("YIKES!")

Mrs. H heard the rumor, a friend of a friend was a Dealer-he had closed up his shop-its contents in a storage locker…he was willing to sell any and all.

We were on the hunt! The who, what, when and where needed to be determined. Immediately.

Preferably sooner than that.

Part Holmes and Watson, part Lewis and Clarke, part Martin and Lewis ("I"M THE BOSS; I GET TO BE DINO!") we franticly made contact.

Racing off in Big Red trying to beat other pickers to the treasures.

We formulated our strategy. ("BUY QUILTS!BUY PYREX,BUY FURNITURE! DON'T BUY PYREX! NO SMALLS!)

 ( "OK well no smalls unless it cool stoneware, or maybe really, really good Pyrex".“DRIVE FASTER !”)

It’s one of the ways that our wonderfully pretty little store is created; by linebackers.

Steroid enhanced, amphetamine fueled, cheerleader motivated linebackers. Both of us.

Arriving with a screech, we parked illegally (" TICKET-SCHMICKET!)

Three storage lockers awaited us, open and bursting with all manner of treasure. A few construction workers from a nearby site were eyeing our lockers.(" REMAIN CALM")

We charged in, a sweet take home pile was created in the hall. Mrs. H  shaking her head in rejection of some of my selections, me secretly returning some of hers.

We grabbed some furniture

We grabbed some Russel Wright to replenish our stock

But mostly it was art. Nautical themed - sails, docks, shoreline-("TUGBOATS!")

All perfect for spring.

We’ll clean it up this morning and have it ready for Robyn to curate this afternoon.

When you come in to see our new gallery wall I’m sure it will look as if created by gentle souls with kind hearts.

You’ll know better though, won’t you?

where do you find all this stuff ? that is a question dealers field daily. there are of course lots of answers one could give on any given day, but the jist of it is "never you mind!"

a small insight would be this - you know how when your street pulls together a block wide yard sale day and all the neighbors go around buying all the other neighbors stuff up ? dealers and pickers are just that but on a much larger and often heavier scale.

pickers buy stuff from me that i see up for grabs at st. lawrence market. i buy stuff from some top secret dealers - never you mind - and sell to other top secret dealers, some of whom you may have stood in line next to at the seventh sister while waiting to buy owl and goose juice.

it is a big city, toronto,  but my shop on roncesvalles is truly part of a village. same can be said for the  community of pickers and dealers who keep the game afoot... in a carnie folk salt of the earth kind of way.

Gorgeous, right?  Although my camera cannot do it justice, the colours on this piece are stunning.  Rich, earthy greens and blues, vibrant reds and oranges..she's a beaut!  Our elephant is an original French subway poster circa 1912, linen backed, and in excellent condition.  Oh, and hey, you also get a peek at that cobalt blue depression glass Mrs H was talking about a few posts back, just hanging out underneath elephant extrordinaire.  Pretty excellent little corner of the shop, don't you think?

We Pickers pick, it's constant in our lives, couldn't stop if we wanted to. If there's ten minutes to kill, I'll kill twenty at a yard sale, at family gatherings I rummage through my Dads basement, I'm a shameless garbage picker...it goes on and on.

And the experiences bring me joy.

Last Sunday evening it was raining, I'd just watched my son win his playoff game, I had that inner calm one gets when they see their children succeed. Driving home I noticed Marks' shop was open, compulsive, Picker Dave stopped the Big Red truck.

Marks' shop is intimidating, it has a rusty nails/broken glass feel to it...taxidermy alligators..inarticulate graffiti on barn board... naked, armless dolls...Paint-By-Numbers clowns. 

The place is well beyond charming.

Mark was inside, alone, engulfed in a Marley-esqe aroma, playing a 60's Stratocaster.  He didn't greet me, didn't even look up from the guitar; he knew the music was welcoming enough.

I spent a long time picking through his stuff, listening to the music and watching the rain fall outside. I'd point at an item and Mark would silently mouth some random price.

Mark stopped playing and we chatted a bit; we talked of our sons and we talked of our work.

"You wanna have a look in my basement?"

Yes, Mark, that's what I want.

Dusty, dark and spectacular!

I found a pop bottle for Annie, that planter Amy was looking for 3 months ago, a crock for my Dad, an enamel advertising sign for a photographer friend and 20 other little items for Mrs H to display.

It was magical

It's why we Pickers pick.

i blithely traipse along in my happy haze of making pretty displays and shopping for hot vintage and cherry bomb croissants with jam for a few simple reasons.

robyn. patti. dave. alina. laura and darby.

the magical realm i am allowed to exist within is mainly because of these impressively responsible and charming souls. my name is on the marquee but their hearts are in the shop. sweet deal huh ?

it occurred to me after i posted the big bar rebrand announcement that i had completely gooned picker dave. you see, i don't actually do construction. dave amer does. for 25 years. really well thank you very much. i choose the pretty colors and i leave the room and things magically appear in my absence. whoa.

robyn takes care of restoring order to the store after i "work" a day. she tries to always makes sure i know what i am talking about. she is the back bone of mrs huizenga. a good looking backbone at that.

patti takes care of nitty gritty details and smiles like your cool aunt who always made you feel good. alina has more style in her left leg than most people and their families. laura covers our butts and saves our asses. and darby ? the high priestess of the cheshire smile.

they are just words, but thank you. i really like it here.

hoy there hold on sailor, as a bartender aye ? loved the pace. loved the cash. fringe benefits were great.

recently a brilliant opportunity came knocking on my door -  would i be interested in revisiting bar culture and upcycling a local watering hole ? hells ya ! thus were launched 47 lists and the quest for the perfect color to drink to. harder than it sounds by the way. makes me thirsty just thinking about it.

this is a sneak peek into the work zone the steam roller of progress brought through this week. check that brick, saucy huh ? you sure are going to look good downing a zywiec in front of that scenery ...and go.

There is also a set of Susie Cooper Wedding Band pattern dishes from the '30's.

A very subtle deco style in pink, blue and grey shades.

Think you might be able to shoehorn them into the shop?

Thanks,

Dave

Picker Dave here...I do happen to have a collection of Cobalt blue Moderntone  depression glass;  35 pieces or so that have been together since 1934. I admit I am attached to them, maybe in a foster parent sort of way.. but I'll bring them to the shop this morning.

Will you promise not to break up the set?

And maybe ask Robyn to find them a cosy spot by the window so they can see the street?

Find them a nice home?

No Greek weddings.

thanks

Dave

he immediately retreated to radio silence with the thought that the picking was more suited to his sensibilites. i have to say, the shop has never looked better so i tend to agree. the thing about picking full time is that stuff does tend to accumulate. and bonds are formed. and just how thin is that line between accumulating and hoarding ? that question is possibly a low blow but

honestly ? there is a whack of depression glass-cobalt and amber and red sweet jesus- and i have peeked into a box of it on the back of a truck. is it in my shop ? no. it is not.

poole pottery ? boxes of it. the most stunning green wood kitchen utensils that never met a dishwasher i ever did see. in my inventory ? nope.

i am now going with the public taunting method so popular in these modern times. i think it is only reasonable to expect that stock purchased for the store should be in the store.

however,  it doesn't take in to account that thing that happens to us pickers sometimes. we fall for it. pieces get their hooks into us too. i know it has happened to me when i put a piece on the floor priced for a king. a blue enamel bowl for 65 dollars. that kind of thing.

i know it has happened to dave because i don't have these pieces. his house does. boxes and boxes of treasure. are they that much closer to being in the store, after this public outing ? betcha. i'll let you know.

if you don't live in the big smoke you may not know that winter is kind of a big deal for us here, a few years back we had to call in the military to shovel the sidewalks. (insert canned laughter here, for our winters are tidy little events compared to the bulk of the country, it just seems to bamboozle us city folk somewhat)

roncesvalles feels like a hopeful pussy willow these days. our street is blossoming despite the season of the snow. so much talent just pulled up and dropped down we feel the vibration of it down loro. mrs h is amused and encouraged by the sudden pinwheel of talent featured on the avenue.

The Store is busting a gut with fresh stock , perhaps before the snow takes these brave pussy willows you will save them and come see me for a vase ? or you could always go see sara up at sweetpeas and forget i was condoning liberating branches from a neighbors tree. yes, that might be better. just come for the vase then.