This weekend, Nick and I went on a trip to Ohio to go antiquing (because we’re 80 years old). Over Saturday and Sunday we walked through two giant antique malls. If you’re thinking “just two stores? In two whole days?” don’t judge: these places are huge. So huge that they have little delis inside so you can eat and then keep shopping for a few more hours. Heart of Ohio Antique Center, the mall we went to on Sunday, was so expansive (116,000 square feet!) and confusingly laid out that any time Nick wasn’t right beside me, I was lost. If I had to go back out to the car at any point, he had to walk me to the front door.
Most of the time antiquing is like being in a museum, seeing things from way back when that are too delicate or expensive to touch, but amazing to see nonetheless. Nick and I do have a few things that we collect, and we both hit the jackpot on this trip.
Nick collects insulators (part of the reason we went out that way was for an insulator show), and vintage train set pieces for the set his family puts out at Christmas. I can’t properly ramble on over his purchases, but I will talk about mine!
The main thing I look for at these shops is anything with the Corelle Spring Blossom Pattern, and this weekend paid off. I saw the pattern everywhere, and really should have brought a list of the pieces I already have. But I found four items in particular that I didn’t have in my set yet.
Do you know how hard it is to do a dance of joy with so many expensive breakables piled high around you?
I also got that spiffy egg plate, because for my family it’s not a holiday dinner without deviled eggs.
Also pictured is a set of 45s with the soundtrack to An American in Paris (my mom will be so proud!) and a very pretty swing frame (1930s, I think).
My second favorite find is this fabulous art deco hand mirror. The silver rectangle in the middle was very lightly etched with someone’s initials, which I couldn’t make out, and a year: 1937. The mirror is solid, and heavy. One reason we like old pieces like this is because they were built to last.
And then, the pièce de résistance: a beautiful, shiny, still working typewriter from the late 1930s, with the original instructions and a handy guide for where to place your fingers on the keys. It’s a Royal Portable (what on earth about this makes it portable?) and I saw it within our first half hour at the antique mall and thought about it for hours after.
The typewriter case was open and there was a single piece of paper with it, on which many other patrons had left their mark. Someone even left her name and address. I’m tempted to send her a letter.
Even in this nostalgic haven, Ohioans (or visitors) were voicing their political opinions:
When we finally finished our round of the mall (many hours later), I went back to the typewriter and had an internal battle. I want this. What will I do with this? Do I need this? Am I going to regret it if I don’t get this? Where would we even keep it? You already know how that mental conversation ended (with some nudging from Nick).
Nick did some research on the typewriter when we got home. It turns out that it was inexpensive (for a typewriter) and in such good condition because this particular model was extremely common. I’m absolutely thrilled with it and I might just start typing out my blog posts and scanning them instead of using my laptop! Not really. But maybe.
We’re not allowed near any antique stores for a long, long time.
To all yinz Americans, get out and vote today!