You know, I really thought I had the measure of antiques fairs by now. The running order is usually as follows:
1. Go to some regional town.
2. Find the town hall/leisure centre.
3.Wander around thirty to fifty stalls, gawping at stuff and making banal comments such as ‘that’s nice’ or ‘gee, that’s a big one, isn’t it?’
4. Remark that the same things are for sale that you saw last time.
5. If you’re feeling frisky, buy a lil’ somethin; if not slowly gorge yourself on scones/sausages/vanilla slice and then go home.
Right? Well, not exactly. Fryerstown is not your run-o-the-mill antiques fair.
But, thinking it was, I had made the mistake of a) not bringing much cash and b)wearing normal shoes/clothes. Why were these things mistakes, you ask? Because it’s a Gigantic Freaking Mofo of an outdoor fair held in the middle of god knows where, that’s why.
I started to get worried as we drove into Fryserstown and I realised that people were paying to park in locals’ front yards. Then I realised that people were parked all along the side of the road. There were cars (and - ah, the grey nomads - caravans) EVERYWHERE. It was total automotive madness. Sort of like those ads for car city, without the wobbly eye thingy. Though I guess everyone was keeping their eyes open for a bargain (boom-boom!)
So we parked on the road, and it was once we got out onto the sweltering tar that I realised that wearing nice patent leather shoes was probably not my wisest move. At the end of the day I looked down and both shoe and the exposed parts of foot were covered in a serious layer of brown dust.
See, except for a small and overcrowded hall in the middle of a reserve, the entire fair takes place outdoors. And this would be fine if it were on, say, concrete, or rolling green pastures. But instead it was on dirt. Miles and miles of hot brown dirt. Many stallholders’ wares were as dusty as my feet-shoes. And good lord, were there a lot of stalls. Maybe over 100.
So there I was, without a whole lot of cash (there’ll be an atm nearby, i blithely thought), and without any sort of hat to stop the sun searing my face off (the person at the entrance selling hats must have been making a killing). But, I sunscreened up and soldiered on, helped along by a homemade rissole in a kind of makeshift sanger with cheap mustard…at least the food was what I was expecting.
But here I will stop complaining, because it truly is worth making it out to this fair if you can stand the dust, the vastness and the fact that there’s nowhere to sit.
Why? Because it’s rare to see a fair with so many stallholders, so much stock and so much competition. Bargaining is de rigeur, and people really did seem to want to offload their old stuff, so it’s a great chance to grab some decent antiques at a price well below retail and quite possibly below what you’d pay at other, more comfortable fairs.
The type of stock was average – loads of china and glass, toys and dolls, advertising material, books etc. There wasn’t much in the way of quality jewellery and there were hardly any clothes/shoes/accessories, so if that’s your thing then it’s probably not worth the trip. But this is definitely the place to be for any decorative/homewares-related stuff. As an aside, I’ve never seen so much Brownie Downing junk in my life…perhaps the global financial crisis has slowed sales of politically incorrect collectable miniature plates.
Still not convinced? Ok – other than the stock and price info, here’s how I know it was a good fair:
1) I saw antiques dealers who I’ve seen selling wares at other fairs wandering around here as punters (looking for stock? That’s got to be a good sign)
2) This is the only fair that I’ve been to where Alan Carter (of the antiques guides) bothered showing up. He had a stall and was peddling wares like a pro. (As an aside, I saw someone selling a 1985 Carter’s for $450! Unbelievable. Something to keep an eye out for in op shops.)
I get the feeling that the Fryerstown fair, which has been running since the early 1970s, is they type of fair attended by Serious dealers and professionals/collectors, as well as snotty plebians such as yours truly. I was there on the first ‘official’ day, but was told by more than one person that everyone sets up in the week before the fair begins, so most big-time/organised dealers have had a gander at everything by the wednesday/thursday before the fair legally opens.
This was a bit of a bummer, because it gives one the feeling that all the best bargains have already gone. The plus side, however, is that now I (and you) know about this unofficial wheeling and dealing, so we can be smarty-pantses and get there early next year.
I’ll be the one wearing dingy old runners and a giant hat.
