

These were at my closest GW, and as you can see, all three pieces had lids. (Yay!) But we're talking Old Orchard here—the current ugly duckling pattern of Pyrex. 

I know. Tastes will change, so we may all like it one day. And I do like browns. But still: the price wasn't right enough, and I'd have to find somewhere to store them. So I passed. Then I stopped back in at the same GW a few days after, and they were all still there. The staff had moved them up to the front table where they like to feature items. Poor things. 

I found this enamel mixing bowl at another GW. It's in great condition, and I love the logo on the bottom (designed by Homer Laughlin!).

And last, I picked up some books and a Creative Memories Christmas album. Published in 1965, the Betty Crocker cookbook is so much fun—full of sweet illustrations and retro photographs.

Check out the Pyrex Terra casseroles here. Circa 1965, of course.

I'm linking up with Sir Thrift-a-Lot, a living space, We Call It Olde Link-Up, Colorado Lady, and Remnant. (Thanks for the opportunity to do so, y'all!)

And that is all.

serendipity (and Taylorstone Cathay)

An introduction from me, as well as justifications for this blog, will follow in later posts.

For now, I’ll just jump right in and launch this thing with a tale of my latest thrift store shopping trip—a serendipitous one. 

And here’s how it went:

Whenever I visit my parents in the mountains of North Carolina, I try to peruse the several thrift stores and resale shops in Spruce Pine. And there are, indeed, quite a few there for a town that’s so small.

The first place we visited (and always my fave ) was Shops of SafePlace, a store whose sales benefit domestic violence victims.  The front section of the shop is mainly clothes and books. But in the back, an enterprising thrifter can find a nice collection of vintage dishes, kitschy knickknacks, a few pieces of so-so furniture, and some fun polyester vintage clothing. Some of it is priced at resale, some at thrift.

That day, I found two Taylorstone Cathay bread & butter plates for my modest—but treasured—Cathay collection. I love, love, love this pattern. And I remember the first time I ever laid eyes on it—at a thrift store in Mobile, Alabama, almost 10 years ago. At that time, when my knowledge of mid-century design was more limited than it is now, I liked the pattern because it reminded me of Epcot. (For real.)

At SafePlace, I also grabbed a single bread & butter plate marked Fortune on the bottom. It was obviously mid-century; I liked the pattern; and it was priced at only 89 cents. How could I just leave it there by itself? After checking online later, I learned that it was a Homer Laughlin design. Cool.

My mom—who doesn’t normally thrift store shop—picked up six simple, delicate, white Syralite bowls from Syracuse. I wish she'd taken photos of them. She says she’ll use them for ice cream.

After that, and while heading toward a local antique store, we stumbled upon a place out on Highway 226 that used to be a gem mining tourist trap, but that now gives the appearance that business is slow. There was, though, a handwritten yard sale sign (complete with an arrow pointing toward a seemingly empty building) out front. We stopped.

Turns out, there was a little gem store in the back, where we asked about the yard sale.  The nice lady there told a teenager in the room to open it for us. The teenager left for a minute, she returned with keys and a money box, and she escorted Mama and me to the next building—the empty looking one. (For a thrift store junkie, it was like getting a private shopping appointment at a high-dollar boutique after hours.) 

Inside were only a few shelves and several tables, but they were loaded with dusty, dingy, dirty stuff. Right off, I spied some super-cool, tall drinking glasses—five of them—decorated with black and gold locomotives and priced at a buck apiece. They were in great condition, gold lips and all. Score. Now, I'm sure that this pattern—from Libbey, by the way—is familiar to lots of folks, but this was the first time I had ever, ever seen it. 

I also found a single Bicentennial glass—part of a set I’m collecting for I don't know what. I was a kid in 1976, and I remember the patriotic hoopla. That might be why I have a problem passing up anything Bicentennialesque.

There was a stack of wall hangings containing two flowers and lots of butterflies—all either Burwood or Homco. They sat on a table marked "everything $1." Score again. Mama took them all. (And she took the photos below for me!)

She already owns a couple of Burwood butterflies, by the way, which she recently painted a creamy white and hung on her back porch. They belonged to her mother.

And we found a brass bamboo serving cart (dusty, like everything else) hiding under some other items. It still had its undefiled, oval, glass shelves; it was clearly mid-century; and it was priced at five bucks. Mama got it, although at this time she's not sure where in the world she'll put it.

After a half-hour or so of private shopping (during which the teenager took a short smoking break outside, God bless her), the total bill for Mama and me together amounted to right around $25. And the sweet teenager took a check! Holy moly. Remind me to stop at ill-designated and hopeless looking yard sales in the future.

After that, we visited the other five or six places open in town, but I bought nothing. (Mama did buy two more butterflies, though. I think she's planning on sharing with my sister.) The next day, my family and I drove home to Northern Virginia. And the day after that, I instinctively took off for my favorite Goodwill store a couple of miles away. (And this is where the serendipity comes in.)

There in the housewares section, on a middle shelf, sat eight mint condition (I swear, they’re mint condition) Libbey locomotive glasses—just like the ones I'd just bought. They were priced higher than those at the Spruce Pine yard sale, but no biggie.

So in a three-day period, I happened upon these 13 glasses, which I had never seen before, in two separate states. Thrift store serendipity.

I also bought at GW a Kleenex dispenser by Vendome. It has holes in the back, presumably for hanging. (Handy-dandy!) I don't really know anything about it yet, but it was so plastic and orange that, of course, I had to have it.