french press vintage: trunk show #1: the summary

This past Saturday was my first trunk show for my vintage business, French Press Vintage.

It was a learning experience, to say the least.

I spent Friday night indoors. I was to meet my lady friend J. for sushi and maybe some drinks, but I was too much of a wreck to meet up with her. So I drove to the Salvation Army and scored some great vintage finds, then I went to the Value Village (my hotspot) and the old manager flirted with me. He looks like Rip Van Winkle with horse teeth, but he is nice and he always gives me a kind word and sometimes discounts. The airconditioner is broken in the store and not many people speak English, so it was a toasty way to spend some alone time. I didn't find much there since I practically wiped them out earlier in the week. I grabbed a salad and a pack of beer from the grocery on the way home and Crystal and I worked and sweated as we did the final touches to the merch. We watched King of the Hill and decompressed. I was tired early, and nervous, so I went to bed.

Saturday we left the house early. We'd loaded our jeeps the night before so there wasn't much to do in the morning except drink coffee and try not to barf.

I always get very nervous.

We arrived at the lot where the event was to be. The air was thick, I mean thick with moisture. Gray clouds hung low and heavy and I wondered if I should just call it a day, maybe drive up to the lake and do some good thrifting, put this whole "putting myself out there" thing to rest. But Crystal said I'd come this far and why the hell would I give up now? She's pretty smart for a younger sister.

So we started to unload but we were both on edge. I'm naturally grumpy in the morning and hard to deal with in general, and she hadn't had any coffee so she was especially bitchy and sick of me. We fought and cussed by the Christian dealer lady as if we were somehow taking it out on her too. Well what the fuck do you expect me to do? Look, will you stop acting like a fucking bitch? Fuck!

She left to get coffee and she said she'd "think" about coming back. I didn't care what she was going to do, but I didn't know that things could and would get worse. I brought my dog with me that morning. She's friendly and loves people and loves to be around me. Plus I love her. I was holding her by a cheap leash when she saw another dog, something small and fluffy, and she pulled free from me and darted off. Once she realized she was free, she was gone. Across the train tracks, down the corner, into traffic on busy South Blouvard. I burst into tears as I'm running after her in my heavy vintage dress (silk slip, lacy bloomers) and cowboy boots. Thank the gods for nice strangers, as a truck immediately pulled over and the young husband darted across the busy road as the sweet wife patted my back and told me that she'd be in a tizzy too if her pup ran away. The kindness of people unknown often amazes me. Especially when it comes to my bratty run-away.

Once Teebs was back Crystal returned with coffee and bagels. I was still crying and discouraged and thought, well, fuck this. Can you hear me Christian seller lady? Fuck this. But Crystal, like the loving sister and best friend that she is, coinvinced me that is would be silly, no stupid, to give up now.

We set up and the people dribbled in. It was hot as Hades in a heat wavr, and it was tax-free weekend in the Carolinas, so everyone flips their shit and goes to the mall and Wal-mart to buy a bunch of cheap crap that they don't really need and probably won't wear often, if ever. Many friends came, some just for support, and some brought their friends along. I fell in friend-girl-love with a redhead that bought a sweet brocade vest from me. I can't remember her name.

I was disappointed because someone that I thought would come did not show. It's sad to lose friendships, especially when someone is supposed to be in your inner circle. I think about this a lot but when it comes to writing about it, especially on something so public, I can't come up with anything.

As for the actual trunk show, I learned a lot. I won't do an outdoor event again, ever. Well I won't say ever. But if I do, it will be in better weather, and with better planning. And I will give my assistant coffee and food before arriving, to avoid any bitchy fighting.

I will rent out a place, like a gallery or coffee house. I've already been working on a list of places to email tomorrow...I didn't like being outdoors even though it was in a quality area of town because I didn't like being treated like everything I've been collecting and buying and lovingly, gently keeping and admiring was just yard sale junk. This, I told people, is rare. This is vintage.

Next time I will leave the housewares at home. And the dog. And I will drink more water and not push myself to the point where I am lightheaded and driving like a drunk at 3 in the afternoon down the interstate, pulling over to throw up, finally arriving home and laying on the couch to cool my body, my heart beating, beating.

Later Crystal and I went for tacos and margaritas at our favorite Mexican place. Everything is served on Fiesta ware, which I love. Our server was a street-looking kid who was sweet as pie and talked to me about this grandmother's mole, more spicy than chocolate.

Overall it was good. Lessons learned, not just about vintage. Next on the list of to-dos is flying out to Portland, where I intend to do a lot of shopping, as well as adding to my plan of moving back in May. My life is not quiet what I expected. My show didn't go as hoped. But as I am often told, baby steps....remember to take baby steps.

Pictures

prep work.

shoe prep. my kitty loves shoes, too.

this is my backyard the day BEFORE the show. yeah. wtf.

before we realized we had more space...a lot more space. we stretched out and showed off.



I only took pictures in the beginning. Before we got into the groove. Perhaps there are some other pics from other vendors, who knows. Until next time, hombres.