thrift store spoils, ch. 1: Golden Poinsettia and mod fondue plates

Greetings, thrifters. I do believe that, this week, I was suffering from thrift store withdrawal. The family recently took a couple of weeks to head down south and, finally, to Texas, and I thrift shopped only twice (twice, I say!) during that time.

It would be so rude, after all, to make the fam sit in the car on vacation while I run in—if only just for a minute!

This week, I suppose I was trying to make up for lost time. I didn’t score much, though—not much considering how often I “stopped in for just a minute” at the usual haunts, anyway. Still.

This is the Pyrex Golden Poinsettia 2 1/2 quart casserole. When I bought it, honest to goodness, I wasn't sure that it was one of the seasonal patterns—in this case Christmas. (Now when I look at it, I say "duh.") 

But, really, I'm not into seasonal decor; I don't want to store seasonal stuff all year for, say, a day's or a month's use. I prefer to buy solid colors that'll do double/triple/what-have-you duty. For instance, my Pyrex bowl in primary green (404), can work at Christmas, in the spring, or on a lucky St. Patty's Day.

Anyhow, I brought this home (just loving the red and gold combo) and looked it up at Pyrex Passion. That's when I learned that it was seasonal. Ho. Ho. Ho. 

 

And why do I buy a single glass? I do so, because I can't pass up 1950s aqua drinking glasses or barware. Consequently, I now have a small collection of aqua blue, mid-century glasses with diverse designs and of various sizes. I'll write a special post about that odd collection at a later date.

Anyhow, this glass is by Hazel Atlas.

Another with the aqua blue. I can't find any info on who made this one, but I haven't researched much.

Yep, more aqua goodness. And, again, I've been unable to find out who made these. Any ideas?

I finally own fondue plates (inconveniently, at a time when I've promised myself to cut back on cheese consumption). I'd seen similar plates in thrift stores before, but hadn't quite caught on to what in the heck they'd be used for. 

Then I saw this (the following) recipe card in a 1972 Betty Crocker recipe set I bought at a thrift store this spring.

And it all made sense. Handy-dandy for dips and sauces!

All four plates were manufactured in Japan (as per info on tiny, shiny gold stickers that were still adhered to the backs when I bought them), but—for some odd reason—only the orange plates are imprinted with "Japan." 

I love the orange ones, because . . . well, because they're orange. And I love the Harvest Gold ones, because they remind me of my Florida Mamaw's kitchen. She had the same Harvest Gold fridge from the early 1970s when she moved to South Florida until the new millennium, I swear. 

They don't make 'em like they used to.

And I guess I need to start fonduing.

I bought this tile/trivet thingie, not only because my parents live near this mountain, but also because every time we visit, our route takes us right by it. Of course, the fam has gone all the way up the thing several of times. And I've attended a church that used to contain windows that allowed us to see the mountain during Mass. (Really nice.)

Ten years ago, I found two of these trivets/tiles in a thrift store in Mobile, Alabama. (I bought them both and gave Mama the better one, while I kept the one with the chips.) But then, just last week, I found this in a Goodwill store in Salem, Virginia. (I was just stopping in for a minute while dropping off one of the daughters for her freshman year in college. What patient girls.)

I think I'll frame it. Mamaw had a couple of tiles with birds on them, framed. They were kind of nerdy in the 1970s, I thought; but they're cool now.

I found this fun set of mugs (made in Japan and stackable, of course) in a Salvation Army thrift store. I think they're cute as can be, but I had in mind a possible future Etsy store when I purchased them. (I'm still trying to gear myself up for running a resale business . . . . )

Another sweet mug made in Japan. And another Etsy possibility.

I bought this—not only because I think it's pretty dang cute—but because I thought it was a Swanky Swig (which I also own a few of, God help me). I came home, looked in my handy-dandy Swanky Swig collector's book I bought a while back, and couldn't locate it. (Perhaps the book contains incomplete info?) It's obviously a glass that came into a home with a product in it (I swear, it looks like a Kraft pimento cheese jar!), but my research has, thus far, turned up nothing.

The last thing I'll share with you today is this Old Fashioned glass. I bought it because, not only can I not pass up aqua blue drinking glasses, but I also can't pass up cool mid-century barware in which one might serve Bourbon. 


I like Bourbon.

This glass has a signature, but, for the life of me, I can't make it out. It almost looks as if it begins with "Wm," but I'm just not sure. 

And that's it for now. 

Goodness. Where am I gonna put all of this stuff?

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.