But…It felt very foreboding from the moment we entered the front door. Not only was it dark and not too clean, the walls seemed to talk. To me, the feel was that this wasn’t a happy home, or hadn’t been for quite some time. The carpets, old Orientals, were so worn that you could barely make out any pattern. The kitchen was circa 1950 and the kitchen and bath upstairs were even older. Rooms with aged trunks, WWII uniforms and other items from days gone by made one really feel this house was where time stood still. It seemed like a woman’s touch was once there, but left long ago.
This beautiful hand painted paper mache pin was in a box with some other miscellaneous do dads – someone had missed that is was of value. It was Russian and signed. I grabbed it immediately. It sold right away. I debated keeping it myself because it was smashing on a black cashmere scarf I had but I knew it would go fast. And it did.
But I kept this clock that was on the living room wall near the front entrance. I saw it as I was cashing out. I was drawn to it because it was so retro. Not only was it still ticking and keeping time, it had the original tags on it from when it was first purchased – so in more than one way, it was keeping time. I bought it and immediately because I liked the leaves around the face. It is a working clock from the United Clock Manufacturing Corp. and still has its original tag on it. The tag has a warranty that obviously is outdated, but it was like this clock was hung on the wall so many years ago and never touched again – not even to remove the tag. All I could think was that someone bought this new and it just stayed frozen in time, just like most things in this house.
There was one gorgeous frame in a parlor that was huge and ornate and very old. It held a horrible piece of artwork in red, yellow and golds that screamed ugly, but the ivory inlay on the dark wood was spectacular. Priced at over $300, it was beyond my means but was one thing of real beauty. If I needed a large frame, I would have gotten it in a minute.
Throughout the rooms in this house, there were only indications of times ago – there appeared to be nothing of this day and age. But for one exception – a box of Hustler magazines in a cardboard box that left me feeling a bit off.
After I made my purchases, I couldn’t wait to get out of there. For days, I couldn’t shake the sad feeling that stayed with me after being in the house where time seemed to stand still. But the clock is still ticking.
Fourth Estate Sale