Everything Old is ... still old

 I used to love going to antique malls.

I still go, but I used to enjoy it a lot more than I do now. I love the feeling of being surrounded by old timey things my mother or grandmother used to use. They bring up memories of my childhood, all warm, fuzzy, and campy.

There is nothing like a huge dose of nostalgia to make you shell out 20 bucks for a tiny bowl because your grandmother used to serve you pudding in it.

I chuckle when I see some cheap old toy I’d bought for myself at the dime store back in 1965, now priced in the double digits.

“And my mother said I wasted my allowance on a piece of crap,” I scoff. “Look at the cash I’d have made if it hadn’t gotten thrown out.”

Your average antique mall hits the sweet spot between the delicate fine art pieces at Christie’s Auction and the calcified florist vases at Goodwill.

Need to replace the Barbie head that your brother popped off and stuck in the oven? Somewhere in the antique mall is a booth displaying an array of disembodied Barbie doll heads and no one is creeped out by it.

Back in the day, antique malls played music from the 30s and 40s as I rifled through lace dresser scarves and orange reamers. Did I want to relive imprinting homemade gnocchi on a version of my Aunt Marie’s milk glass vase or did I want to serve martinis from a gilt-edged cocktail set at my next dinner party…which would also be my first dinner party?

Antique malls gave me the ability to visit that sanitized, glorified, fictionalized version of the past that makes people binge the Turner Classic Movie channel.

But something must have happened during the pandemic. When did MY stuff become the antiques?

And why are they playing Kenny Loggins?  

How am I supposed to feel a sense of nostalgia when there are entire booths of what I already have in my kitchen? Corning Ware is not an antique; it’s what I make baked ziti in.

All the useless junk I passed up at those home parties where you’re supposed to prove your friendship to the host by purchasing wall sconces or an apple peeler – they’re all there. In this I feel somewhat affirmed.

There was an entire booth dedicated to kitchen décor, specifically farm animals and green checks. That was a thing for about five years when my kids were little. Someone would have green-checked goose cannisters, someone else, green-checked chicken cannisters.

I was feeling superior, having not succumbed to trendy fashion. I put it all in plastic and that never goes out of…

…then I found the Tupperware booth. Honestly – if you ever want to know how long a couple has been married, check out the color of their Tupperware.

My last refuge was textiles. I love to rifle through old clothing, even though I’ve never gotten up the nerve to wear any of it in public. It takes a certain amount of chutzpah to pull off a vintage look.

“Look, Diane. Remember wearing these!” one lady exclaimed, pulling an item off the rack.

“Oh my god, yes,” her friend answered. “Can you believe we went out in public wearing that?”

They screamed with laughter.

I hurried to the door. Thank goodness I was wearing a coat.