I've dragged home some fairly disgusting things over the years, but I think I may have outdone myself this weekend at something called the Jumble Sale.
The Jumble Sale is a church rummage sale and at first glance, it didn't seem like a very good one. But I kind of knew that going in because Barbara (aka The Feedsack Queen), who lives near the village where the Jumble Sale was held, told me that it wasn't one of her favorites. I think she said "I hate the Jumble Sale," and then gave me advice about how to get in with risking life and limb. You see, the Jumble Sale is held at a church that sits on the edge of a lake. To get into the parish hall, where the sale is, you (and several hundred other shoppers) must walk downhill, herded like cattle, then up two flights of steps into the hall.
Let's just say that the agony of getting in wasn't worth the ecstasy of what was inside.
Actually, the better stuff, and everything that I ended up buying was found on my way out of the sale, as I walked back up the hill. Which means that next year, if I decide to return, I will be paying attention to what's outside first.
But what did I buy that was so disgusting?
Certainly not this super cute 1950s pink and black trash can, which my daughter Grace actually found for 25 cents and plans to put in her bedroom. Of course I'm jealous that I didn't see it first but proud that I've trained her to spot a great vintage piece.
Was it this bunting, which is rather faded and yellowed? It was only $1.50 for both pieces, which made it just the right price for something that I'll use only once or twice a year and would never buy new.
And, yes, it did clean up OK.
Meet "Mildred," which (who?) I suspect was in someone's barn or attic for quite some time before she arrived at the Jumble Sale. I didn't take a closeup photo, but trust me, something must have been living in her innards.
Why did I buy her? Well, I'm still questioning that, hence the title of the blog post.
I guess it was because she's a vintage dress form and it's hard to walk away from a vintage dress form, even a disgusting one. And the price was right. She started out at $2, which I was able to talk down to 50 cents without a whole lot of effort.
Mr. VS was rather unimpressed with my find. He took one look at her, sighed a familiar sigh and said simply: "I have no comment." But you know what he's really thinking, don't you?
So what do you think? For 50 cents, would you have brought Mildred home?