Wilmette Bits and Pieces from the Sixties and Seventies

This place was a mishmash of good and bad stuff from the sixties and seventies, all of it put together -- it seemed -- with little regard for logic or a sense of story. In its honor, this post will mirror that approach.

This was probably the coziest corner in the entire house, and you encountered it the moment you stepped over the threshold. Overstuffed leather (or pleather or vinyl) sofas and the warm glow of a table lamp: what's not to like? You could throw a comfortable cocktail party in a corner like this.

Especially if you filled that decanter with ice cold Mad Dog and kept everyone's shot glasses full.

But the further inside I ventured, the worse things got.

I probably shouldn't have made the basement my first stop, but when I see those stairs I'm helpless to resist their pull.

It was a fine example of the dank, musty-smelling and over-crowded style of basement decor, packed with kids toys from the sixties, several kitchens'-worth of outdated small electrics and stuff I can only categorize under the heading of "stuff."

How many times do you think this was used before they went back to making hot dogs the non-Big Top way?

I went upstairs. There were three floors, each one a little older and weirder than the last.

Most of the bedrooms had been set up to display a large collection of what had become vintage clothes.

What's that alluring scent? Could it be the late-seventies I smell?

So much wrong here. 1.) The matching hose. 2.) The name "Paris." 3.) It's for sale, used. 4.) That four-year guarantee is obviously expired. If anything goes wrong, caveat emptor!

This was the only bathroom I saw in the entire place. Let's take a closer look at that wallpaper, shall we?

Cartoon mushrooms. Thousands upon thousands of them. And each one guaranteed to produce a bad trip.

On the third floor was a final bedroom, tucked up under the house's eaves. One of the women working at the sale said to me, "Can't you just feel all the years of pretend that were played up here?"

Off the side was a little attic storage room full of Christmas stuff. That's where I found this grimacing black angel. I tried for quite a while to work him/her into my Christmas post, but never did come up with something that seemed right. I invite you, my dear readers, to take a crack at it and post your thoughts in the comments.

Wilmette Shell

There's a company in the North Shore that specializes in upscale estate sales. While the sales are always in nice homes, time and again they also turn out to be strangely empty.

A copper chafing dish and a single wooden shoe made up the majority of items for sale here in the kitchen.

No dishes. No table linens. No pots and pans. Just a bottle of Joy, a beige soap dispenser and what looks to be someone's half-consumed iced coffee left behind on the sink.

An upstairs bedroom, which looks like something the pilgrims might have slept in.

Especially because of this.

Another bedroom. They've obviously had trouble selling that little sofa-sleeper without a bottom cushion.

This study -- also largely empty -- demonstrates the sort of thing that's revealed when things are stripped to the walls.

This looks like a great place to get some work done. Cozy and warm, with plenty of bookshelves.

But pay extra attention to the center of the picture, just to the right of that middle shelf. Those aren't shadows, but places where books once sat, unmoved.

Whether it was discolored from years of wear or cigarette smoke, or both, is hard to say.

Another wall. All that's left are the ghosts of whatever hung on it all that time.

Wilmette Grab Bag

There was a little bit of everything at this sale: an okay ranch home with some interesting touches, a number of random items up for bids, some mix-and-match medical supplies. None of it made a lot of sense.

Here we have a display table in the living room. It looks as though all the breakables have been moved, to keep them safe from the reach of Babe Ruth's powerful swing.

The kitchen had a couple nice touches.

This linoleum was one. I don't know about you, but if this pattern was still available, I'd seriously consider putting it in my kitchen.

This lamp was another. The coiled cord wasn't for taking phone calls, but for adjusting the lamp's height. If you were particularly proud of that night's menu, you could pull that sucker down and really feature your mad dinner skillz.

There was a basement rec room. With houses of this style and era, there's almost always a basement rec room.

There's usually some rattan-style furniture, too. It's a shame there were no cushions -- it's going to take a person with some serious reupholstery mojo to bring these old bones back to life.

There was a table of odds and ends nearby. This was among them. Critics generally agree the sequel fell short of the original Super String.

I also found this portrait of Daddy's Little Hooker.

This is a strange cabinet. I wonder what it was for? Let's take a look at that sticker in the upper-left corner.

Oh. So this cabinet was for displaying guns, as well as one's political views.

I found this bathroom upstairs. There were a few odd items for sale on the vanity.

Still new in the package. Despite that, I don't think this is the sort of thing you want to bring home from an estate sale.

Not even if these were included as part of a 2-for-1 deal.

As I was leaving I saw this on one of the end tables in the living room. Folks, I think it's time to shoot that horse.