You may remember last Saturday. It was basically sub zero temperatures, icy, howling winds and the occasional blast of hail. Which, obviously, is why I decided it would be a great day to make my way into Ballarat, winner of every “Regional Centre With the Least Hospitable Climate” award of the last five billion years.

In truth, the beau and I were visiting a friend up there, and between rounds of Lost in Time mini-golf (don’t miss it - each hole is supposed to capture a certain historical era, but according to them history roughly went straight from dinosaurs to the middle ages to pirates. it is AWESOME, and the golf balls are fluoro) and roaming the Ballarat art gallery, I managed to slink off and wander around the Ballarat Salvos on Bakery Hill.

Now, I believe that the old chestnut of op shopping - that country ops are always better - has already been well and truly debunked. Which is fortunate, because this op is more like a slightly disorganised 1990s museum than anything else. There’s those hideous sheepskin jackets with greasy faux fur collars and cuffs (at school we called them ‘Mufasa’ jackets after Simba’s shaggy dad, but I don’t know what the official name was/is), coloured denim in a palette from mustard to violet, shiny polyester polo shirt-style t-shirts with lace up fronts, printed Blossom dresses…the list goes on.

There is some older stuff, but it’s heavily skewed to the tastes of the More Mature Lady, if you know what I mean. A symphony in shapeless tan, dresses without waists, sensible pumps, pleated trousers etc etc. The scarves form an exception here, but really, don’t they always? The jewellery is fairly sparse, and the handbags are kind of like a selection of those free beach bags that come with fashion magazines every once in a while.  

It’s likely you’ll have better luck here if you’re after homewares. The amount of glassware is extensive considering the size of the shop, and the rest of the kitchenwares/homewares section held out some promise (though they did have a full set of those Irish Coffee mugs that you see absolutely everywhere…). I saw a few stray plates which were interesting (mid 20th century Australian), ditto teacups, but nothing in a full set.

Essentially, this is one of those ops that services the local community with good quality, clean, basic stuff, rather than catering to out-of-town blow-ins like yours truly who are more likely to be searching for a giant clock in the shape of a watch than replacement kitchen curtains. So if it’s manchester, or vast piles of baby-wear you need, I’d recommend this place in an instant.

The best thing I saw there was probably a (very reasonably priced) Kangol wool beret. If it hadn’t been such a tomato-ey shade of red (so 90s) I probably would have bought it.

This shop is also highly visible, being located on the top of Bakery Hill. So that could contribute to the lack of goodies too, especially as the Salvos try to send most of their hip retro merchandise to the St Kilda/Abbotsford stores.

Anyone else been here? Or to another regional op that you’d recommend?

P.S. If you’re at the minigolf, the trick on the pirate hole is to hit the ball in the opposite direction to the hole, so it ricochets….but don’t hit it into the sand, because then you’ll have to walk the plank (ahem) and try to hit the ball out of the sand trap (whoops).

OK, for this piece of cutting edge intelligence I owe a debt of gratitude to Jimmy/James of The Signage.

Apparently, the state MP for Frankston, one Alistair Harkness, has prepared a free pamphlet/guide to op shops in the Frankston area.

It’s a great free service, alerting people to the addresses and opening hours of ops in the area, as well as letting them know if the shop is run by a charity, and what that charity does. It’s a great way of subtly letting people know about the nature of Savers (see previous post for general cattiness directed towards savers), and putting positive secondhand-loving vibes out into the community.

From a politician’s perspective (or, from the looks of the guy, I’d guess it was a younger, ‘funkier’ member of staff who was the brains behind this operation) it’s a smart move - tell people how to save money in these inflationary times, promote recycling and conservation etc. And the cost would be minimal (the pamphlet is pretty lo-fi…another reason to love).

Anyway, the actual pamphlet can be downloaded here: harkness_op_shop_guide1, and if you’re really into Alistair, you can read the good ol’ press release on his website. 

Personally, my favourite part of the pamphlet is one of the questions on the front: ‘Are you looking for the retro look? THEN THIS PAMPHLET IS JUST FOR YOU!’ (their caps, not mine).

I’m considering petitioning my local MP to get them to distribute something similar…but I’m reasonably sure there’s noone young and/or funky in the office so it might have to remain a pipe dream.

Has anyone actually received this pamphlet? Was it useful? Frankston is notoriously good when it comes to second hand goods an’ chattles, so I’ve definitely filed one of these bad boys away for future reference.

There’s something about Robert ‘Dipper’ Dipierdominico that makes me feel sad inside. I think it’s because just when you thought he had lost all vestige of human dignity and couldn’t possibly sink any further, he jumps frothing through the televisual landscape screeching about 99c socks and I have to allow that he has attained a new level of humiliation. Also my friend once accidentally sex-danced with him and got the death stare from his wife. But that’s another story.

Where am I going with this? Well, I’m about to draw a rather long bow and liken the sad writhings of Dipper to the shamelessness of Savers.

Savers and its various deals with the devil is hardly a new topic on TVD, I know. But people often email me about the forces of evil behind Savers, and I admit that shopping there (while irresistible) presents something of a moral quagmire. They hope that people will assume they’re a charity. They charge way-out prices on certain items. They suck the life out of smaller op shops (how the hell is Don Bosco in Brunswick still surviving??)

And, like Dipper, if there’s a new low to sink to, they’ll find it, clad themselves in a really ugly burnt orange 90s sateen shirt and get into it.

The latest in this series of ridiculous Savers antics? Those unfortunate billboards that I’m seeing EVERYWHERE that say ‘Savers: Fight Boring’ and show a line of ho-hum lamps/handbags/whatever and then one Way Out example on the end, which the hep-cat who sees this ad on the highway will presumably attain after swerving off the highway at one of Five Convenient Locations. Why is this ad ridiculous? Allow me to state the obvious:

1. No one sells more boring shit than Savers. Sure, there’s brillo stuff too, but fifty million racks of children’s polar fleece is dull enough to give anyone inflamed eyeballs. Savers is not some emporium of awesome. It just has heaps of stuff, and it’s up to the individual to hunt out the worthwhile, and try not to pay through the nose for it.

2. This is a direct rip off of the campaign that St Vincent de Paul ran in the 1990s, which featured some hot 90s babe decked out like a Frente reject and the slogan ‘It’s not hard to be original’. Remember those? They were AWESOME. God how I wanted a pair of holographic flares.

3. The highlighted objects are actually not cool. Someone screwed up badly here. They don’t look stylish, or quality, or even vintage. They’re just really loud colours. I found myself looking at the handbags billboard and thinking ‘actually those khaki/grey ultrasuede/neutral bags don’t look half-bad next to that Ridiculous Beaded Nappy Bag’.

I rest my case.

Has anyone else seen these billboards? What do youzzz reckon? Also, any embarrassing Dipper stories are more than welcome.

Good thing I never pretended to have my finger on the pulse with this blog, because Oh My Godfather am I behind the times when it comes to all the hep-cat things happening Down Town.

Take, for instance, The Clothing Exchange. This nifty little enterprise has been running for quite some time now, but it took a lazy leafing through the Age last week (and i think it was an old copy of the Age…tragic) for me to get on the bandwagon with this thing. Which I am now doing.

The basic idea of the Clothing Exchange is that you rock up at some kind of stylish venue with some non-dodgy clothes that you’re happy to part with. They screen your merch on arrival (so you’re not likely to get away with bringing your ratty old ‘Evanescence Tour ‘03′ t-shirt etc etc, though - importantly - clean and quality vintage is acceptable), and give you a button for each piece of clothing you put up for exchange. You then enter the event (after some lounging around quaffing cocktails) and trade your buttons for the cast-off gems of others. Genius, no?

It does cost monies to get in (around a lobster, I think), but this I imagine covers administration costs and so on. And you don’t have to fork out anything for the clothes you pick up.

The only drawback that I can see is that you can’t hold over your buttons if you have leftover ones. This means that there’s the possibility of paying to go to the event, giving up your quality threads, then not finding anything you like and getting no recompense. Which would suck. I don’t know if this happens very often, but hmmmm… especially because I’m not fast and furious in situations like this, so I could see myself being the one left holding the dodgy enchilada.

Nonetheless, I’m planning on attending one of these events at some vague future point. I’m a total sucker for anything exchange/co-op based. Plus the warm, fuzzy feeling of knowing you can participate in a rummage frenzy without adding to landfill/sweatshop output/wasted resources is undeniable. I suppose it’s the professional extension of clothes-swapping parties, which are always a blast. 

Has anyone been to an event like this before? Comments, questions, thoughts, feelings? In a society (oh how i hate that word, it’s so ”My Year 9 Essay is Concerned With Humanity’s Broader Problems PS My Soul is On Fire…And where’d I leave that Evanescence t-shirt?”) where the life-cycle of clothes is getting shorter and shorter, and we’re encouraged to consume-then-dispose, is shopping without money the way of the future?

Recently, I have been reminded several times of the importance of colour (especially in relation to scarcity) when it comes to valuing vintage.

Example: think of glomesh. And I bet, when you do, that you think of either white or tan glomesh, or, if you’re feeling really adventurous, black. The prices for such glomesh are (or should be) fairly modest. But the less common colours - say, gold and bronze - are going to fetch a premium. And the really rare, out there colours - I still regret not buying an apple green glomesh handbag - are going to be priced even higher.

The same can be said of many common objects. The basic fact of the matter is that when an item is mass produced, the aim is to make it appeal to as many people as possible. The most popular colours are likely to be the more conservative ones - black, brown, white/off white. They’re inoffensive. Ergo, more unusual colours are produced in smaller numbers, ergo these less common objects have more scarcity value (and are therefore more collectable) on the secondary market.

Another example - at the Art Deco exhibition currently showing at the NGV, there’s a fairly amazing deco-shaped bakelite radio in what can only be described as radium green. It’s Australian made, and according to the information accompanying it, very few green ones were made, as the Australian market (which I like to personify as Harold and Madge of Neighbours fame) was deemed too conservative to buy them. Most of these radios were produced in black or brown….neither of which were featured in the exhibition.

Think of those 1960s egg chairs by Eero Aarnio (?) et al. Nowadays, the more lurid and 60s-evoking the colour of the chair is, the more it’s likely to fetch at auction or retail.

So, I suppose this ‘colour premium’ is something to keep in mind when purchasing vintage, or purchasing items which are likely to become collectables one day. Choosing a colour that is striking, or particularly evocative of its age, is likely to be a wise investment. 

Personally, I love a splash of colour. It has so much ‘oooh aaaaahhh’ factor, which is never a bad thing. 

Would you pay a ’colour premium’? What colours do you think people are going to collect from the 90s/00s?
I’m thinking either those hideous citrus colours or matte deep colours for the 90s, and a whole lot of white and metallics and neon for now.

Need I say more?

This exhibition is as popular (it was packed out when i was there last Saturday, and it’s been open for over a month) as it is far reaching and ginormous. I was in there for three hours (until the security bums threw me out at closing time), and still didn’t feel like I had adequately gawped in wonder at the collection of more than 300 art deco goodies that were on display.

Whatever your bag is - fashion, jewellery, painting, photography, architecture, ceramics - this exhibition will give you something to love. Part of its raison d’etre is to demonstrate how far reaching Art Deco was, so the varietry (in scale, quality etc as well as medium) is quite extraordinary.

The exhibition was originally held at London’s Victoria and Albert museum, and the NGV is its sole Australian venue. However, there’s a definite Oz element that’s been added - many of the items appear to have been sourced from the gallery’s permanent collection, other Australian galleries and private collections in Melbourne.

Highlights for yours truly included Jean Dupas’ deco masterpiece, Les Perruches,  the wildly extravagant Cartier jewels, the evening gowns by Lanvin and Chanel, the near-incandescent green bakelite radio and the beautifully lit foyer from the Strand Palace Hotel, which gives the entire room a soft, creepy glow. Awesome.

There’s also some interesting detail about the cultures and historical developments that influenced the deco movement, its relation to Art Nouveau etc. Well worth the entry price (especially if you’re an eternal student, a la me).

One thing about the exhibition did bother me, however. While there was some mention of deco’s relationship to nationalism, there was not one shred of information about how closely tied deco was to German nationalism and the rise of fascism during the 1930s. This is such an obvious facet of late deco - the streamlining, the athleticism, the austerity of deco shapes and design was often tied to Nazi  propaganda prior to the outbreak of the war. I know it’s an ugly historical period, but that doesn’t seem like any reason to shy away from it; I wonder why it was blanked for the exhibition?

Hmmm. Anyway, this niggle aside, the Art Deco 1910 - 1939 (it names the year that WWII broke out! How could they ignore this??) exhibition is well worth the clams it’ll cost you to get in. Just make sure you leave a loooong time - half a day, with coffee break I reckon - to see it.

P.S. A note about parking - if you’re not taking the train to Flindo, which is probably the most sensible thing to do, try parking in the gardens near the shrine of remembrance or on Grant Street (the street that runs along the gardens, opposite the NGV). Paid carparks in that area are ridiculously expensive. There, aren’t I helpful?

I know you were there with me in the nineties. I know you saw that mosquito suspended in amber while watching Jurassic Park and thought it was the raddest thing of all time. And I know that this sense of history (or prehistory) gives amber a general air of mysterious otherworldliness. Which is why fake amber can be such a bummer. Who wants to find out that they’ve been duped by a dead bug in some plastic goop, and have no possibility of reincarnating dinosaurs? Not me.

Trouble is, amber is the sort of material (like jet) that is relatively easy to fake. See, amber is tree resin which has fossilised, and the look and feel of it is often (and sometimes convincingly) reproduced using synthetic resins.

Not only this - there is major confusion between the substance that can properly be called ‘amber’, and something called ‘copal’, which is tree resin that is several million years old, but has not yet fully transformed into amber.

But how can you test amber to make sure you’ve got the genuine article? Well, there are a number of ways, but many of them are wildly impractical and require specialist knowledge, skills, or equipment. So here are a couple of basic, risk-free ways of testing amber to work out whether it’s ridgy-didge:

1. The Float Test

I saw this one on Antiques Roadshow. Essentially, amber will float in a solution of water and salt, but synthetic imitations (and copal) will sink.

2. The Static Test

This is so fun - I think I may have done it at Scienceworks or similar as a kid. Amber has an electrical charge, so if you rub it quickly against a piece of soft fabric, it should be able to easily pick up small fragments of paper.

There you go - maybe you should try testing your amber to see how it holds up. There are many more precise tests you can use if you really want to be sure, but these two have an irresistible Play-School level of science that I just can’t get enough of. 

Are there any authenticity tests that you love, or have found ineffective? Or have you ever realised that you own fake amber/jet/pearls etc? 

P.S. I haven’t quite worked out how to reincarnate dinosaurs, but watch this space.

I’m a fairly honest sort of a lady, so I’ll tell you straight up that the title is a lie - there’s no way known that yours truly is getting out of savers in five minutes. or ten. or…you get the idea. I’m a hopeless case. But here are my best strategies for getting in and out of a huge op shop/second hand emporium as quick as you can.

It will be especially useful if, like me, you can’t go past an op shop, even if you’re running late/your parking meter has run out/you have a house bursting with crap. Here we go:

1. Prioritise

No one has the concentration to look at every section of savers et al with the care and attention necessary to ensure you haven’t missed a bargain. the last time i tried, i walked out with three bags of junk and a near-migraine. so prioritise. I go for jewellery, then dresses and coats, then the rest of the ladies wear and shoes and homewares. and if i want to get out in under an hour, this is pushing it. Make sure you give your attention to your favourite thing (or the specific thing you’re looking for) first. 

2.  Look differently

Without a doubt, the worst thing to sift through in big op shops is jeans. Why? they all look the same, they’re jammed together, and it gets really hard to care when you’ve yanked the billionth ‘relaxed fit’ mum-style target jeans out of the rack.

Rather than give up in a situation like this, or - worse - spend 20 minutes laboriously flicking through every pair - here’s what I do. First, look at the bottom of the garments - this way you’ll be able to tell straight away if something is too short/long, or has a hideous cuff or other detail. Then look along the sides - this allows you to eliminate any colours or fabrics that you don’t like. Only bother pulling something out if it has passed both of these tests.

3. Use touch

Second only to the hideous Mountain of Denim in the time-consuming stakes are the racks upon racks of black jackets/dresses/trousers, which have you reaching for the most frightful dynasty-like garment on the rack because it draws your eye.

The quickest way to blitz through such a rack is to run your hand along the sleeves/sides while walking along - a quality fabric such as wool, silk, suede or even a decent, heavy man-made fabric will be instantly recognisable in a rack that contains 90% cheap polyester. This will also help you spot anything amazing that has been shoved to the back of the rack.

4. Use labelling selectively

Savers and friends might think they’re helping you by sorting things into sizes, but anyone who’s been to one of these stores will know that their sorting system is woefully inadequate, and that an average sized woman is likely to find great things in most of the size categories. Personally, I ignore the sizing and try to whisk through as much as possible - I’ve even had great finds in the children’s wear section (a bit tight across the shoulders, but what the hell…)

Colour sorting, however, can be useful. If you know you hate orange, be attentive and skip the whole section of orange, rather than getting halfway through and thinking ‘man, they sure have a lot of orange today’. Sleeve sorting is useful, as is sorting by skirt length (not everywhere does this, but it’s good). The main thing is to recognise how things are arranged before you start looking, so that you don’t get lost among the ‘too cute’ midriff baring t-shirts and are never heard from again etc.

5. Be methodical

When in a huge op, it can be really easy to end up looking at the same rack three times and missing whole areas completely. Have a starting point and proceed methodically, even if you have well-meaning friends yelling ‘heyyy, come hava looka this’. Because then you’ll get distracted and start looking at what they’re looking at…then, three hours later…

This is as true of homewares as it is of clothes. Better to look once thoroughly and then move on, rather than go back to the same rack half a dozen times because you got distracted and ‘might have missed something’.

6. Cull before you hit the changerooms

OK. You’re at the changeroom with a trolley full of crap and the clock’s a-ticking. Tackle the problem head on - anything that you feel lukewarm about, get rid of - hang it straight on the reject rack. This strategy alone has saved me many smelly hours in savers over the years.

7. Take something off as soon as you know it’s bad

Ever get something too-small halfway on and keep trying, even though you know it’s going to look crapola if you get it on, which is unlikely? Ever tie something in new and interesting ways, or yank it around to try to make it look good? Don’t. Unless it’s something that can be fixed by relatively simple alterations, take the thing off and reject it before you get sucked into the savers time warp.

8 Don’t dither about what to buy

If you’re not sure, don’t buy it. Every time I stick to this rule, I’m glad I did.

Well, that’s about it. I’m a lot better at being ruthless in savers/large ops than i used to be. If I ever manage to live up to my own claims and get out in five minutes, I’ll let you know.

What’s your world record savers time? Further strategies always welcome.

If you don’t know what a head vase is, don’t worry - it’s pretty self explanatory. They’re small vases (3 -8 inches high, depending on how deluxe the model is) in the shape of a head. The head in question usually belongs to a young glamorous woman.

And aside from general retro value - these babies were mostly produced in the 50s and 60s - there’s something wonderfully lobotomy/zombie like about the whole ‘hot babe dressed to the nines who is apparently missing a brain but never mind we’ll jam some violets in there’  vibe of the head vase phenomenon.

Like most retro-styled porcelains, prices are being hiked for these ladies all over the place. Even standard ones are selling for over $100 at Camberwell market and at antique fairs. And that’s not in mint condition either, as due to the amount of appendages (eyelashes, fingers, hats, earlobes etc) attached to the vases, they are particularly susceptible to breakage and wear. A mint condition head vase will probably set you back a good couple of hundy, and the more detailed it is/the more accessories it has, the more pricey it’s likely to be.

According to The Headvase Museum (which is THE place to go if you want to hang out with crowds of these crazy brainless chicks), these vases began as inexpensive ornaments in florist shops, and each vase would have only cost a couple of dollars when it was originally for sale. Most were produced in Japan, where costs were lower, but the USA was also a hub of production, as there was definitely an appetite for the glamorama that the vases represented - particularly for those cast as celebrities (as far as I know the most famous one is the Jackie O one, but many were modelled around movie stars and haute couture models).

Like with most things vintage, a hallmark never goes astray. Look out for the American ones, which usually fetch at least marginally more than the Japanese ones. The hallmark will either be pressed into the porcelain, painted on, or written on a sticker attached to the vase. Many of these stickers are now missing, so you often have to date/price the piece based on its style. But if you see one, inspect it closely for marks.

One of the reasons these vases are getting so expensive is the same as the reason bakelite is getting so pricey - these items were, for the most part, mass produced for a wide market. They were made of cheap materials, and weren’t built to last. And that’s exactly how people treated them. So if you’re lucky enough to find one in anything above ‘fair’ condition (i.e. some wear and non-critical damage) in an op/flea market for cheap, rest assured that you’ve done well.

I think they’re kind of irresistable. I don’t own one, but I’ve thought about it…and still am. Ask your grandmother whether she ever threw one in the bin (she’ll probably call them ‘pieces of tat’), and be prepared to wince at the answer.

Anyone out there own one? Or have you seen one in an op? I would not be at all surprised if I came across one at the Posh Oppe Shop et al.

I have a soft spot for this fair - partially because it’s in my hood (with da pimpz and da honeyzz etc etc) and partially because it was at this fair, once upon a time, that my interest in all things old and ridiculous passed from ‘moderate’ to ‘out of control’.

That said, this fair was pretty much what you’d expect if you’re a regular at these things. Same dealers, same grumbles (a tip for antiques fairs - go late in the day to hear whether the vendors are grumbling at each other over the amount of sales they’ve had. About an hour before closing time it’s like they forget there’s other people around and start pissing and moaning about how crowds are down due to the football &c. It’s what i call ‘the witching hour’. And it’s a great time to haggle).

This fair’s an annual rotary fair, so it does cost monies to get in ($10 full, $8 concession). But it’s totally worth it for so many reasons:

1. You see stuff there that you’re not going to see in an op shop any time soon.
2. You can tell what’s becoming more popular, and then keep an eye out elsewhere for lower priced versions.
3. You can talk to like-minded peeps and pick their brains. 
4. It helps to develop your eye for picking out the treasure at flea markets/ops/school fetes/garage sales.
5. There’s usually a hilarious soundtrack, most likely featuring Rod Stewart’s swing album or the best of the Eagles.

This time around, I saw a whole lot more ‘russian’ action - every man and his dog seemed to be selling a little piece of communist history. Interesting. There were also a lot of frog-and-bowls (ie rose bowls), and an absolute truckload of carnival glass.

In the end, i made two purchases - the first was a giant, lucite flamingo brooch, manufactured between 1948 and 1959 (you can tell because of the material, and because it uses rivets on the clasp rather than glue, which was/is used on more contemporary plastic pins).

The second was something of an exciting find. I was looking for a birthday present for my mum (and was really tempted to get this gorgeous tulip-shaped green glass victorian salt cellar) when i found a photo portrait of the ‘Melbourne Racing Club - Riders in the 5th Invitation Stakes, 1955′. Why is this exciting? Why, because it featured a relative of ours - a semi-well known jockey by the name of Paddy Glennon, who i’d never clapped eyes on before in my life. i couldn’t believe it. it cost a pretty penny, but it was totally worth it - i never expected to find a piece of family history at an antique fair (ps i am also related to the original Uncle Fester, according to family legend, but that’s a whole other post).

All in all, another great day. Antiques fairs are always a blast, though i feel i lower the average attendance age by about fifty years…and all the vendors seem a bit cagey when talking to young folk. Am i the only one under 70 going to these things?