Ever since I was a little girl and received my first set of dollhouse furniture, I've been fascinated by miniature collectibles.
There is just something magical about tiny versions of the real thing.
I'm amazed at the minute details of well-made salesman's samples and doll-size furniture, and I always keep an eye out for unique pieces at flea markets and antique shops.
Salesman's samples were pint-sized version of products that late 19th-century and early 20th-century door-to-door salesmen would carry to so they didn't have to lug around the real thing, which, in the case of a cast-iron stove or a farm plow, could be quite heavy.
These models, generally 1/6 to 1/8 scale, were identical to the original in every way except size.
Outstanding examples can be a bit pricey. An inlaid ivory cabinet or 1890 carved drop-front desk will run you as much as the full-size pieces-- $3,250 to $3,800. I recently saw a magnificent 19th-century Abbot-Downing Concord Coach Wells Fargo Express salesman's sample for sale for $6,500.
However, if you keep a sharp eye out, there are still bargains to be found such as a Stromberg Carlson candlestick-style telephone for $145 and a 19th-century yellowware bowl for $57. I recently saw an adorable Burroughs Co. grandfather clock on ebay for $99.
If that's still too rich for your blood, concentrate on later samples created for dolls, especially handmade versions made for somebody's granddaughter out of old cigar boxes.
I've been able to snag myself some great early 20th-century miniature chests of drawers, cabinets and doll-size chairs for $10 to $30.
The big advantage in collecting miniatures is they don't take up a lot of room. I group mine in sets of three and make use of the tiny drawers to store my poodle's hair bands and barrettes.
Beware of reproductions, however. Most of the original salesman's samples were made in the United States. Don't confuse them with cast-iron reproductions from Japan, Korea and China.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Seasonal secrets
We call it the holiday shelf.
It's an antique pine wall shelf that hangs on the wall next to the front door of my home. It's where I display my seasonal antique collectibles.
You can always tell what holiday is on the horizon by glancing at my little shelf. I've got antique collectibles representing every holiday. But the holiday that gets the most shelf time, by far, is the Fourth of July. I place my Independence Day collectibles on the shelf in time for Memorial Day and they remain there until Labor Day when they're replaced with my Halloween collectibles.
Besides early postcards and bunting, you won't find a lot of early Independence Day decorations so I've expanded my collection to include a composite George Washington doll, an awesome decorative cast-iron ax bearing Washington's likeness, fireworks boxes with great early 20th-century graphics and old Washington, D.C., souvenirs.
It's a lot easier to find items for Easter, Christmas and Halloween displays.
For Easter, I display papier mache bunny and Easter egg candy holders made in Germany, chalkware rabbits given as prizes at long-ago carnivals and chenille chicks lined up in vintage Easter baskets.
Come Halloween, I pull out my papier mache jack o' lanterns, 1950s Collegeville costumes, Beistle diecuts, assortment of old plastic cake decorations in the form of witches, black cats and scarecrows and faded crepe paper party favors.
Christmas gives me the opportunity to fill my seasonal shelf with my collection of German putz woolly sheep, clay-faced chenille Santa figures and bottle-brush trees.
Valentine's Day is the perfect time to display my late 19th-century, early 20th-century diecut honeycomb valentines along with a googly-eyed composite bride and groom and an early candy box adorned with old millinery flowers delicate paper doilies.
I've also managed to put together a St. Patrick's Day display with bakelite hat and pipe pins, vintage leprechaun figurines and a wonderful Irish couple made from chenille pipe cleaners and spun cotton.
Although my Thanksgiving display lasts only a few weeks between my Halloween and Christmas displays, I've put together a great collection of papier mache turkey candy containers and Gurley candles in the shape of turkeys, pilgrims and Indians.
Since these decorations are displayed for just a short period of time, I try to keep the cost low by searching out bargains. I rarely pay more than $10 for any single item.
It's an antique pine wall shelf that hangs on the wall next to the front door of my home. It's where I display my seasonal antique collectibles.
You can always tell what holiday is on the horizon by glancing at my little shelf. I've got antique collectibles representing every holiday. But the holiday that gets the most shelf time, by far, is the Fourth of July. I place my Independence Day collectibles on the shelf in time for Memorial Day and they remain there until Labor Day when they're replaced with my Halloween collectibles.
Besides early postcards and bunting, you won't find a lot of early Independence Day decorations so I've expanded my collection to include a composite George Washington doll, an awesome decorative cast-iron ax bearing Washington's likeness, fireworks boxes with great early 20th-century graphics and old Washington, D.C., souvenirs.
It's a lot easier to find items for Easter, Christmas and Halloween displays.
For Easter, I display papier mache bunny and Easter egg candy holders made in Germany, chalkware rabbits given as prizes at long-ago carnivals and chenille chicks lined up in vintage Easter baskets.
Come Halloween, I pull out my papier mache jack o' lanterns, 1950s Collegeville costumes, Beistle diecuts, assortment of old plastic cake decorations in the form of witches, black cats and scarecrows and faded crepe paper party favors.
Christmas gives me the opportunity to fill my seasonal shelf with my collection of German putz woolly sheep, clay-faced chenille Santa figures and bottle-brush trees.
Valentine's Day is the perfect time to display my late 19th-century, early 20th-century diecut honeycomb valentines along with a googly-eyed composite bride and groom and an early candy box adorned with old millinery flowers delicate paper doilies.
I've also managed to put together a St. Patrick's Day display with bakelite hat and pipe pins, vintage leprechaun figurines and a wonderful Irish couple made from chenille pipe cleaners and spun cotton.
Although my Thanksgiving display lasts only a few weeks between my Halloween and Christmas displays, I've put together a great collection of papier mache turkey candy containers and Gurley candles in the shape of turkeys, pilgrims and Indians.
Since these decorations are displayed for just a short period of time, I try to keep the cost low by searching out bargains. I rarely pay more than $10 for any single item.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Old-World Walls
If you like the look of the Old-World, time-worn walls you see in English cottages and Italian villas, you'll love this trick.
It's easy and fun. And I just love the unplanned textures that result from this method.
Just purchase a bucket of spackling plaster, the kind you use to repair drywall. Take a trowel and spread the spackle over your walls in various directions. Don't be neat. You can leave streaks, air pockets and lumps to add character. You don't need to cover every bit of surface, either, just enough to give it a rough texture.
Next, choose a favorite paint color and either water it down or mix it with a glaze to dilute it. I've used both water and glaze, and, as far as I'm concerned, you can save your money on the glaze.
Then simply wipe the paint over the wall with an old rag. The paint will adhere to the plaster and give the wall varying colors and textures.
It takes just two days to complete a small room -- one day to spackle and the next day to wash with color. It's actually less tedious than painting with a brush where perfection is the preference. With this method, drips and "vacations" are perfectly acceptable. In fact, they add to that Old-World appearance.
It's easy and fun. And I just love the unplanned textures that result from this method.
Just purchase a bucket of spackling plaster, the kind you use to repair drywall. Take a trowel and spread the spackle over your walls in various directions. Don't be neat. You can leave streaks, air pockets and lumps to add character. You don't need to cover every bit of surface, either, just enough to give it a rough texture.
Next, choose a favorite paint color and either water it down or mix it with a glaze to dilute it. I've used both water and glaze, and, as far as I'm concerned, you can save your money on the glaze.
Then simply wipe the paint over the wall with an old rag. The paint will adhere to the plaster and give the wall varying colors and textures.
It takes just two days to complete a small room -- one day to spackle and the next day to wash with color. It's actually less tedious than painting with a brush where perfection is the preference. With this method, drips and "vacations" are perfectly acceptable. In fact, they add to that Old-World appearance.
Make your own make-dos
Early Americans were the ultimate recyclers.
They didn't live in a world of conspicuous consumption like we do today. Instead, their belongings tended to be meager and they prized what little they owned.
Nevertheless, periodically a vase or candlestick would break. Rather than throw the item away, however, our ancestors would transform the unbroken base into useful items such as a pin cushion.
That's the origin of what antique dealers call "make-do." These cleverly recycled items are now coveted for their folk art appeal and sell for hundreds of dollars.
I began making my own make-dos after purchasing a homemade make-do on ebay. I decided to try replicating it using an old cutter quilt, the strawberry needle sharpener from an old tomato-shaped pin cushion, and assorted vintage buttons and bric-brac. I liked the result so much, I began making make-dos as gifts for family and friends. They don't take a lot of work. Just use your imagination, vintage fabric and any cast-offs you find laying around the house.
They didn't live in a world of conspicuous consumption like we do today. Instead, their belongings tended to be meager and they prized what little they owned.
Nevertheless, periodically a vase or candlestick would break. Rather than throw the item away, however, our ancestors would transform the unbroken base into useful items such as a pin cushion.
That's the origin of what antique dealers call "make-do." These cleverly recycled items are now coveted for their folk art appeal and sell for hundreds of dollars.
I began making my own make-dos after purchasing a homemade make-do on ebay. I decided to try replicating it using an old cutter quilt, the strawberry needle sharpener from an old tomato-shaped pin cushion, and assorted vintage buttons and bric-brac. I liked the result so much, I began making make-dos as gifts for family and friends. They don't take a lot of work. Just use your imagination, vintage fabric and any cast-offs you find laying around the house.
In a fix? Here are some tricks
It all began when I acquired a beautiful, rare 1940s Fiesta turquoise footed bowl that would have been worth $150, except it had a big chunk missing from the foot. To the Fiesta collector, who prizes perfect pieces, it was virtually worthless.
"You know, I think I can fix that," said Mr. Fix-It, aka my husband.
He took some spackling, the kind you use to fill holes in walls, and filled in the spot where the chip was. When it thoroughly dried. he sanded it down and then, using model airplane paints, painted the chip to match the rest of the bowl. He then finished it off with a coat of polyurethane.
His match was so perfect, you could hardly tell where the chip once was.
But the real test was its durability. Would the repair hold up to the periodic hand washings it would undoubtedly receive?
Well, the repair was done 13 years ago, and the bowl is still as good as "new." In the interim, I've become quite the ceramic restorer, perfecting the techniques my husband developed.
I now have people bring me beloved religious statues, marble busts and heirloom ceramics to repair.
I recently repaired a very heavy 3-foot chalkware statue of Abe Lincoln for a couple. Their granddaughter accidentally knocked it over and Abe's arm broke off. It was a challenge. The piece was so heavy that my usual method of first gluing the pieces back together with Super Glue just wouldn't suffice. I went to Home Depot to seek advice and was told plumber's cement would do the trick. But, no, the arm was still too heavy. So I cut pieces of a wire hanger, drilled holes into the plaster shoulder and side and inserted the wire into the holes to anchor the arm. Once anchored, the glue held. Then I packed the cracks with plumber's putty and spackling to further strengthen the breaks. Once the spackling thoroughly dried, I mixed paint, blending it to match the existing paint on the piece. Once completed, you could hardly tell it'd been repaired at all. I was pretty pleased with myself.
I also was able to perform miracles with a majolica teapot with a broken spout. I inserted a pencil in the remaining spout and molded the putty around the pencil to replace the part that had broken off. I discovered the ideal tool for sanding and shaping the putty afterward is a battery-operated manicure file. The various attachments allow me to sculpt lines into the putty or smooth it out, depending on the effect I'm after.
The artistic, and tricky, part comes with paint. It takes a lot of experimentation to find just the right colors to match the existing piece. A final coat of polyurethane gives the repair durability.
When I finished with Mr. Lincoln and the owner came to retrieve him, he asked how much he owed me. I was momentarily baffled. I'd never charged for my work before. I'd always done it for the challenge of making something broken beautiful again. I didn't know what to charge so I suggested he make a donation to my favorite charity.
It just didn't seem right to accept money for having so much fun.
"You know, I think I can fix that," said Mr. Fix-It, aka my husband.
He took some spackling, the kind you use to fill holes in walls, and filled in the spot where the chip was. When it thoroughly dried. he sanded it down and then, using model airplane paints, painted the chip to match the rest of the bowl. He then finished it off with a coat of polyurethane.
His match was so perfect, you could hardly tell where the chip once was.
But the real test was its durability. Would the repair hold up to the periodic hand washings it would undoubtedly receive?
Well, the repair was done 13 years ago, and the bowl is still as good as "new." In the interim, I've become quite the ceramic restorer, perfecting the techniques my husband developed.
I now have people bring me beloved religious statues, marble busts and heirloom ceramics to repair.
I recently repaired a very heavy 3-foot chalkware statue of Abe Lincoln for a couple. Their granddaughter accidentally knocked it over and Abe's arm broke off. It was a challenge. The piece was so heavy that my usual method of first gluing the pieces back together with Super Glue just wouldn't suffice. I went to Home Depot to seek advice and was told plumber's cement would do the trick. But, no, the arm was still too heavy. So I cut pieces of a wire hanger, drilled holes into the plaster shoulder and side and inserted the wire into the holes to anchor the arm. Once anchored, the glue held. Then I packed the cracks with plumber's putty and spackling to further strengthen the breaks. Once the spackling thoroughly dried, I mixed paint, blending it to match the existing paint on the piece. Once completed, you could hardly tell it'd been repaired at all. I was pretty pleased with myself.
I also was able to perform miracles with a majolica teapot with a broken spout. I inserted a pencil in the remaining spout and molded the putty around the pencil to replace the part that had broken off. I discovered the ideal tool for sanding and shaping the putty afterward is a battery-operated manicure file. The various attachments allow me to sculpt lines into the putty or smooth it out, depending on the effect I'm after.
The artistic, and tricky, part comes with paint. It takes a lot of experimentation to find just the right colors to match the existing piece. A final coat of polyurethane gives the repair durability.
When I finished with Mr. Lincoln and the owner came to retrieve him, he asked how much he owed me. I was momentarily baffled. I'd never charged for my work before. I'd always done it for the challenge of making something broken beautiful again. I didn't know what to charge so I suggested he make a donation to my favorite charity.
It just didn't seem right to accept money for having so much fun.
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