The Things I Go Through for Vintage!!!!

While my last post may have sounded a little harrowing, there was a bit more to the adventure than I let on last time.

And yes, I came home with all the dresses you see here, plus a few other choice retro bits. But let's start at the beginning, shall we?

Knocking on the door of this would-be supplier, I was soon face to face with a handsome, built, & rather attractive 50 year old single guy. as I stepped into the small lounge room, a glance either side told me he wasn't kidding when he'd told me that he had heaps of stuff and needed to offload.

Every corner was filled with treasure- a table full of genie bottles, a retro velvet leopard lounge suite, a 7 foot high stack of hat boxes...you get the idea.

And this was just the lounge room- this guy is a major hoarder! Stock under the couch, in his bedroom, in both of his 2 childrens' rooms, under the house, in the kitchen cupboards, the laundry is unuseable for boxes of stock, there are 4 tents permanently set up in the yard to house furniture stock, the ceiling is literally heaving, and the crawl space under the house is truly something to behold.

As he'd found some vintage clothing under the house the previous week-just by chance mind you-I was invited to follow him into the crawl space to see if he could find it again, and to see if anything else caught my eye.

As I'd just come from spending a stressful overnighter with a bereaved friend, I was wearing shorts & t-shirt. For once I was glad of it- anything else would have been ruined during the near belly-crawl I did!

But out we came with bags full of clothing treasure- these here are what I chose to purchase.

It was quite amazing under there though! So many bags, and boxes, and bags on top of boxes....no telling what could be lying in wait. For some reason the birdcages and aummunition have stuck in my mind.

On to the backyard tent city, I perused his teetering stacks of furniture, & spied quite a few pieces he'd unknowingly bought from me. Brisbane is a small town!

Back inside, he remembered some light fittings stored up the ceiling.  Already filthy, I was in full gung-ho scavenger mode and went straight up the ladder. Greeted by a face full of ceiling batts littered with rodent dung, I gritted my teeth, told myself they were glittery fairy floss clouds, & pressed on.

After a spot of beam-jumping & couple of near-dives to grasp some 70s yellow metal light shades, an oval blue tin hat box, some dolly pegs & random rusty kitchen bits, I was home free and back down the ladder pronto. Getting in to the ceiling of a fibro house in 35 degree heat is not for the faint-hearted. Lucky it's only spring.

Once downstairs, I barely had time to wipe the sweat off and pay up before he swooped in, grabbed me and did his best to stick his tongue down my throat!!!!

Yes, I beat a rather hasty retreat. Who knows what he'd have done if I'd been looking sexy?!