Estate Sale Stories

One Year Later

2010-06-20T00:00:00.005-05:00

In the past year we've posted over 150 individual estate sales, from Addison to Winnetka, and welcomed over 2100 visitors from 37 countries and every state in the U.S., except Mississippi. (Draw your own conclusions.)

Thank you all for your interest, time, support, comments and encouragement. Your scraps of attention make this all worthwhile.

Evanstonaganza!

2010-06-18T00:00:00.003-05:00

We're back in Evanston, which is arguably our favorite suburb next to Skokie. Coincidentally, it also happens to literally be next to Skokie, and if that's not evidence of God's Great Plan at work in the world, I don't know what is. Why is Evanston our second-favorite, second most-visited suburb? Because of classic split-levels like this.

This indoor planter was waiting just inside the front door. Nothing says "welcome to our home" like a built-in container of dirt and/or some hastily arranged artificial plants, don't you agree?

One question: If you've been blessed with a classic mid-century split-level, why would you decorate it with curlicued gewgaws and knick-knacks from a previous century? That's like buying an iPad and then converting it to run on steam power.

The kitchen featured another classic wall oven.

This one is a Wedgewood Futura-Matic. Though the brand is easily Googled, the Internet is strangely silent regarding this particular model. (Go ahead and look it up yourself.) From the looks of that control panel it did everything but cut your meat.

Oh, yes. There's nothing I love more than a paneled den with a fireplace and a bentwood rocker.

And an incredibly loud sofa.

And a smart little Playboy After Dark bar. Tequila sunrise, anyone?

Upstairs I found some of shaggiest shag carpeting I've ever laid eyes or feet on.

It was almost capable of holding its own against the wallpaper and curtains.

Look what I found -- an "Our-Little-Girl-is-Becoming-a-Woman" starter kit!

Speaking of little girls: I think this is a portrait of Dolly Parton as a child.

That's all for now! Thanks for stopping by and have a great weekend!

Norridge Coke Den, Part 3

2010-06-16T00:00:00.000-05:00

We've got one more post from this Norridge bungalow. But this won't be another Coke-fueled romp. Because we're going down to the basement, which is another thing entirely.

And you step!

This cheery trio gave me hope that I was about to walk down into a classic Hollywood wonderland. But alas, 'twas not to be.

First up, not one but two pinball machines. Could this be the most awesomest man-cave ever?

Yup.

Finding this nearly made me weep with frustration and nostalgia.

I could picture myself enjoying long conversations in here. Or transforming into a super-hero.

Oh, Julio, you savvy shopper, you.

A full-size, full-blooded wooden Indian.

Huffer's delight!

I'm not sure if this belonged to a dentist, a barber or Sweeney Todd.

Buy. Don't buy.

Norridge Coke Den, Part 2

2010-06-14T00:00:00.000-05:00

The Coke room in this Norridge bungalow led to the kitchen, which was a shrine dedicated to cooking with Coke.

You could enjoy some Coke with your tea.

Next to this Coke wallpaper.

Beneath this Coca-Cola lamp.

While dining on these Coca-Cola dishes.

Or make a phone call on the Coke line.

Or just grab an icy cold Coca-Cola from the fridge.

Wait a second... What the hell is this doing here?

Norridge Coke Den, Part 1

2010-06-11T00:00:00.004-05:00

It looked so unassuming from the street. A Chicago bungalow, just like all the others. And even once I was inside, it took me a while to notice what was going on.

Perhaps I was blinded by the walls.

But then I began to get the impression that the former owner was, just maybe, a bit of a collector.

This room had some Coca-Cola memorabilia in it.

I remember this stuff: mix of Coca-Cola and coffee. I thought it was from the '90s, but it was actually introduced in 2006. (And disappeared in 2008.) That's a Coca-Cola popcorn box beside it. Interesting.

But that was nothing compared to this room behind the kitchen.

Looks like someone had a pretty serious habit.

The last time I saw this much Coke paraphernalia I was sitting between Liza and Halston in the VIP room of Studio 54.

They used to claim this stuff wasn't habit-forming, but that's obviously not true.

The more you have, the more you want.

Must. Have. More. Coke.

It's a sad story.

And this is where it leads.

Have a great weekend, folks! We'll be back on Monday with more from this place. (You won't believe the kitchen.) Thanks for stopping by, and keep sharing the links!

Evanston Gratitude

2010-06-09T00:00:00.003-05:00

Is it just us, or is something weird going on? One of us at ESS World HQ is totally overworked (and overwrought as well, truth be told) and the other is fresh out of a job. We just got our central computer back up and running. And now, to top it all off, our cleaning lady just quit because she "needs to limit her exposure to cleaning products." What is going on in this world?

We have a lot to be grateful for, though. We're still here, for example, and still in possession of all our stuff. By the way, that's a nice kitchen torch hiding there in the middle of all that clutter -- you pay something like $40 for those brand new at Sur la Table.

We love Thanksgiving as much as anyone. Which is to say we've always considered it to be Christmas's ugly sister. But four porcelain turkeys -- in two sizes, no less -- is a bit much even for the land of plenty. (And doesn't that cat look about ready to pounce on one?) Add the turkey napkins and you're all set for a festive festival feast!

We are grateful this image does not grace our home. Or haunt our dreams.

Who needs a pen?

No, really. Who needs a pen? We'd be grateful to get rid of a few!

Why in the hell did I take this picture? What's so funny about that concrete? I'd be grateful to know!

A Huge Find

2010-06-07T00:00:00.000-05:00

Folks, we're still putting together the pieces from our recent computer crash. So until we get everything back in place, we offer this little gem from a sale back in April.

You know what the best thing about these boomboxes was? They were portable. You could take your music with you anywhere!

Estate Sale Stories...

2010-06-04T00:00:00.000-05:00

...has encountered a bit of technical trouble. It seems our central computer -- pictured above -- somehow managed to catch a virus.

We're not exactly sure which one it was, but the symptoms suggest something between a bad case of the flu and a touch of dengue fever.

Consequently, we've spent the last few evenings nursing our equipment back to health: backing up our hard drives, scanning and cleaning, repairing Windows and generally disinfecting the scene of the crime.

Fortunately, things seem to be looking up -- though we're still definitely in ICU. And unfortunately, our adventures in health care have prevented us from putting together a post for today.

Sorry, folks. It's been that kind of a week. If you're anything like us, you might be in need of a good stiff drink. If so, why not head over to our sister blog -- Rogers Park Retro -- and pick up a recipe or two for this weekend?

Thanks for stopping by. Have a great weekend. Keep sharing the links and we'll see you (fingers crossed) on Monday.

Bellwood Trio

2010-06-02T00:00:00.000-05:00

This was the house with hundreds of copies of a kid's book-version of Jurassic Park or The Lost World. The people holding the sale insisted that everyone take a copy. I can't remember which it was because I threw mine away the moment I got home.

And strangely enough, I didn't get any photos of them. But I did snap a shot of these warming mittens, which probably make some of you sigh with envy and wonder where you could get a pair, and the rest of us just scratch our heads.

Meet me at the train station at midnight. I'll be the one in the purple trenchcoat.

That's an awful lot of padlocks, and an awful lot of keys to go with them. It makes me wonder who bought this many padlocks, and why they hung on to them. ("Who knows -- I might have an awful lot of small things to lock up some day!") If you actually had a use for them, wouldn't you store the keys in a more organized way, so actually using one of them wouldn't be an exercise in frustration? I suppose the right person could have bought this entire box for a dollar, and then had hours of puzzle-solving fun on his or her hands. Me? I took the picture, paid for my purchases and got out.

Purchased: The Waltons' Christmas Album and Don Ho, The Don Ho Christmas Album LPs, $2.

Esate Sale Stories...

2010-05-31T00:00:00.003-05:00

... is enjoying the start of summer! Here we are down at the beach and ready to ride the waves!

We'll be back on Wednesday with an all-new post. You be back then, too.

Happy Memorial Day!

Definitely Northbrook

2010-05-28T00:00:00.000-05:00

Ahhhh -- this is much more like it: a split-level with cathedral ceilings, situated on one of those curvy tree-lined streets with the peaceful-sounding names, where each house looks more Brady than the last.

Well hello, gorgeous. This is the kind of dining room where I could not only throw a fabulous dinner party, but practice my jazz dance routines and safely land small aircraft.

The first floor was unfortunately filled with people, which made picture-taking impossible. But the basement was largely unoccupied.

Hand-hooked, no doubt, and sadly unloved by all the estate salers so far. I should have bought it. But then, I should have bought a bigger house, or rented a bigger storage space, or sold my soul for more cash than I actually did.

Someone obviously had a thing for the fiber arts. And enormous gazongas.

What I don't understand is how someone could possibly stay on LSD long enough to complete something like this.

Definitely puzzling.

It's not an original Arco, but it was darned close and only $150. Yes, it was a little beat up -- in fact, the back of the shade looked like someone had shot a BB gun at it several times -- but with a little TLC and some light metalwork it would have been as good as used.

Neil Diamond: light and dark.

Now this is what I call an entryway -- something that costs a fortune to heat and cool, but looks like the lobby of a small theater from the street.

These fixtures deserve 1.) a close-up and 2.) a good home.

That's real wood paneling. In a real seventies pattern.

This is the kind of room where a woman can relax and play with her dolls.

The one on the left is a bride and I think the one on the right might be a hooker.

If I'm not mistaken, this is Prince Charles and Princess Diana, and theirs was a real happy story, too.

That's all for this week. Thanks for stopping by and keep sharing the links!

Purchased: BJ Thomas, "Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head" LP, $1.

Chicago's Newest Hoarders

2010-05-26T12:20:00.006-05:00

News outlets have been buzzing about the South Side couple who recently had to be rescued from piles of their own junk by the fire department.

It might sound funny at first, but the story has a tragic turn. But my deepest sympathies are reserved for the people who have to clean up this mess.

Amusing quote from the linked article: "There was no indication this was a house full of debris. We had no way of knowing what was inside that house."

Unless you took one look at the outside.

Definitely Not Northbrook

2010-05-26T00:00:00.000-05:00

A few weeks ago I asked if an estate sale could possibly be in Northbrook because it didn't have the look and feel of most Northbrook homes. This one doesn't either, and even though it was definitely in Northbrook, it's definitely not Northbrook.

To begin with, this was an older home. And it faced a highway, rather than being tucked away in a subdivision's winding lanes.

Those cookies look delicious. I hope the soldering iron is, too!

It was a bit dark and dingy.

I can't imagine why that intense turquoise paint didn't brighten things up more.

Or this pink.

All this attic bedroom needs to make it complete is a crazy relative. Or two.

Mom spent hours patching that carpeting together.

Des Plaines Doo-Dads

2010-05-24T00:00:00.000-05:00

This Des Plaines ranch was filled with little bits and pieces of Americana from the second half of the twentieth century. It was a treasure trove for the right person, a junk heap for anyone else.

The perfect gift for that new TGIF's waiter in your life.

For the woman with a perspiration problem and a love of vintage clothes.

For someone who just can't get enough of empty boxes.

For someone with bothersome roots. One question, though: If it kills the root, why do you have to use it once a year?

For anyone who missed the last twenty years of National Geographic.

Ideal for the wardrobe department of Mad Men.

Just the thing for weighing down that bag before you throw it into the Des Plaines River.

Something a lot of people could benefit from.

Chicago In Order

2010-05-21T00:00:00.003-05:00

Ordinarily I only post selected photos from estate sales -- generally those that lend themselves to the story or a snark I can think of without too much effort. But today I'll go through the photos from this Chicago sale in order and see what happens. Won't that be fun?

I'm sure I was taking a picture of something else and what's-his-name suddenly got in my way. Happens all the time.

The kitchen in this house was positively huge. (Not shown.)

Single file only, please. We only have one spray bottle of the Murphy Oil Soap for sale. First come, first served!

I took this photo because I recently got rid of a tub just like it. And good riddance to bad bathroom fixtures, I say!

Big-eyed child pictures. What is it about them that's so compelling? So demanding of my attention? What draws my gaze and causes my heart to swell with sympathy for the unnamed sadness that consumes them?

Beats the hell out of me.

It took several years, but eventually the chair and the sofa just agreed to disagree.

Finding one of these is always upsetting. Finding two makes me clench up all over.

Lovely magazine rack, and the random printed material hanging on to it for dear life is included in the price!

I'm old enough to remember this fad, and vaguely recall my mom and aunt making these in our kitchen. You bought the wooden "stem" (or found one in the woods and had your husband clean the bark off it with an ax, and maybe sand it down and seal it) then mixed the acrylic chemicals and colors together and poured them into molds. After they hardened you wired it all together. My mom and aunt actually made hanging lamps with theirs, and for years afterward a lighted bunch of translucent amber grapes hung over our television set.

It would have gone great with this painting.

Only the drapes and the picture remained. The green plaid sofa had managed to drive everything else away.

This one stumps me. It's kind of lovely in a lavender way. The little patches of light thrown off by the lamp add to the effect, and the plant on the chest of drawers provides just the right amount of contrasting color. If I ever publish an estate sale stories book or get my own show on Bravo -- and I have my plans, as soon as Shit My Dad Says, Shit My Kids Ruined and Awkward Family Photos stop hogging the spotlight -- this one will go in it.

Because people were pestering them, constantly, desperate to get their hands on this.

That's all. Thanks for stopping by. Have a great weekend and keep sharing the links!

So Skokie

2010-05-19T00:00:00.008-05:00

Aside from Chicago, I've made more posts from Skokie than any place else. So when I kid -- and I know I do -- it comes from a place of love. If they made an "I Heart Skokie" bumper sticker, I would tape it inside the back window of my car, but not actually stick it to the bumper.

One day mom just said "To hell with it," and went shopping.

And if this is the bathroom where she had to perform her uglies and make herself beautiful, I don't blame her.

I have no idea what a thermophore is, and I'm not going to bother looking it up. But this is the size of a petite one. (Toe of shoe shown for scale.)

This bedroom carpet looks like someone skinned a wild cat and nailed it to the floor.

According to the tag this nightgown is 80% acetate, 20% nylon and 100% flammable.

There's a mouth-watering title. I love the last one in the list. Needing a recipe for that is like needing a recipe for Scotch on the rocks.

I don't know if someone purposefully paired those two books on the bottom or if fate just brought them together.

Like the word "designer," people throw around the word "quality" way too much. If you didn't know better, you'd think designer meant ugly, and quality meant cheap.

Estate Sale Stories and the Future of Entertainment

2010-05-17T09:28:00.005-05:00

Apologies, folks, but over the weekend we got caught up in a home-electronics update at Estate Sale Stories World HQ and neglected to put together a post for you today.

You know how these things go. What you think will be a quick trip to the store and a few leisurely minutes setting things up quickly becomes a multi-hour drama complete with trips back to the store and long telephone hold times while you hope and pray some technical support person will be able to save your bacon.

I won't say it ruined our weekend. But it did ruin your Monday post.

We'll be back on Wednesday with an all-new sale. In the meantime, please consider aiding us in our drive for global domination. Pass along your favorite Estate Sale Stories to friends, family and colleagues using our handy share icons, just to the right. Post a link back to us on your own blogs and web sites. Click one of the "Funny, Cool, Interesting" buttons at the bottom of our posts, or leave a comment.

As we like to say, your scraps of attention make this all worthwhile.

Thanks for stopping by!

Oak Park Paint 'n' Plants

2010-05-14T00:00:00.004-05:00

It's ironic that I've ripped on townhouse complexes lately, because Estate Sale Stories World HQ is cleverly hidden in one. So was this sale.

Is this a first-floor entryway or the lobby of a riverboat casino?

This place had a lot of decorative painting and a lot of plants, and I'm willing to bet good money every single one was artificial.

Also, a lot of decorative accessories. Many had a Victorian flair.

This stuff is just waiting for a community theater production of Lady Windemere's Fan.

Sit. Stay.

This hanging lamp, and the vine greedily feeding on its light and energy, begins a theme.

It was sticking close to the stairs, hoping it wouldn't be noticed, like something in The Ruins.

The second floor hallway wasn't as infested.

But the bathroom, with its higher humidity, was more a favorable environment.

Hats are covered, tea parties to safaris.

You can never have too many pairs of pantyhose. Especially if you find a brand that fits and doesn't bunch up. Buy as many as you can.

Don't you go to Hell for something like this?

You could open up a really nice Italian restaurant in this place. Or at least fast-casual.

Thank you for choosing Oak Park Paint 'n' Plants! Remember Tuesdays and Wednesdays are free bruschetta nights. Tell your friends! And enjoy the rest of your weekend.

15,000 Records in Villa Park

2010-05-12T00:00:00.007-05:00

Life changed for the better in 2005. That was the summer I purchased some 200 LPs from an estate sale for the paltry sum of $5, which included a swank gold-tone record stand. They were all from the '50s and '60s, a well cared-for mix of bossa nova and cha cha, orchestras and organists and vocalists, most of which I had never heard of before.

I didn't even own a turntable at the time, but that was soon remedied at a nearby Circuit City for around $100. And since that time, my collection has grown to about 1,000 records. Which seemed like a lot, until I stepped into the garage of this Villa Park ranch.

Knowing what 1,000 records look like, I can conservatively estimate this collection at around 15,000.

There were more records here than a county courthouse.

Along with a staggering number of 45s.

It was a good thing I wasn't in a hurry, or had someone with me that day who was. Because I intended to go through every single one of them.

And of course there were gems, like this soundtrack from The Saga of the Dingbat. This all-but forgotten show from 1965 was an industrial musical sponsored by the New York Herald-Tribune. Today, copies go for around $24 and up on Amazon.com.

This 1956 album doesn't even turn up on Google Shopping, which technically makes it priceless, I suppose. And it could have been mine for $1. Once again, untold riches slip through my foolish hands.

Wikipedia lists Mickey Katz as a musician and comedian who specialized in Jewish humor. He went on to father Cabaret's Joel Grey and was grandfather to Dirty Dancing's Jennifer Grey.

Caution: Men Swinging is a big-band jazz album, though the title makes me think of something entirely different. Actual retail price: $14 and up.

As you may know, Elsa Lanchester played the Bride of Frankenstein in the movie of the same name. Obviously she went on to much, much scarier things.

I didn't buy this, and I should have, because it's very old and pre-dates the whole natural childbirth movement that really caught hold during the '90s. My only excuse is that there were so many records that this one's fantastic oddness was simply drowned in all the competition.

This record just naturally follows the one before.

And finally, this exercise album by Debbie Drake, who was the Patio Diet Cola girl back in 1963. (Which was a real thing, not made up by the writers of Mad Men, god bless their historically accurate hearts.) My parting shot: I'm not sure if those photos of Debbie are illustrating calisthenics or positions from the Kama Sutra. Possibly both.

Purchased: Carol Burnett, Carol Burnett Remembers How They Stopped the Show; Hertz Truck Rental, Music to Move Families By; three others I can no longer recall, $5.

Nothing Much In Schaumburg

2010-05-10T00:00:00.000-05:00

Just this past Saturday I spent an entire day chasing estate sales with very little to show for it in terms of photos or stories to share with you.

I suppose you could say that boring houses imply boring lives, and you might be right.

There's nothing particularly funny -- or interesting -- about somebody's devotion to one religion or another.

No one visits these sales -- or this blog, for that matter -- eager to find old televisions and broken-down furniture. And yet, sometimes that's all there is.

I drove all the way to Schaumburg for this sale, only to discover yet another bed piled high with musty afghans, faded promotional t-shirts and used linens.

You know what I just remembered? It was in a townhouse complex. Suddenly, it all makes sense.

Edgebrook Elegy

2010-05-07T00:00:00.001-05:00

You never know what's behind a house's front door. It might be grandeur, or ruins, or in the case of this Edgebrook cottage, both.

This mirrored-glass bar with matching clock was the first indication that someone had cared enough to create something special.

Because it matched the mirrored-glass stairway leading to the second floor.

Which opened onto this hallway.

That led to this master suite, with its mid-century bedroom furniture and tattered draperies.

And even though it was cluttered and run-down, a kind of elegance remained.

But it was no match for the room with shag carpeting on its walls.

And clowns.

So many clowns.

But that was just a prelude for the basement bar and its grid motif.

Where this old RCA television sat, waiting for someone to discover its faded beauty.

What once was new will some day be old.

The best you can hope for is that someone will care enough to keep you around.

Long enough for someone else to find you.

Orland Park Ordinariness

2010-05-05T00:00:00.002-05:00

Townhouse complexes dot the suburbs of Chicago, usually hidden behind grand-looking stone entrances bearing names like Royal Woods and Cherry Hills and Cove Manors.

But like most things in life, the hype is always bigger and more important than the real thing.

These are places so ordinary, you can't even get a decent photo of them.

Where even newer furniture has a drab and aged look.

And discontinued items can still, somehow, persist.

Despite the proof of their unhappy future.

Things are no brighter in the basement.

Down here, even the sparkle and magic of Christmas appears tired and worn.

Stay away from these places, if you can. Or at least avoid their estate sales.

Purchased: New KitchenAid rotary cheese grater, $1.

Flossmoor Relics

2010-05-03T00:00:00.001-05:00

Occasionally, after the kids grow up and move out, houses enter a state similar to suspended animation. New things might come in from time to time, but it's rare that something old ever goes out.

This is one reason antique hunters and ephemera junkies and misguided souls like ourselves keep going to estate sales week after week.

You find things you've only seen in photos, or not for years, or never before.

Things that maybe no one has seen for decades.

Once, in the days before our current throw-away culture, people hung on to things for years. Because they were built to last and still worked, and there was no point in wasting money on something new just because something else was old.

After all, once you find that perfect stag-in-the-woods tapestry, why keep shopping?

And even if you don't need something any more, why throw it away? You never know when someone else might need it.

In a house like this, even old batteries could have a chance at new life.

Maybe not a very safe or long-lasting life, but new nonetheless.

Mayfair Broken Home

2010-04-30T00:00:00.002-05:00

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.

Park Ridge Power House

2010-04-28T00:00:00.001-05:00

All I could think of, going through this Park Ridge McMansion that seemed to have been emptied out due to a foreclosure, is that this was the home of people who went for what they wanted -- no holds barred.

And if that meant owning an ugly, overpriced dish in the shape of a crab, so be it.

What did they care? These were people who believed in the beauty of their dreams! The power of their vision! The intoxicating scent of their own overripe ambitions!

People who probably paid top dollar for a surround-sound system, without actually knowing that it's called "surround sound."

A steady schedule of grueling workouts only added to their mastery of themselves and the people around them.

After all, they had studied the ways of personal power. They understood it. They controlled it. The world was theirs, and the universe existed solely to respond positively to their intentions!

At least until the bottom fell out. Now, the universe wants nothing to do with them.

Chicago Circus

2010-04-26T00:00:00.001-05:00

There wasn't too much interesting upstairs in this Northwest-side ranch.

I mean, I was taking photos of oatmeal and jarred gravy, sitting forlornly on the kitchen shelves, wondering what kind of a line I could write for something like this.

I found these in one of the bedrooms. I'll be darned if I know what they are, but there were three bags of them, so they must be the kind of things that you don't want to be caught without.

Po-po-po-poker rack, po-po-poker rack.

I didn't exactly have high hopes for the basement.

That is, until I saw this bar.

A finer example of late-fifties circus-inspired rec room design you're not likely to find. They literally don't make them like this any more. And that's probably a good thing.

Short and Sweet Week: 5

2010-04-23T00:00:00.000-05:00

Having seen, moves on.

Short and Sweet Week: 4

2010-04-22T00:00:00.001-05:00

The only problem with this statuette is that you constantly have to clean up after it.

Short and Sweet Week: 3

2010-04-21T00:00:00.001-05:00

When mom called these her special "get up and go" breakfast drinks, nobody got the joke.

Short and Sweet Week: 2

2010-04-20T00:00:00.001-05:00

If you think you can build a home for less than $3500, I'd say you're definitely dreaming.

Short and Sweet Week: 1

2010-04-19T00:00:00.001-05:00

I'm away on business this week and unable to devote the time to writing three full-length posts before getting on that big white bird and flying north, to Minnesota.

So instead, Monday-Friday I'll post a photo with commentary. This is the first. There will be four more.

Translated, "Kuklachev" means "scary clown with lipstick."

And yes, it's a real thing.

Northbrook or Not?

2010-04-16T00:00:00.002-05:00

My records say this estate sale was in Northbrook. But nothing about this estate sale says Northbrook to me.

The place was a lot older and more run-down than what I usually see in Northbrook.

Also, a lot more green.

I'm not kidding about that.

It was also packed -- packed -- with vintage women's clothes. Every decade from the fifties through the eighties was represented.

It almost made me wish I was a woman who was really into vintage clothes.

Or a size 10 drag queen.

Or a special nurse.

These were the only men's clothes I found, and they still had the creases from the packaging in them.

I also found this. Something tells me Don's other life didn't have much to do with a wife and three kids. Also, it looks to me like those two boys in the middle take after their dad.

Purchased: Men's vintage pajamas, $2.

The Correct Pronunciation

2010-04-15T00:00:00.000-05:00

This little guide to today's manners was found in Des Plaines.

I'm sure Luella had to tell everyone she met, "It's pronounced 'cyoo-ming'."

Deerfield House of Awkward Photos

2010-04-14T00:00:00.000-05:00

Earlier this year taking photos at estate sales suddenly became more difficult. I'm not sure why. Maybe there was more sales staff around. Maybe those staffers were more suspicious than usual of someone not tearing through the place like a tween through Justin Bieber's underwear drawer. Maybe I was just paranoid.

At any rate, for a number of weeks I skulked and snuck my way through the suburbs, trying to capture pictures without getting captured myself. Which was too bad, because this was a lovely home with many lovely vistas worth capturing.

This sunroom was big and warm, with glass on three sides. And a salesperson following closely behind me on the fourth.

The livingroom was a French provincial fantasia in pink and green, presided over by an eagle-eyed cashier who wasn't about to let me out of her sight.

This upstairs guest room was decorated in a desert palette guaranteed to encourage a night of tossing and turning, just you and your lonely guitar.

Just passing by, don't mind me!

Tell me about it.

It wasn't until I got down to the basement that I was able to find any peace and quiet. And thank goodness, because that's where I found this.

It wasn't in perfect condition, but it was a complete set and obviously authentic, with leather-covered cushions.

They wanted something like a $1000 for the whole thing, and I'm sure they could have been talked down to about half of that.

I know this, because while I was snapping these photos one of those helpful sales people came downstairs. She caught me, phone in hand, lining up a shot. "You must be interested in that," she said.

"Yes," I replied. Oh, yes. You have no idea.

Estate Sale Stories #FAIL

2010-04-11T16:58:00.004-05:00

If we're privileged enough to have you as a regular reader, you've probably been wondering just where the hell we've been the past week.

Here's what happened: On Monday I was called out of town for work, which always makes me crabby, because there's really no such thing as a convenient way to travel. On Tuesday I got sick, but flew out of O'Hare at 6:00 AM just the same, because I'm a trooper that way. On Wednesday, still crabby and sick, my flight(s) were canceled, delayed, delayed again and then canceled, leaving me to spend an unplanned night at the Armonk, NY La Quinta Inn. On Thursday, now sicker and crabbier than ever, I finally made it back to Chicago. From O'Hare I went to directly to the office, and from there, directly to my sofa, where I spent the next 12 hours in a sweet, sweet NyQuil haze.

Friday-Sunday, rinse and repeat.

Apologies for leaving the store untended. I'm still recovering, but plan on returning Wednesday with a new post. Thanks for stopping by.

Winnetka Gems

2010-04-04T11:48:00.004-05:00

This fine old house sat across the street from a golf course and was almost empty except for all the estate sale employees posted in practically every room, which made snapping photos more difficult than I like.

But the master bedroom, for some reason, was deserted. That was lucky for me, because it contained a couple of gems, presented here without further commentary. Because they just don't need it.

Exhibit A.

And Exhibit B.

Odds and Ends from Here and There: Easter Edition

2010-04-02T00:00:00.002-05:00

The original plan was to post a retro Easter picture along with a message that Estate Sale Stories was taking Good Friday off, and would "rise again" on Monday. Get it?

But you, our dozens of faithful readers worldwide, deserve better than that. And so, we present this collection of Easter goodies to brighten your springtime holiday.

This photo reminds me of Easter my freshman year of college: blurry and a little nauseating. That year, my celebration the night before was to blame. This year, I blame the Edison Park Holiday House.

What's sadder than a bunch of Christmas decorations in August? A smaller bunch of Easter decorations nearby. From the River Grove Bordello.

Scariest. Easter bunny. Ever. From the Chicago Tiki Lounge and Upstairs at the Chicago Tiki Lounge.

It's a stuffed animal orgy! And the Easter Bunny is Lucky Pierre. From the Skokie Toy Chest.

Easter finery, yours for the taking. From the Almost Empty Prospect Heights House.

And the Easter bonnets to go with them! From the Mount Prospect Doll House.

Thanks for stopping by. Have a happy Easter!

It's Always Sunny in Skokie

2010-03-31T00:00:00.003-05:00

It was a gray day when we visited this Skokie two-story ranch. But that was outside. Inside, why, it had never been sunnier!

Thanks to the G.E. SUNLAMP, you can "enjoy year 'round suntan!" And increased incidence of skin cancer! In the comfort of your own home!

Here's the back. Don't bother squinting or clicking the picture for a larger version. Here's the best part: "For all the family," says the second subhead, rather inelegantly. "Most people who can be tanned by the sun can use the G.E. SUNLAMP. You may wish you consult your physicians in some cases," it cautions, ever so blithely. "Particularly concerning babies and small children." After all, nothing looks healthier on a baby than a nice, dark tan. And premature wrinkling.

Ah, ha! Discovered in an upstairs bathroom: one of the "various fixtures and holders" designed for the G.E. SUNLAMP. Along with one of its younger siblings, apparently from the seventies.

I wasn't surprised to find it here. Everything about this bathroom was bright and sunny!

From the wallpaper.

To this cheery yellow tile vanity top.

You know what be even more awesome? If each of those yellow tiles had a little smiley face painted on it.

LaGrange Teen Angst

2010-03-29T00:00:00.002-05:00

This was a great, Brady-era house that just needed a little vision and TLC to make it sit com-ready.

They just don't build 'em like this any more, and that's a shame in my book. When I was growing up, rich kids lived in houses like this. (Ours was built in the 1920s, and from the outside looked like a large white shoebox with a front porch. It was neat and spacious, but lacked this kind of drama.)

This is a stairway and landing a girl could walk across on prom night to the whole family's oohs and aahs. Or storm up and into her room, on those occasions when one or both of her parents were ruining her entire life!

This bedroom has probably been soaked in hysterical tears.

Someone spent a lot of time depicting this old salt in needlepoint.

Santa Claus, too.

This kitten looks afraid of something. Perhaps it's the thought of being thrown in the trash.

If this house had a major flaw, it was the kitchen. It was a tiny thing, tucked into the corner of the first floor like an afterthought.

The mom didn't care about entertaining much, I guess. Or feeding her family.

The kids probably spent all their time down here anyway, dining on TV dinners and bowls of popcorn and sugar-sweetened cereal. That is, when one or both of their parents weren't absolutely ruining their lives!

Chicago Train Stop. And More Than a Cafe

2010-03-26T00:00:00.005-05:00

The only thing that might make this post more enjoyable for you is knowing that immediately after I left this sale, I inadvertently had lunch at an old-folks cafe called "Mather's: More Than a Cafe." This video will do a better, quicker job of explaining what I wandered into than I ever could.

Ordinarily when I go on these excursions, I enjoy dining at one-of-a-kind, out-of-the-way places I find along the way. It adds to the fun, and gives me a glimpse into a world outside of the standard-issue, corporate-run, hyphenated same-old-thing.

And by the way, get a load of this wallpaper.

And so, after looking at engines and tracks and tunnels and models of charming old-fashioned little towns, I went looking for a place to have a quick bite to eat.

Because I wanted something out of the ordinary, an establishment that described itself as more than a cafe struck me as just right.

It bears saying that this more than a cafe looked perfectly ordinary from the outside. There were no signs or portents that would lead me or you or anyone else to believe that this more than a cafe was as much more as it really was.

My first clue that something was amiss was the receptionist just inside the door. "Can I help you?" she asked with a pointedness I would only grasp a few moments too late. "Yeah..." I said, looking around, still not getting it. "Can I have lunch?"

Oh, and every time I see the phrase "train lover," I immediately think of some girls we used to gossip about in high school.

"Well," the receptionist said, "do you know how this works?" The sensible response would have been a simple "No," and a discreet getaway. But I was inside the door. Patrons had already turned around to greet the new arrival. It was too late to turn back. "You order at the counter," she gestured at a cafeteria line behind her, "and pick a table."

How about a nice Hawaiian Punch?

So I went in. And the very next thing I saw was an exercise class of seniors in sweats and stirrup pants, all of them stretching to their "full range of motion," as encouraged by the instructor. And more seniors beyond them, at computers around the dining area, catching up on emails and pictures of the grandkids and generally brushing up on their Internet skillz.

Isn't this floor festive?

So I ordered my meal -- a Reuben or turkey sandwich or something, I don't exactly recall -- and sat down at a table that was as out of the way as I could find, to wait for its delivery. I felt, as the ladies at Harpo used to say, like a raisin in the rice bowl.

When my sandwich finally arrived, it turned out to be fairly bland and easily chewed.

I finished my meal --along with plenty of salt and pepper -- and left without incident. Of course I did. Those seniors weren't looking for trouble any more than I was. And when I was once again outside, I'm sure we all breathed a grateful sigh of relief.

I hope they all had a good laugh at my expense. Because I've certainly had one or two at theirs.

And by the way, isn't it strange that a semi-truck would deliver the magic of Lionel trains to you?

Skokie Fun and Games

2010-03-24T00:00:00.000-05:00

Judging from our previous posts, the good people of Skokie know how to enjoy themselves. Toys, games, daring wallpaper and decorating choices... it's obvious they knew how to have a good time. Add the owners of this cozy ranch to their number.

There's nothing more fun than a rousing march.

A pretzel barrel full of golf balls. Not just fun, but wacky and practical, too. Wacktical!

As fine a collection of vintage board games as you're likely to find anywhere in the Chicago area.

I'll set up the tower, and you can be the terrorist, okay?

Can you name all 48?

I'd say a few too many have been playing this one lately. Though it does give me a great idea: the collateralized debt obligation game. Buy stuff blindly and sell it to the other players before the timer goes off and the economy goes into the shitter!

Awww. Who needs a hug?

Talk about your sense of fun. I love the fact that somebody very cleverly added an "s" to "husband." Who knows how many hen-pecked men lived here at one time? Or what kind of black widow presided over their every coming and going?

Estate Sale Stories...

2010-03-22T09:38:00.002-05:00

... forgot today was Monday. Our apologies to you, the loyal reader.

We'll be back on Wednesday with a new post and our act generally more together.

Thanks for stopping by.

Des Plaines in Bloom

2010-03-19T00:00:00.001-05:00

Spring is almost here! In honor of its imminent arrival we're offering up this tiny Des Plaines ranch with a garden's worth of blooms inside.

But first, there's something about old ovens that brings out the June Cleaver in me. This is a Chambers "Custom Gas" model, a brand I've never heard of. A little Internet research shows that it was reintroduced in 2007 to little fanfare, and apparently no longer exists.

It was found in this kitchen, where the wallpaper matched the drapes, which match my nightmares.

We'll move along in a moment. But first, I thought I'd rub your nose in this just a bit longer.

Okay, that's enough.

No it's not.

And... cut to the sun room.

I don't know what I like better. The upholstery on the rattan furniture.

Or these Dukes of Hazzard serving trays on the sofa. (Combined retail value on Ebay: $30-$60.)

Or these TV trays nearby.

You don't run across items like this every day on the estate sale circuit. Honestly, to me, this is beautiful and hideous at the same time. It's like meeting someone who's unattractive but really good in bed.

Okay, one more and done: This is not the first time I've found one of these.

Odds and Ends from Here and There: Green Things

2010-03-17T00:00:00.002-05:00

St. Patrick's Day is right up there with World Religion Day and National Hobby Month as far as holidays go. But people seem to like it, and Lord knows we need something to celebrate this time of year, so here we go.

We'll start with this Richard Simmons DVD, because he's always good for an easy joke and we could probably all stand to lose a few pounds.

Moving right along. I miss these phones, along with those orthopedic-looking shoulder braces. This one looks like it would happily put an eye out if you were unlucky enough to aim it in the wrong direction.

I wish I could have taken this trio home with me. They would have gone perfectly with that phone above.

Faithful readers of this blog have already seen this photo. It's hard to believe toilet paper used to come in a rainbow of pastel colors, and with roses and flowers printed on it, too. It's true: the past really was a more elegant and civilized time.

I'm sure this is still perfectly fine to use.

I wanted this picture for my office, but I was afraid it would send the wrong message to management.

Two of these trolls are dressed for the wrong holiday.

How to raise an envious little girl.

The only things this walker is missing are some streamers for the handlebars and a couple rear-view mirrors.

Never paint a room this color. This color is reserved for hospital emergency rooms and that place where the school janitor waits until class is over.

Thanks for stopping by. May your St. Patrick's Day be green!

Northbrook Eighties Damage

2010-03-15T00:00:00.002-05:00

This was one of those big, beautiful North Shore homes that was lovingly decorated when it was built... and then allowed to stand, unchanged, as a testament to its time.

However, as the realtors like to say, it had good bones.

It's decor savings time. Please set your watches back to 1989.

Wow.

Double wow.

That's a genuine pink and gray marble faux-finish on those walls. I'd like to say that the owners of this house were hoarding the eighties. Or were eighties hoarders. Because "hoarding" and "hoarders" have turned out to be very popular Google search terms and they bring in a fair amount of traffic week after week. But I won't.

The basement had everything you'd need to keep the kids at home and just saying no.

Who's up for a Jazzercise routine?

It was $1395 and, according to the sign, worked great.

The Donald would be so proud.

To find the master bedroom, just go up the stairs and back in time about twenty years.

There are a lot of things I'd change about this bedroom, but these nightstands are not one of them.

Neither are these built-ins.

Found in one of the built-ins' bottom drawers. This is one of those pictures that's worth a thousand words, many of them unprintable in this blog.

Another bedroom, with an artistic interpretation of the stock market during the "greed is good" decade on the walls.

I'd like to tell you this is wallpaper...

... but it's not. Someone went to quite a bit of trouble and expense to paint this on the walls.

This house is one of the many reasons I love Northbrook.

It can also buy updated decor. Just sayin'.

Glencoe Grandeur

2010-03-12T00:00:00.000-06:00

The rich are different, and aside from the necessity of attending to bodily functions, I'm convinced they live on an entirely different plane than the rest of us mere mortals. Case in point, this Glencoe home and its many fine appointments.

Even the humblest breakfast of toast and coffee would somehow be more nutritious and energizing when enjoyed in this pleasant nook.

Just the sight of these bunnies and snails and melons adorning your chairs would make the sun shine brighter and the birds sing sweeter.

When life is this good, one copy of The Frugal Gourmet is simply not enough.

No matter the weather, this sun room has never seen a rainy day.

You could hang anything over your mantle with total confidence.

Going up or down, this staircase guarantees a grand entrance. And exit.

It's a long, leisurely walk down this hallway. You'll probably burn hundreds of calories along the way.

Oh, um, uh, er. What's this? A dark, ugly corner? Well, moving right along.

Ah, that's better. You could do anything at this desk. Write the next Twilight or Gone With the Wind, create another Microsoft or Google...

... even revive an e-consultancy that's been left for dead.

Everyone -- and I mean everyone -- looks prettier in this mirror.

And at the end of a long day you could curl up in that pretty little prom dress and rest your weary self on top of what surely is the softest -- yet at the same time, firmest -- mattress in the world, safe in the knowledge that all your dreams would be good, and that every one would come true.

Upstairs at the Chicago Tiki Lounge

2010-03-10T00:00:00.002-06:00

Back in November we posted a sale entitled Chicago Tiki Lounge, which was an enormous hit amongst our readers the world over. You no doubt remember all the excitement and hub-bub surrounding that story, and continue to comment about it with your friends and family to this very day. But there was more to that unassuming north side four-square home than its blast-from-the-past South Pacific-style basement bar.

There were stacks of commemorative plates from the Franklin Mint or the Bradford Exchange or one of those other shady companies that shamelessly peddle these things on late-night TV as investment-quality items. Let this be a lesson to all of you as you approach your golden years: this is what becomes of them. They sit unwanted, even at pennies on the dollar. You might as well throw your retirement funds into the street. Or write a nice check made out to Estate Sale Stories.

In keeping with the Pacific islands theme, there was also a room filled with seashells, all of them neatly cataloged and categorized for use. Use in what?

I'm so glad you asked.

I spend a lot of time on this blog railing against wallpaper, but this -- found in an upstairs bedroom -- kind of made me swoon a little. It's clever. It didn't necessarily look real, but that didn't necessarily detract from its charms, either.

That's also where I found this. I imagine resting your tired dogs on top of this after a long day waiting tables or standing behind a sales counter would be a relaxing and rejuvenating experience, provided that it didn't electrocute you.

Oh, look. More seashell crafts. On a personal note, I've always liked this shot and the way that gown is captured in the mirror. It satisfies the amateur photographer in me.

If you have a tiki bar in your basement, it's pretty much a given you're going to have a jacket like this in your closet. It's just the natural order of things.

More wallpaper, this time with cherubs.

And when you have wallpaper like that, a switchplate like this probably qualifies as one of the great lucky finds of your life. That, too, is the natural order of things, and no doubt proof of God's great plan at work.

Mount Prospect Multimedia

2010-03-08T00:00:00.000-06:00

The best thing about this Mount Prospect ranch -- aside from the fact that it was another great suburban ranch -- is all the great old media choices they still had hanging around.

What do I enjoy more than finding a collection of old LPs and the console stereo that used to to play them? Finding the console stereo up and running. Especially when there's a Steve and Eydie album playing.

This one had seen many an evening of home entertainment, and quite possibly some better days. Because the belt was slipping on this model, which made Eydie sound something more like a red-breasted warbler and not her usual song-belting self.

However, that shouldn't stop you or me from admiring a simpler technology from a gentler time.

This great reel-to-reel recorder/player was in a nearby closet. You can tell that it was portable, because it came in a suitcase. You could conveniently take it anywhere!

There's just something funny to me about a tissue box that says, "Welcome." It's like someone wanted you to know that in this house, it was perfectly okay if you needed to blow your nose.

Nice dining room.

Something about this set-up just makes me want to sit down and get to work on the Great American Novel.

With those angels flanking the title, something tells me the Money Miracle involves a lot of praying to be rich.

"New" is, of course, a relative term. I wonder what Ms. Post would say about Estate Sale Stories?

ESS Greatest Hits: Melrose Park Chinese Garden, Part 1

2010-03-05T00:00:00.004-06:00

While Estate Sale Stories is soaking up some sun and tequila, we're rerunning some of our favorite posts from the past. We'll be back on Monday, March 8 with new posts. Thanks for stopping by!

This was the home of a woman who loved flowers. All kinds. The mysteries of the Orient. Pink and aqua, purple and yellow. Things with a bit of flash and pizazz. Or a lot.

This was the home of a woman who didn't believe in dialing things back.

Here's the kitchen. The appliances -- a cooktop and separate wall oven from the '50s or '60s -- were pink. The refrigerator was newer, but I'm willing to bet the original was also pink. On sunny mornings, I'm sure this room glowed.

This chair was in the kitchen, too. I don't think it lived there, but had been brought up from the basement for the sale.

Speaking of the basement, let's take a look.

The house was a split level. This is the first lower floor, and it held quite a few treasures.

I wish I had space for this, and a spare $250. It was in great shape and worth every penny.

This exuberant duo sat right across from the buffet. There's something very current about them right now. In the proper setting, they could be focal points and conversation starters.

Especially when paired with the matching lamp.

This is when the flowers caught my eye.

There were a lot of them. And all priced to move at $1.00.

I found this on one of the tables nearby. I can't decide if it's ugly, offensive, or both. The back said "Bowen Coolie (c)1963." The company is still around, and has since graduated to comic-book character figurines.

A second set of stairs led to the basement.

There was plenty of room down here, and a couple interesting finds. I found a good-sized wet bar at the far left end, with several stacks of books around it. Among them, Female Sexual Slavery by Kathleen Barry. Books tell a lot about the person who owned them. This one said quite a bit.

Also on the left, just behind the bar, was a second kitchen. It was the second home I'd seen with one today.

View #1. It had everything but a dishwasher.

View #2. Not in great shape, but not because it was used a lot. As a matter of fact, I was getting the impression the former owner wasn't much of a cook at all.

This looks like something you'd see on the set of a community theater production of Sweeney Todd, but had once been a pretty sharp wall oven. What's the deal with the second, downstairs kitchen? All I can guess is that people used to entertain a lot in their homes -- that would explain all the wet bars in homes built in the '50s and '60s -- and the second kitchen downstairs made those swank dinner and cocktail parties easier to host.

On to the second floor in part 2.

ESS Greatest Hits: Lincolnwood Dream Home

2010-03-03T00:00:00.003-06:00

While Estate Sale Stories is doing the Mexican hat dance, we're rerunning some of our favorite posts from the past. We'll be back on Monday, March 8 with new posts. Thanks for stopping by!

A lot of the furniture wasn't exactly my taste, but everything else about this '60s Lincolnwood split-level made me fall in love.

Hey there, living room. I'm not really the type to rush things. But what do you say we ditch those stuffy Italianate reproductions and heavy drapes? I think we were made for each other.

Let's go down to the rumpus room and relax. We could watch a movie -- or two -- or just spend hours gazing at one another beneath the recessed lights.

Don't go anywhere. I'll put some Burt Bacharach records on the hi-fi and be right back.

Why don't I mix us a couple drinks while you slip into something more comfortable, like fresh barware and some cute Room & Board barstools?

Let's go upstairs to the bedroom, and get you out of those lamps and curtains. Shhh. I know it's been a long time. But I'll be good to you.

I want to wake up with you in the morning. We could take a shower together. I'd really like that.

What a coincidence. I love John Travolta, Donny Osmond, Robert Redford and Carol Burnett, too. See, I told you we belonged together.

ESS Greatest Hits: Crumbling Winnetka Colonial

2010-03-01T00:00:00.000-06:00

While Estate Sale Stories is enjoying a little siesta, we're rerunning some of our favorite posts from the past. We'll be back on Monday, March 8 with new posts. Thanks for stopping by!

Who knows if houses can actually be haunted? What I do know is that some houses are certainly haunting. This one is proof.

Just walking up the circular drive I could tell it had seen better days, and that those days were somewhere in the distant past. Bricks were stripped of paint, the mortar worn away by who knows how many storms. The roof was rough and patchy. The front porch sagged. Inside I found a rambling mansion frozen in time, except for all the decay.

Somehow, parts of the main floor had managed to maintain a bit of their grandeur. This sun room still seemed welcoming despite all the dust and dirt.

Contrary to most older homes, the kitchen was actually one of the nicer rooms. Of all of them, it looked like it had been decorated most recently -- about forty years ago.

Two service kitchens occupied the space leading toward the dining room. The second had a wet bar, shown above. The dining room itself was generous, and I got the impression that someone had enjoyed hosting parties and celebrations here, once upon a time.

The glassware was another clue that entertaining had been a favorite activity. It was everywhere. Lined up in open cupboards...

... on counter tops...

... and tables.

The public spaces downstairs also included a formal living room with a grand piano, and a clubby, wood-paneled den. I could imagine a family watching TV there, or gathered around the game table.

The private spaces upstairs told a different story. Three main hallways cut through the second floor, and each one had several rooms off of it.

This suite -- with a sitting, dressing and bedroom -- was the strangest. It must have belonged to the lady of the house. I don't know what was more upsetting: the extreme wear and tear, all the personal items she'd left behind, or the fact that her presence was still so strong.

Here's the sitting room. I bet she read here at night, before going to bed, and planned the parties for downstairs during the day.

The sitting room again, from the opposite angle. All the clutter and mess of an estate sale didn't do this room any favors, but even if it had been in perfect order, the sense of decline was still evident.

There was water damage everywhere, and the carpet was so badly worn I could see the backing. Even that was pretty threadbare.

Here's the dressing room. The closet behind me was enormous, and oddly empty.

Pictures of children -- probably from fifty years ago -- still hung on the bedroom walls. Family pictures are a rarity at estate sales. Survivors almost always take them. Wherever these kids are, I bet it's far away.

The house had seven bathrooms, and all were out of order.

While I was upstairs I overheard two people talking about the woman who'd lived here. She'd been alone for many years, and after a while stopped letting anyone into the house. That's a sad end for someone who'd once enjoyed entertaining so much.

Apparently she spent her time putting together jigsaw puzzles. They filled one room.

And tending an extensive and well-organized collection of seashells.

This is the library. There weren't many current books on the shelves, which added to that frozen-in-time feeling.

This is the view from one of the upstairs windows, looking out onto the back yard. In contrast to the rest of the place, it seemed very well maintained.

There was a basement, too. About halfway down these stairs the smell of mold became overpowering.

The room at the bottom was painted dark blue, and reminded me of that basement in The Silence of the Lambs. Just beyond that doorway was a second, even stranger room.

I didn't know what to make of it. It was situated in the deepest part of the basement. The red ceiling definitely gave it a sinister feeling. But it was also well-appointed, with a fireplace and built-in bookshelves.

And this elaborate, incongruous mural on one wall.

Earlier, when I'd been in the den, I'd found an LP that looked interesting, and I carried it with me through the rest of my tour. But I put it back before leaving. I just didn't want to bring anything home with me from this place.

We've Made a Run for the Border

2010-02-27T00:00:00.003-06:00

Because Chicago winters are long and cold and have a knack for sapping the spirit, we've generously given the staff at Estate Sale Stories World HQ the week off for a fabulous Mexico vacation.

Does that mean we're leaving you, our faithful readers, out in the cold? No way, Jose. Join us for a look back at some of our favorite posts from the past that we're calling "ESS Greatest Hits," for want of a better name.

We'll be back tanned, rested and with all-new Estate Sale Stories on Monday, March 8. Adios!

An Assortment in Addison

2010-02-26T00:00:00.002-06:00

To quote the friend who accompanied me on this day, "Addison is a place that suffers from poor zoning." It's true. Strip malls abut playgrounds, factories sit across the street from private homes. There's a little bit of everything here, and it's all smooshed together.

Kind of like this place.

Every time I see this photo all I can think of is those chickens pecking at the crumbs that fell from the table of The Last Supper.

Possibly the most awkward-looking bathroom I've ever seen. That's a stackable washer/dryer in the back with its ass hanging out.

I don't know who lived here, but I bet she was a master of disguise.

No, I didn't buy it. Yes, I am a fool.

With all those signs to read as you're going down the stairs, it's a wonder there's not a pile of bodies at the bottom of them.

This velvet painting celebrates the athleticism and majesty of one of Spain's greatest sport: killing animals for show.

Nothing brightens up a dreary basement bedroom like leopard print.

The more, the better.

Found on the refrigerator.

I wonder whose mattress this was found under? Also, I don't like to boast, but I got this $6 value for just a quarter. (And for the record, it is filthy.)

I think I read this one when it was published under its original title, I Kissed a Whore.

Purchased: Two Novels of Lust, $.25.

Niles 1950-1970s Three-Flat

2010-02-24T00:00:00.003-06:00

It wasn't that long ago we were last in Niles, but it's never too early to return to this north-side suburb where the fifties, sixties and seventies still live.

This sign isn't the only thing about this post that's haff-assed. I had a smudge on my camera lens that you're sure to notice as we go along.

Oh, my.

You don't see these big console hi-fis so much any more, but this one was a fantastic specimen.

This must have been top-of-the-line once upon a time. Solid state, AM/FM/FM stereo (I thought FM was always stereo), phono console and an 8-track tape player/recorder (I didn't even know you could record on 8-tracks). I love that they still had the owner's manual for this baby, some 30-40 years later, and that it came from Montgomery Ward.

After this was delivered, I'm sure someone complained about how complicated it was. "I just want to listen to Paul Harvey in the morning before work. What do I need with all those dials and controls?"

"It's easy, ma. You just pop in one of these 8-tracks and that's it."

"Unless Paul Harvey is on those '8-tracks' I could care less. Just show me how to turn on the radio."

In the kitchen I found this built-in clock, which is quite a beauty. I'd never seen one before, but a few weeks later I saw another one at a sale in Westchester.

This was the extent of the liquor cabinet.

Which explained why this E-Z Read Jigger was still in its packaging.

Just as I was about to leave I saw a display case with some old photos in it. I usually don't bother with this sort of thing, but these -- for obvious reasons -- caught my eye. Let's take a closer look.

What is it about gas masks -- especially the WWI-era versions -- that's so creepy?

The clothes, the pose, that room, those glassy eyes staring straight into the camera... this picture is going to give me nightmares.

Thanks, grandfather!

Purchased: E-Z Read Jigger, $.50.

Rare River North Condominium

2010-02-22T00:00:00.000-06:00

It's not every weekend that a downtown Chicago high-rise hosts an estate sale. So it was imperative -- parking problems and all -- that I see this one.

I blame '70s-era sit-coms for the belief that high-rise apartments are spacious, and that each one comes with a live studio audience and laugh-track.

The reality is usually much more cramped and down-to-earth, regardless of how many floors up you might find yourself.

This walk-in closet, for example, was probably one of the larger rooms in the place.

These were found close by, and made me pause for just a moment. St. Patrick's Day is coming up, after all.

It looks like a whole bunch of junk just decided to curl up on this futon and take a nap.

This collection of books was stacked nearby on the floor. Usually you can tell a lot about a person just by looking at their books, but these didn't really say much to me.

This one, however, kind of spoke volumes.

Maywood Warehouse

2010-02-19T00:00:00.002-06:00

They called this an estate sale, but I think that's because they knew estate sales have become popular and they were hoping to lure in unsuspecting shoppers, like me.

For this reason, I almost didn't go in.

But it was way down on the South Side, and I'd already driven there, so I figured, why not? It was a once-in-a-lifetime chance, right? Who knew what I might find?

It was one of the more unusual places I've ever been in.

There were antiques and old furniture everywhere.

Only not all of them were for sale.

The sale itself was way back in the back, in this series of rooms filled with all kinds of stuff.

They had your wooden chair needs covered.

There was some really nice old stuff.

And some not-so-nice, not-so-old stuff.

Also, many naked-lady pictures, all of them painted by the same artist.

The first time I saw one of these I thought I'd lucked onto something really rare and valuable. Turns out you can find them just about everywhere.

This qualified as my "bizarro find" of the day. I'm not sure what it is. All I know is that if I hadn't ventured in here, you and I never would have seen it.

Des Plaines General Store

2010-02-17T00:00:00.001-06:00

This was another of those estate sales with a line to wait in, which is something I usually don't do. But the last one was so successful I figured that, maybe, this one would be something out of the ordinary, too.

This was a room full of women's shoes. The story goes that the man who used to live here had always wanted to open a store.

He embarked upon this dream -- which is in no way outrageous or mock-worthy -- by collecting lots of merchandise from here and there.

Some of it -- like the women's shoes -- was new. Some, not-so.

Apparently, he'd stocked the house with it.

And the garage. Those are sleeping bags up there on the top shelf. Dozens of them.

I'm not sure exactly what sort of store it was going to be.

There was a lot of hardware.

Including this bin of assorted hammers.

And handsaws.

There were a lot of antiques, too.

The kind of things I hadn't seen since the last time I watched Brazil.

The only problem was, he never actually opened the store.

But here's the irony: in a way, his dream kind of came true. Only he wasn't there to see it.

A Valentine Arrives

2010-02-15T00:00:00.000-06:00

The following message recently arrived at Estate Sale Stories World HQ from a generous reader named Larry:

Estates Sales Stories is my all time favorite blog. I've read a metric-shit-ton of blogs over the last 15 years or so, and this is the first one that I consider MUST READ.

My folks were antiquers (and eventually auctioneers) back in the 70s and 80s and we went to auctions all over the Midwest. As much as I hated being stuck in the truck with my weirdo parents all day long, I loved foraging through people's stuff. They even let me bid on stuff now and then.

Keep up the good work.

Thanks, Larry for your great message. You not only made our Valentine's Day, but the entire month of February. Let's go... estate saling together!

North Riverside Marine Barracks

2010-02-12T00:00:00.003-06:00

Our veterans should be proud of their service to our country. Just maybe not this proud.

At first, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. In fact, I toured the entire first floor and didn't notice a thing.

It wasn't until I got to the basement -- and into that little tool room/man cave back there on the left -- that a theme emerged.

At the time I took this photo, I still hadn't caught on to what made this place unique.

But then I looked up and, as is sometimes the case, it hit me.

After that, it became a treasure hunt.

Where would I find the next item of Marine memorabilia?

What shape might it be in?

Would it be right out in the open?

Or hiding in the most unlikely of places?

Would it be hard and shiny?

Or as huggable as your old stuffed bear?

Would it be sugar-coated?

Or vaguely menacing?

Answer: All of the above.

A Robbery in Portage Park

2010-02-10T00:00:00.003-06:00

I was robbed of the one thing in this Portage Park house I thought was worth having.

It was a drab and dreary place that bore the marks of several amateur renovations.

There wasn't a lot of stuff left behind, and what was there wasn't very interesting.

Plus, the sale was presided over by a busybody who insisted on hovering over me like I was black and this place was Tiffany's.

She would disappear for a while, only to swoop back in a few moments later from another direction.

Naturally, she caught me snapping photos.

And she wanted to know, "Why are you taking pictures?"

Fortunately, I have a few cover stories ready for occasions such as this, and fed one to her.

I finally went up to the attic, hoping she wouldn't follow.

It was just as sad as everything else. I'd like to think a baby didn't really sleep up here, but it seemed entirely possible. There are blankets still in that crib, after all.

But at least there were some books. I always check out the books.

That's where I found this: a practical field guide and checklist for homicide investigations. It was packed with procedures and guidelines and all kinds of juicy stuff I was sure civilians and mere mortals never get to see. And it was going to be mine.

I took it downstairs to pay for it and get out. But before I could reach the cashier, the busybody reappeared and snatched it out of my hand. All she said was "That's not for sale." Then she -- and my great find -- were gone.

At the time I was outraged. But it turns out the book can be bought on Amazon for about $10. So there.

Justice has been served.

Estate Sale Stories...

2010-02-08T00:00:00.004-06:00

... watched the big game. Didn't you?

We'll be back on Wednesday after a shower and a shave.

The image above and many, many, many more are from the terrific blog 70s-child.blogspot.com.

Estate Sale Stories recommends Retro Junk for all your retro junk needs.

For the Love of Lincolnwood

2010-02-05T00:00:00.003-06:00

There's something about Lincolnwood. The home styles and people who settled in this northern suburb, and the position of the stars and planets when it was founded, have combined to produce a destination that always delights. Me, at least.

Where else are you going to find an oven/cooktop combo like this -- in near showroom-condition -- outside of a museum or old manufacturer's catalog or 1950's industrial film about the Kitchen of Tomorrow?

I like it so much, in fact, that I'm going to let this pass by without comment.

They were just $8. I don't need any more glassware, and I certainly don't have any place to store these, but Heaven only knows why I let simple practicalities like that stand in my way. They were, after all, from Lincolnwood!

There was a contentious mix of traditional and mod at work here, with each style retreating to their separate spaces. The public areas, like this living room, were pretty staid, aside from the pink paint that coats and soothes the walls.

But upstairs, there was this. I overheard the estate sale workers refer to it as "the crystal room."

It made perfect sense.

And not just because of all the crystal on the shelves.

I don't know whose fortress of solitude this was.

But I have to applaud the '70s-sci-fi-meets-'80s-Miami look going on here. Where else but Lincolnwood?

The basement was another area where someone let their freak flag fly back in the late '60s or early '70s.

We've got a few stops to make and then we're done.

You know the new owners are going to tear this down, send it to a landfill, and tell stories about it for as long as they live here.

The love of Lincolnwood, I'd say!

It looks like a little love is being spoken here, too.

This is the perfect TV to hook up to your Atari Pong home console.

Imagine, for just a moment, the crowds that once gathered around the delicious warmth of these matching fondue sets' Sterno flames. Thank you, Lincolnwood, for the memories!

The Edgebrook Playhouse

2010-02-03T00:00:00.005-06:00

Mom and the girls had such great fun in this Edgebrook house. The crafts and costumes and pretend-time never ended.

For the girls' sake, let's hope that's not mom.

It was, for the most part, a nice place. I'm hoping they moved because mom's book finally sold after a massive bidding war among the big publishing houses and she can finally afford that ocean-side compound with the guest house in Malibu/South Beach/fill-in-the-blank.

This upstairs bedroom sort of amused me.

Because these are the most awesome feather-boa curtains I've ever seen. I bet the purple suede jacket saw these and just about died.

On the other hand, Iris was not impressed with the glassware selection.

This crafts room was a nice touch -- with an extensive selection of craft supplies for sale.

I bet these razors were waiting for just the right time to introduce the girls to the wonder and joy of shaving their legs.

Wait'll you see what's in the basement.

Oh my god! How'd that get down here?

Pick your holiday -- and name your price!

Based on all the Easter decorations, these people were either Christian or the The Most Reformed Jews Ever.

Sometimes I feel like this about Christmas.

And sometimes I feel like this.

Somewhere in Heaven, an angel is missing its wings.

Who's up for a production of Oklahoma! and Guys and Dolls?

If you're going to work out on the Nordic Track and play the electric keyboard at the same time, you're going to need that mattress when one or the other ends up bucking you off.

We're done here. Let's head back upstairs.

Aaagh! It's the return of the purple people eater!

Despite the placement of that sign, I'm pretty sure the way out is not up those stairs.

Media Spotlight!

2010-02-02T16:37:00.009-06:00

Nothing quite compares to the warm glow of media attention. Even if it is brief, and two weeks in the past.

However, last month, Pioneer Press ran the following bit in their "North Shore Notebook" blog.

------------------------------------------------

For sale: Glenview house that time forgot
by Lynne Stiefel
on January 20, 2010 3:17 PM

A blog about estate sales -- aptly named "Estate Sale Stories" -- today featured a Glenview split-level that "combined two great American obsessions: politics and the pursuit of pleasure."

It's such a guilty pleasure you forget you're electronically tramping through someone else's things.

------------------------------------------------

"It's such a guilty pleasure..."
--Pioneer Press

If this blog were a movie, that's a quote that would go on the poster. But it's not. So instead, I'm putting it right below the masthead.

Skokie Museum of Unfortunate Art

2010-02-01T00:00:00.001-06:00

Our suburban neighbors to the north and west are an interesting bunch with an appreciation for mid-century architecture, art and design. And, occasionally, the odd. Whenever there's an estate sale in Skokie, I consider it a must-see stop on my weekly explorations.

I don't know if that winged egg/RV is a piece of artwork or something mom and dad used to convince the kids that camping really isn't that much fun after all.

Either way, it's worth a closer look, because I' never seen anything like it before, and probably won't see it again, barring its reappearance at someone else's estate sale.

This must be where the Goth twins slept.

Get in, do your business, and get out, because the walls are closing in.

Mom could put in a few miles on the treadmill, relax and watch her afternoon soaps, and turn in for a well-deserved night's sleep -- all without ever leaving this room or speaking to another living soul.

Down in the basement I found what is either the world's saddest guest room, or the place where mismatched twin beds go to die.

This one looks like someone decided to paint with a used diaper.

If it looks like Monday, and feels like Monday, it must be about Monday.

Although I'm a fan of Ivan Albright, his work does have a tendency to scare small children.

Tuesday.

His Honor was not amused.

I see this with that index card there and just cringe.

An Even, and Odd, One Hundred

2010-01-29T09:00:00.004-06:00

Our Viva la Niles! sale, below, is the 100th post to make its appearance here at Estate Sale Stories.

Whether you've joined us for one post, all hundred, or somewhere in between, you have our most sincere and non-sarcastic thanks. Remember, your scraps of attention make this all worthwhile!

Viva la Niles!

2010-01-29T00:00:00.002-06:00

I love Niles. Not only is it uber-convenient to Estate Sale Stories World HQ in Rogers Park, but it's one of those '60s-'70s suburbs that almost everyone else turns their nose up at. But behind those front doors with their geometric cutouts live some of the swingingest swingers there ever was.

The moment I walked in, I dropped my keys in the first bowl I saw.

I can just picture myself relaxing here after a long day at the office, a tequila sunrise in one hand and a Benson & Hedges Menthol Ultra-Light 120 in the other, waiting patiently for our nation's Bicentennial to arrive.

The view from there certainly is... overwhelming. You better know down deep in your heart those mirror tiles are going to look kick-ass when you put them up, because it's going to take a sledgehammer, a hazmat suit and a mess of stitches in the emergency room to get them down.

Is there a rumpus room downstairs? You bet your subscription to Penthouse Forum there is!

There's a bit of Vegas excitement waiting as well.

I'm not arguing with this slogan, but I can't imagine anything less creative than playing slots. I mean, isn't that what zombies do when they're not dining on human flesh?

In the morning, after a long night of slots and party games with the neighbors, this breakfast nook would be the perfect place for some scrambled eggs and a screwdriver, easy on the OJ.

Then it's into the bathroom for a quick faceful of cold water before heading back to work.

Why yes, this is the Cadillac of bathroom vanities.

Why don't you have a seat and a smoke while I get dressed?

This jacket is about as rumpled as I am hungover, which ain't much. In fact, we're both still in great shape and ready for action. Have a drink waiting for me when I get home!

Purchased: Men's vintage corduroy jacket, $5.

Ravenswood Repository

2010-01-27T00:00:00.000-06:00

Live any place long enough and you'll accumulate a lot of stuff. But approach your acquisitions with even the slightest degree of purpose or passion, and you can really leave behind some impressive collections.

Take these long-reach grabbers, for starters. For most people, one is plenty. For those who want even greater convenience, one on every floor, or even every room, might be understandable. But this many? (There are twelve.) I have to wonder what you're grabbing at, and how incapacitated you are, and if you ought to be grabbing for that to begin with. Just sayin'.

Sidebar: If I didn't already live in a house blessed with more than enough furniture, this sideboard rotting in a basement corner would have come home with me. And then promptly had its drawer and door handles swapped out for something less... white.

The basement featured shelves and shelves of VHS tapes. And not the recorded-at-home kind either. There was a time when this many VHS tapes represented a great wealth of choice and possibilities.

Now they're just old technology looking for an eco-responsible method of disposal. But truth be told, I've got a few shelves of DVDs at home, too. And since going to this sale, I've been thinking about this collection, and my own.

I don't watch my movies all that often, and I don't think this person did either. But here's why I've got my DVDs, and why I think they had their VHS tapes: there's a feeling of security that comes with knowing I could watch my favorite movies at any time. No matter what happens or how bad things get. Come hell or high water. (Though not electrical failure or all-out apocalypse.) There's some comfort in that, I think. And comfort, wherever you can find it, is worth something.

On our way upstairs (where there's an even more impressive collection) let's stop in the dining room for just a moment.

And admire the grace and beauty and mid-century fabulousness of this light fixture hanging over the table. Stay for as long as you like. Our tour will resume at the next photo as soon as you're ready.

Most of the upstairs was your typical estate sale hot mess: cluttered bedrooms filled with a random assortment of books and furniture and linens and clothes and what-not that no one in particular was really interested in.

But there was this one room, used only to store slides, that kind of made me die a little inside.

Because here was a whole lifetime's worth of trips and vacations and pictures of the kids at Christmas.

Despite the looker photographed here, no one was interested in these.

But if I was independently wealthy, and didn't have a job to go to and a blog to keep up and a book to write, I would have taken all of them home, and looked through the carousels and figured out something worthwhile to do with this fantastic wealth of memories.

I hope someone did. Or does.

The Lady in the Leopard-Skin Coat

2010-01-25T00:00:00.001-06:00

Occasionally I'm asked how I manage to take so many photos at estate sales. Don't people notice? Aren't they bothered by it?

In over six months of doing this blog, however, my picture-taking has been commented on only a handful of times. (And for those occasions, I have a few cover stories that never fail to bring the conversation to a rapid close.) The truth is, most people are just too busy shopping to care what someone else is doing. Or even if they're being photographed themselves.

Like this woman. Here she is in the bathroom, gathering up some gently used health and beauty aids. You might think I was following her around. Actually, she just had an uncanny ability to get in front of me, no matter where I went.

Here she is again in the kitchen, assessing the quality of some pots and pans, oblivious to the fact that I'm happily snapping away.

And finally, in the pantry. It's probably a good thing that no one notices or cares what I'm doing. It's their inattention that makes this blog possible. But it's your scraps of attention that make it all worthwhile.

Lincoln Square Light Fixture Mystery

2010-01-22T00:00:00.002-06:00

There was a mystery at this estate sale that has perplexed me since mid-October (when these photos were taken) and that you may ponder for all of 15-20 seconds before going on with the rest of your day. We'll get to it in a moment. But first, a few of the odd finds I found.

As the package says, these "over glasses protectors" are ideal for racquetball, handball, baseball and basketball. Also for getting your balls kicked in by the local bully when you show up wearing them.

John Hornor Jacobs is a good friend and a good writer, as well as a reader of this blog. Recently he commented that these old Macs might be worth a bit of money if they work. That seems a long shot, however, since I've never known an Apple product to actually do that. (Oh, snap! Send your angry emails here.)

Somebody...

... liked...

... chipmunks.

Now on to the mystery. This lighting fixture caught my eye.

As did its upside-down twin on the filing cabinet nearby.

And their black counterpart. Why?

Because I'd seen them before, at a yard sale about a month earlier. Is it possible these are different light fixtures, even though they're identical to the first three? Perhaps. However, it seems more likely they're the same ones, bought at one sale in September, and on sale again in October. Strange. Weird. Even a little creepy.

Politics and Pleasure in Glenview

2010-01-20T00:00:00.000-06:00

This Glenview split-level combined two great American obsessions: politics and the pursuit of pleasure. Let's take a look.

By the time I arrived, there wasn't much left in the living room, except for this kicky carpet and that whorehouse floor lamp against the wall.

The house was cleverly designed around a central staircase, with landings that headed off in different directions. This little mezzanine looked out over the living room and entry way. It would be a pleasant place to sit and relax while you waited for other things to happen.

Perhaps in this master bedroom. It was a stunner -- take that any way you like -- with custom-built cabinetry covered in gray Formica. If I'm not mistaken, this is the room where Sonny Crockett seduced Mrs. Huxtable while the cast of Dynasty looked on.

I don't know if these newspapers were tucked between the mattress and the platform bed, or if they made their way here as part of the sale.

A lot of them were really old. For newspapers. People born during this era are definitely not old.

When people finally get all their news from some kind of screen, I wonder what they'll save after big events like these?

After seeing the Jack-and-Bobby-tragedy headline newspapers upstairs, these glasses in the kitchen made a lot more sense. It could just be a rumor, but they say the image our slain 35th president actually makes cold drinks taste better.

They also explained these TV Guides I found on one of the lower levels.

But it was this basement bar/rumpus room/pleasure dome that made the biggest impression.

Officially this area was off-limits, but one look at that rock wall and I knew I had to break all the rules. (Who's that in the mirror?)

That stained-glass window was lighted from behind. You'll think I'm being sarcastic or ironic when I say this, but I'm not: Talk about a touch of glass!

This built-in sauna was just off to the left, and I can think of no better place to sweat out this fall's election results than right here.

Edgewater High-Rise

2010-01-18T00:00:00.000-06:00

Buildings forty, fifty, even sixty stories high line Chicago's lakefront on the north side. (And the south side, for that matter.) I've always imagined life in one of them would be different, somehow better, than on the ground.

This two-bedroom unit was on the 32nd floor. Large enough for a woman on her own, with a little extra space for guests.

It was comfortable and elegant, self-contained but not isolated.

The view was excellent -- skyline and lake -- with no building right next door to intrude on her enjoyment or privacy.

She enjoyed the finer things in life.

Her collection of silver and crystal came out of the cabinet regularly. She loved to entertain, and her friends loved coming over.

She wasn't opposed...

... to a good drink...

... from time to time.

Like a lot of us, she hated being caught unprepared.

She cared enough about her health to try the latest fad advertised on late-night TV. Even though she knew it was probably nonsense.

And while she certainly wasn't the girl she used to be, her appearance was still important to her.

That's why she swam and exercised regularly in the pool downstairs. Those light foam weights had her friends confused, until she explained that they were for use underwater.

She loved clothes, and shopping, and looking her best.

She was independent. There were power tools in the linen closet, and if a hem needed repairing she could take care of it herself, without resorting to the dry cleaners downstairs.

She appreciated the glow of candlelight.

And the sound of bells.

And things that could fly, high above the city.