Stakeout: The Posh Oppe Shoppe, Caulfield South

OK, now before anyone points this out to me, I’m well aware that I may have spelled the name of this shop incorrectly. Posh Opp Shoppe? Poshe Oppe Shop? I forget (unforgivable). In the end I went for the maximum allowable amount of Ye Olde Time spelling, a sensible decision in anyone’s book. It’s at the corner of Glenhuntly Road and Grange Road.

Now, where were we? Ah, yes. This is really the grand - daddy of op shops in its area. It leaves me flabbergasted every time. How is it that they are jam packed to the rafters with vintage gems, antiques and collectables, while other nearby ops haven’t got a hope? Where are they getting their stuff?

Tools For Appraising Stuff in Op Shops and Antique Stores

Over the last few years, I’ve learned a fair bit about detecting quality, spotting fakes and generally examining items at op shops, fairs and antiques stores. But a trained eye and a bank of knowledge take time to build up, and having a few tools on one’s person when one is out and about can make assessing an item that much easier.

It’s also a good way to demonstrate to a vendor that you’re not one of those characters in a cartoon that turns into a lollipop/pigeon when a shyster walks by.

So here are the items I would always carry with me if I could…

Stakeout: The Gods of Brunswick Savers Have Been Kind

Turns out I’ve been writing off Brunswick Savers for far too long. My prior writings-off have been based on low-yielding visits of the past, which I put down to the fact that this store is picked over daily by the hordes of tragically-hip types who live in the area and the fashion students who cruise past on the tram as they make their way to the nearby RMIT tafe.

I was there on Saturday morning. Maybe it’s because the previous day had been a public holiday; maybe turnover is really high; maybe Brunswick gets the best stuff or I was just really lucky, but I’m going to have to eat my previous words; I had a rad day at Brunswick Savers.

I should also mention that I was there early (around 10am), and it didn’t get busy until around 11:30 am (yes I was in there that long), so this probably had something to do with it.

But check this out:

Stakeout: Salvos Store Designer Sale, St Kilda

This sale (from Friday 15 to Saturday 16 Feb only) was a tragedy waiting to happen for me. On the one hand, I knew it was on, I was raring to go and was hyper-aware of the golden rule that applies on such occasions: get there early. The loud signage and prominent locale (90 Inkerman St, St Kilda) of this shop meant that the crowds were sure to be sizeable and fierce.

On the other hand, I knew I’d be work bound until lunch time, meaning that any true bargains would probably be halfway to Mexico by the time I dragged my sorry behind through the front door.

Unfortunately, my predictions were not enough to stop my houndlike curiosity. I arrived in the early afternoon, having burned a streak up Brighton/St Kilda road, only to find a bunch of:

Lea Stein Brooches: Which Are the Most Collectable?

It’s at moments like these that I feel truly thankful that I’m a nerd. I love a good research session. Can’t get enough index scanning, googling and sniffing around.

I’ve noted before that I’m a relatively new collector of Lea Stein jewellery (which is mostly brooches/pins, but there’s also earrings, bracelets and combs). And one of the most difficult things to work out for a collector – other than how the jewellery should be dated and priced – is which of Lea Stein’s designs are the most collectable.

With that in mind, here are a few designs of note. This is by no means an exhaustive list, as there are probably still many I’ve never even clapped eyes on. Feel free to let me know of any other Lea Stein brooch designs or finishes that should be added.

Stakeout: Daylesford and Hepburn Springs

In a continuation of yesterday’s post, here’s the wash up from my fossicking in Daylesford…

St Vincent de Paul, 28 Howe Street, Daylesford

This shop is more picked over than a gazelle carcass after the last vulture has gorged itself and rolled off into the sunset.

Something tells me that Daylesford is home to some fairly canny op shopping types. So this Vinnies isn’t like your typical country town op shop (packed to the rafters with cheap gold) – mostly because D-ford seems to be populated by ex-Melburnians who are smart enough to get their op on well before the weekends, when masses of big-smoke hoodlums (me etc) come raring into town.

Telling the Difference Between Rhinestone, Paste and Marcasite

My early forays into collecting costume jewellery saw me embarrass myself in front of vendors, dealers and the general public often. And gratuitously.

One such occasion was at Camberwell market, where I was looking at some brooches (there’s a whole brooch STALL there, I’ve nearly been sunburned poring over the merchandise more than once), and asked a woman who can only be described as ‘the brooch woman’ (you know the one I mean – wall to wall brooches – she’s basically my hero) if I could have a look at a 1930s fur clip that had been converted into a brooch.

‘It’s marcasite, isn’t it?’ I said, looking at the tiny, almost flat stones.

She nearly laughed in my face.

‘Ah, no dear, it’s paste,’ she said.

‘How can you tell?’ I asked.

I can’t remember precisely what her response was, but it was something along the lines of ‘if you have to ask you’re a hopeless case anyway, now shoo!’

This experience taught me several things. First, never show your hand if you can help it – I should have said ‘What’s it made from?’ rather than look like I was trying to look like I knew what I was talking about (if you know what I mean).

Secondly, that I had been told that paste items were in fact ‘marcasite’ for my entire life. My mother would often mention how much she liked ‘old marcasite’ jewellery, when she was actually talking about paste. Thus was the source of my error.

So, to prevent anyone else out there from embarrassing themselves in the way I embarrassed myself, here’s some info on how these three different materials can be distinguished from one another

Marie-Christine Pavone Jewellery: The Mystery Has Been Solved

Some readers will remember that I recently posted about how difficult it is to find information on French plastic jewellery designer, Marie-Christine Pavone.

Well, you’ll be glad to hear that with a little googling, a little emailing and a whole lot of willingness-to-mildly-annoy-people, I’ve come up with some answers.

First up. I emailed Carter’s (they of ‘Everything Vintage’) to ask about their exclusion of Pavone designs. Here’s the Pavone section of the reply I received from the General Manager (yes, I did bug them on other jewellery topics, but that’s for another day):

“As far as Marie-Christine Pavone items are concerned, we are at the mercy of the dealers who supply us with items as to what is available for inclusion in the books.  We certainly will keep an eye out for it and see if we can get some into our future editions.”
 
A nice response (in fact, his whole email should be commended for being polite and gentlemanlish and deserving of some tea and cucumber sandwiches at the very least), but clearly I was barking up the wrong tree.

Investigation: The Case of the Annoying Mystery Signature

Like it or not, signatures, tags, hallmarks, stamps and numbers matter when you’re talking vintage. This goes for a number of things – silver, glass (if you can find one on a glass item…good luck), furniture, clothes (obviously), figurines and so on and so forth. And nowhere is the hunt for a name more intense than in the field of costume jewellery.

Example: I recently saw a Lea Stein fox head brooch (brown and white, for those who are interested, which screams mid-1970s to me) with an unsigned clasp for sale on eBay. The price? US$19.99. Now, given that just about ANY Stein will have the trademark v-shaped ‘Lea Stein Paris’ pinback – and even really small pieces have a tiny, straight bar that reads ‘Lea Stein’, and these fox heads are usually signed – this low price is probably due to the seller expecting some (reasonable) suspicion that the piece is a fake. But there were several photos and a ‘Made in France’ sticker, and the thing did look genuine. Its signed value is probably anywhere between $60-$80 on eBay or similar, or $100-$120 retail.

What this goes to show is that signed pieces are usually going to sell for a higher price than their unsigned counterparts (unless the lack of signature is due to the piece being very early – and as there are so few signatures on really early pieces, the lack of one is never taken as a sign of mass-production or poor quality).

So given this thirsty hunt for a name, it’s highly frustrating when you have pieces that bear some kind of signature that you either can’t decipher or can’t get any information about.

How Much is Too Much to Pay for Bakelite?

It’s no secret that Bakelite anything is hot as hot can be right now. Even op shops have cottoned on to this fact; when I was in Sydney recently  I managed to unearth a Bakelite buckle at the St Vincent de Paul in Paddington, which was green and in a bow shape. When I asked the cost, I nearly fell over. It was $95!

In fact, there is so much Bakelite love happening around the world right now that some madcap genius has actually gone and done what we were all thinking of doing, and established a Bakelite museum (which features, among other things, a Bakelite coffin. You read it here first).

Here’s a bit of background info on Bakelite. It was developed between 1907-1909 by one Dr Leo Baekeland (his name makes me think of a magical land filled with baked goods, but that’s irrelevant). The manufacture of Bakelite is actually fairly labour-intensive. It involves combining phenol and formaldehyde (with a wood flour filler) under pressure and heat. It was the first plastic made entirely from synthetic components, and was used in a vast array of household and industrial applications for its heat resistant properties. Now, of course, these things have become highly collectible, particularly Bakelite radios, jewellery and household utensils.

Another aside – “Bakelite” was actually the brand that initially produced ‘phenolic resin’ products, but nowadays (in a phenomenon similar to that I describe in my rant about Glomesh) anything made of this material is referred to as Bakelite. And don’t expect it all to be signed.  

This brings me to my dilemma. At the well-known Melbourne vintage shop Shag (actually I think there’s one in Sydney now as well, but a NSW reader may have to sort me out on that one), I have spied a collection of Bakelite brooches so fine that they are well worth investing in. There are ladies walking greyhounds. There are cats, and elegant dogs, birds and fruit and strange, “native” faces. They are in standard vintage colours – red, black, and that murky yellowy-brown colour that seems so characteristic of Bakelite.

But – garn – they are $249. Each.