The First Time. . .Priceless

I've been away from my blog for a while and held captive by doctors' appointments, drowned cars, and kids. When I wasn't looking for a replacement for our 2005 Corolla (yes, it would have lasted forever!), driving people or myself to the doctor, and getting my son back in the school groove, I was searching for Nirvana. I looked hard and long at estate sale after rummage sale for it. Maybe if I found just the right vintage handbag, life would be perfect. But for some reason, the supply of really special bags has all but dried up. So maybe finding just the right vintage fashion would give me ultimate peace. Two weeks ago I found a Bonnie Cashin raincoat. You would think that would do it. No. How about an extremely rare vintage handkerchief? That didn't do it either.

Then this week peace finally hit. It came in the form of a simple email: "I have good news. We would like to publish your book!" It was from an editor who wants to publish my picture book. MY book.

Picture me. . .happy!

Deja Vu, All Over Again

Piles of linens. Piles of blankets. Piles of spreads. Piles of clothes. Piles of tools. Piles of, well, piles. It makes you wonder when they had time to eat and sleep--or where. In the last few weeks, the estate sales have had overwhelming amounts of stuff. You could tell these folks traveled the world and their homes were filled with artifacts from their trips, but they were also filled with an abundance of everyday things--some from today and some from yesteryear. Of course, when I find the yesteryear stuff, I am like a pirate with a treasure map. The gold is here somewhere.


The treasure in one sale last month was hidden in a basement closet. The upstairs had been filled with clothes and handbags, but nothing caught my attention until I stepped inside the closet in the basement. There was a Harry Rosenfeld lunch box bag with beautiful suede sides and snakeskin stamped vinyl on top. Of course, I rescued Harry and he is home with me now.

On the writing front, I am actually working on a middle grade novel, which is interesting because I am doing it in longhand. Ever since I learned to type in high school (and actually before that), I composed at the typewriter or computer. But writing longhand was practical because of its portability. And I'm finding it very freeing. I'm crossing fingers that the story continues to flow from my ink pen.

I also had an interesting email from an actual editor asking if my picture book is still available. I'm crossing my fingers and toes that this works out. (Feel free to cross yours also, and crossing eyes can't hurt either, but don't drive that way, please.)

THE FREEDOM TO SHOP

I wonder what the Founding Fathers would think if they could visit their dear country on Independence Day 2006 and see how we mark this important day: unnecessary shopping and excessive eating and drinking. Every shopping center will be open and the thrift stores are even having sales. Hurray for independence!

I hesitate to go looking for more handbags, though, as I am having a terrible time being objective about what to keep and what to jettison. In the meantime, I'm going through some handkerchiefs and clothing that I came across while handbag hunting. It's fun to learn about different designers (like the Paganne creation pictured) and see how people are still interested in their creations 40-50 years later.

Back in the Saddle Again

I haven't actually been off the horse that long. I did write a post last week, but like so many other people's posts, when I went to save the draft--it disappeared! In a nutshell, this is what I said last week:

--"Old age is a shipwreck." (John F. Kennedy)
--My parents are old--88 and 89.
--I am a wreck.

I spent almost all of May carting the folks to doc appts. I managed to take a few days off last week to go with my husband and my son D to the Wisconsin Dells. It was nice to get away. I even managed to hit a few garage sales one day and found one handbag. Somehow I thought a small town far removed from the hustle and bustle of mega malls would have a lot more older things. Wrong! Their garage sales were as neat and orderly as any retail store and a lot of their merchandise as up-to-date. I got home last night, and did what anyone would do--got out the local Thursday paper to see if I could catch any good sales Saturday!

A couple of churches had rummage sales and I noticed an estate sale about half an hour away. The church sales were a bust so I decided to try the estate sale, even though it was the second day. The ad said the house was full.

I didn't even need a map to get to the sale--I had worked in the town years ago--so I drove right to the house. The garage was open and held a few odds and ends, but the real surprise was inside. When the ad said the house was full, it was an understatement. The woman who had lived there had shopped her life entire life, it appeared, and at good stores. This suspicion was confirmed by her former sister-in-law who went from room to room complaining about the late owner. "That woman spent all of my brother's money. She didn't have a dime until she married him. She was the most greediest (sic) person I ever knew."

The poor estate salesperson looked uneasy, as if she feared the woman expected HER to make amends for her evil sister-in-law. "I was just hired to do a job," she said. "Oh, I know," the woman said and continued to complain about her dastardly ex-s-i-l. Then there was another set of relatives-in-law (were they related to the second husband?) who were trying to buy the things no one let them have. What a mess.

In between trying to dodge the unhappy relatives, I found a fascinating collection of purses. This woman had purses for every occasion, or perhaps outfit, and many still had the tags on them and were unused. Maybe she was a selfish, evil shopping so-and-so, but I certainly had fun. The purses weren't thrift store prices, but I was willing to pay a little more for items I really wanted for my personal collection: mesh Whiting & Davis; reversible L and M handbag; brand new Corde'; a Faye Mell handbag with a beautiful carved design on the front; a Triangle bag with a lovely pastoral scene on the front; and a straw bag from Italy. This last one is made by Gladys Golden, Queen of Straws, and is an open basket with vinyl and gold trim. It's really lovely, even though I've never heard of Gladys Golden.

Today's estate sale is in sharp contrast to the one I managed to squeeze in last week. The sale last week had been in a house I was sure either had been condemned, was going to be condemned, or was going to be gutted as I walked in it. The estate crew sat in the living room, happily talking, while the few shoppers who dared brave a look crept through the house expecting a mouse or worse to jump out at any moment. Items were not piled neatly on tables or beds as they are at most estate sales--they were in heaps on the dirty floors or in the bottoms of the closets. I managed to find one purse (25 cents), which I still have out in the garage, lest a pest followed me home. At least the estate people didn't have to worry about disgruntled relatives showing up--the house didn't appear to have been lived in for 20 years, and besides, who would want this crap? I just made a vow to never attend another sale by this outfit. It was the second time I had been to a sale of theirs that was dirty. Yuck.

So in between next week's doc appts (and there is at least one every day), I'll probably be weeding out my collection and listing things on eBay. I don't want someone coming in and seeing my mass of purses 20 years from now and saying, "She was the greediest person I ever knew!"

Kiss This One Goodbye

This has nothing to do with handbags, but I feel compelled to comment on today's Cubs v. Sox game. I am a lifelong Chicago Cub fan and even through 26 years of marriage to a White Sox fan (our first date was to the old Comiskey Park), I did not convert to Soxism. Until today.

I played a lot of softball in my earlier years (even played on the U of I women's team) and have caught a few games. I can remember one game in high school where I blocked the plate, without the ball, and the runner came charging down the line, ran me over, our heads collided, she scored, and I practically saw stars. I probably had a concussion but this was in the pre-historic days when you didn't run to the doctor or search Web MD for everything so I just suffered through it.

My point is this--keeping the runner from scoring is the catcher's job. Scoring is the runner's job. When they are both doing their jobs, BAM! AJ Pierzynski was just doing his job. Michael Barrett had no right to haul off and punch him. I don't care what AJ said to him. Cubs have always been lovable losers but if they think they can fight their way out of a losing record, they've lost a fan. You can kiss this one goodbye. . .

A Sea of Red

I should be afraid--very, very afraid. As I look at the number of red handbags surrounding me in my office, it suddenly dawns on me that people might think I'm, well, that I'm a member of the Red Hat Society or some other color-centric group.

But, no. I just had a good week finding red handbags, even though my opportunities to scout have been greatly restricted by my mother's new medical appointments--physical therapy--in addition to her other appointments and everyone else's. And if you ever have gone to therapy yourself or taken someone, you know you just don't go once--you go three times a week! Needless to say, I am not doing a lot of writing right now and not a lot of hunting for bags. But Friday and Saturday were good--no one had any appointments so I was able to zoom off on my own.

The weekend's booty included four red bags in addition to several other interesting bags. Yes, FOUR! They were all shapes and eras--a 1950s handbag, a 60s small suede shoulder bag made in Italy, a hard-side patent leather shoulder bag from a division of Etra--33 East--probably from the 70s, and--best of all--a Mark Cross shoulder bag made in Italy. Wow!

As I go on my treasure hunts, it never ceases to amaze me how much "stuff" there is in this country. Our homes are miniature receiving docks where we take in all of the unnecessary things we've been convinced we need. Garage sales, church rummage sales, and thrift store donations (and now eBay) are where we Americans purge our overload.

But we continue to collect. At least a lot of us do. I recently heard a woman say, "I don't have any collections in my house." Well, goody for her. She must live alone and be very disciplined. Everyone in my house collects something: books, Ghostbusters toys, old movie scripts, pottery, clocks. The cat even had a collection of different color drinking straws that she hid under the throw rugs. Our collections give us comfort and a sense of uniqueness. Me--I'm just seeing red right now and loving it!

P.S. If anyone out there is a member of the Antique Purse Collector's Society, I'd appreciate knowing if you find the membership valuable. I'm thinking of joining, but at $25 I'd like some feedback first. Thanks!

What's in a Name?

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other word would smell as sweet."

--Spoken by Juliet to Romeo in "Romeo and Juliet"

Juliet would be lying if she lived today and said she would still love a Louis Vuitton bag just for itself, for its workmanship. It had better have that "LV" logo or the girl's not going to buy it!

The fashion world is obsessed with big-name bags: Hermes, Chanel, Judith Leiber, Gucci, and more. The bigger the name the bigger the price tag. Ordinary women and girls are even paying good money for the fabulous fakes, just to get that cherished name or logo on their arms.

That quest for the ultimate name is also present in the world of vintage bags, of course. What collector doesn't yearn for scoring an early Whiting & Davis?

But only looking for the big-names blinds you to the no-names. It's like only having crushes on the airhead, popular athletes in school and ignoring the solid, somewhat geeky guys. But this week I eschewed the big-name hunt for the no-name bags. My weekly hunt scored a few good examples of vintage bags, and my pleasure with them was not diminished the least by the fact their makers were unknown.

These "orphan" bags, as I like to call them, have everything going for them but a name. The one pictured here is a unique straw bag with a rope handle and wooden beads. It's unique for its twin sides--each side has the same lovely decorative metal twist lock, beaded flap, and inside pocket. It couldn't be any cuter if it had a well-known pedigree.

"It's Got to Sing!"

As one of the network reps of the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators (SCBWI) for my area, I spent time last week getting ready for the guest writer we had invited to speak to our group. Verla Kay is an outstanding picture book writer, with seven published books and more on the way. I expected her to be a good speaker, but I didn't know that what she had to say would speak to my handbag hobby just as much as it did to my writing.

Two rules stood out from Verla's "15 Secrets about Writing Good Picture Books" talk:

1) Be patient. It still takes Verla YEARS to get a 32-page picture book of 150 words or so written and longer to get it in print.
2) Keep revising. You're not done until each word is the right word. "It's got to sing!"

It dawned on me that I make the same mistakes with collecting as I do with my writing--I'm totally impatient and I hate to revise. My impatience leads me to waste a lot of time thinking today's going to be the day I find the perfect bag to add to my collection and then trying to make it happen. Then, I hate to go home empty handed so I buy a lot of miscellaneous bags. A lot. And because I hate to revise, I have a lot of trouble letting go of those bags that don't fit in my collection.

Verla has found a niche in writing on historical topics in short, terse verse. She has defined her writing. My collecting lacks definition and discipline. Discipline--the thing that will keep me from buying a whole bunch of designer and name-brand handbags just because they're a deal. Definition--concentrating on a decade, a manufacturer, a style. I'm not sure I'm ready to limit myself like that yet, but I do need to build the discipline to stick to the vintage bags. And no matter how much I love handbags, it just can't be a good deal--it's got to sing.

As I gather these new skills, I'll be selling the bargains that have no place in my collection that I unearthed while treasurehunting . Don't get me wrong--there's nothing wrong with Tommy Hilfiger, Reaction, Perlina, Stone Mountain, Sak--they just don't sing to me. Check out my listings on eBay (RealDealPlus) for some of the castoffs. While they don't sing to me, they sure are cute, though!

Miss Piggy Is Right

I didn't get a lot of time to treasure hunt last week, but when I did grab some time I revisited this cream and tan Kadin handbag (circa 1950s I'm guessing). I'd been eyeing it for a while and when it was still there last week, I remembered Miss Piggy's words about having a bag for all social occasion, including Everyday. I'd been using my vintage bags when I went out to church or dinner, but what about everyday? The Kadin had a cool outside pocket with a straps and turn locks to keep the pocket closed. Inside, there was a zip pocket and fabric lining in the spacious main compartment. Little brass feet kept the purse on its tiptoes. Could this be my Everyday? I bought it, brought it home and did what little clean up it needed with a little saddle soap. The outside is a nice soft vinyl that feels really nice in the hand and for some reason, it looks like spring to me. I think I'll give it a whirl.

The good thing is I may have found an everyday bag. The bad thing is that even in the short time I had, I managed to also buy two other bags, one a red paper straw bag made in the Philippines and the other a vintage hard-sided straw shoulder bag. Of course, I don't need either one of these. But if something looks the least bit different, I buy it. I figure it's better to buy it and get to know it later than not buy it and have remorse over a missed opportunity.

So the overflow bags may be heading to eBay where they can be adopted by other women in love with bags. If I only had a closet like the one Oprah is putting in the California house for Steadman's suits I could keep every single one.

I'm Not the Only One . . .

I just picked up the new Judith Miller book (no, not the NYTimes Judith Miller, the collectibles expert Judith Miller). It's called Handbags, surprisingly enough, and what's on the front cover? A red Lucite handbag. Featuring red handbags on the cover of books seems to be quite the thing. Anna Johnson's Handbags: The Power of the Purse has a red Sonia Rykiel on its cover. Claire Wilcox's A Century of Bags sports a red vintage bag on the cover. And even the Lucky Shopping Manual lets you pick your cover from different color handbags, one of which, of course, is red. So it seems I'm not the only one with a thang about red bags. If you are seriously looking for reference materials on vintage bags and not just adoring the covers, in addition to the three books mentioned above, I like Handbags (4th edition) by Roseann Ettinger. Ettinger's, Miller's and Wilcox's books each have an index, which I find helpful when doing research. I love Johnson's little book, but the lack of an index makes it a nightmare to find anything. For a list of other books on vintage bags, Li Xiuqi has a list on Amazon's Listmania. Check my Links for quick access.

Quote of the Day

"I find that it is vital to have at least one handbag for each of the ten types of social occasion: Very Formal, Not So Formal, Just a Teensy Bit Formal, Informal But Not That Informal, Every Day, Every Other Day, Day Travel, Night Travel, Theater, and Fling."

--Miss Piggy

Something Old, Something New

Welcome to Gail's Red Bag! Why the red bag? I was always drawn to red handbags and purses in the store, and I even bought one once. It was a smooth leather and bright red purse and extravagant. Was it really practical? Could you wear this with everything? I had a lot of purple clothes. Filled with doubt, I soon returned it, feeling it made me too conspicuous, especially in my conservative business environment.

But life changes. Now that I've made the transition from marketing manager to children's writer lots of things have changed. I don't shop at Lord & Taylor for my suits (what suits?) and I certainly don't buy $100 handbags. Even when I had a "good" job, I could never bring myself to splurge on a Coach bag, something I had promised myself when I made vice president. It just seemed so frivolous.

So that same practical side that wouldn't allow me to buy Coach has led me to shop at resale shops. Somehow in my trips to the stores, I fell in love with the old handbags I saw. Some were hopelessly trashed yet still had character, but some had survived the years in amazing shape. And then like shelter dogs around my friend Deborah, they started coming home with me. Deborah can't resist a new dog and I am having a hard time resisting the vintage bags. And I'm always drawn to the red ones, but today I buy and keep them!

So for me, "the red bag" is a symbol of trying something new, of making yourself a little conspicuous. I'll be using this blog to record lessons I've learned on shopping for and collecting vintage bags and sharing my finds with readers. I hope you'll find it interesting and entertaining.