An occasionally updated chronicle of estate sales in the city and suburbs of Chicago.

"It's such a guilty pleasure..." Lynne Stiefel, Pioneer Press


Friday, April 30, 2010

Mayfair Broken Home

Not every estate sale is the result of someone's demise. (Or as we like to call it here at Estate Sale Stories World HQ, "Moving to Florida.") When the occasion permits I'll ask what happened to a house's owners, and have been told everything from "bankruptcy" to "they are moving back to Iraq."

This estate sale was due to a divorce. I know because I overheard the staff talking about it in hushed, scandalous tones. The house itself was terrific -- three floors, brand new or close to it, tons of bedrooms. Plenty of space to put between you and the person you no longer want to spend the rest of your life with.

When these things happen, it's always the sectionals that get left behind.

One night he said to her, "If you bring one more tissue box cover into this house, that's it. I'm through." And he wasn't kidding.

So she turned her attention to picture frames.

This looks like the hand of a drowning man.

Upstairs was a bedroom filled with designer clothes.

This dress was by Bob Mackie, and I have to hope it looked better on than it does on the hanger.

This still had the tag on it, and had never been given a chance to sparkle.

If the kitchen is the heart of the home, it felt like this one had stopped beating a long time ago.

Then I found these. Thank goodness they didn't split up this couple.

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