Cool Stuff: Pictures from the Point

For one reason or another, we've missed the Alameda Point Antiques and Collectibles Faire for the last few months. But Nick and I were determined to get there yesterday, and it was wonderful to be back. The weather was gorgeous, the people-watching excellent, and the offerings enticing. I was especially drawn to the wealth of vintage-industrial wares at the Faire this month. Oh, to live in a loft!

(I wasn't the only local blogger snapping shots at the flea market, of course. It's fascinating how different people can experience the same thing in such varied ways, isn't it? Hannah, for one, focused on whimsical vintage ephemera. I have a feeling Victoria was there, too, and will soon be posting her own snaps. I wonder what drew her eye?)

Here's what caught mine:

All that great stuff, and what did we bring home? Four vintage melamine plates for $4. Like most everyone else, we're trying to curtail our spending as much as possible right now. Sigh.

(P.S. My previous trips to the Point are documented here and here.)

That's Random: An Imagined History

Does this happen to anyone else? Whenever Nick and I are at the flea market or find ourselves poking around in a dusty old antiques shop, we're always drawn like metal to a magnet to the jumbled bins and boxes filled with old photographs.

This past weekend, in Alameda, we spent a good half-hour sifting through the contents of one such box and passing stacks of old black-and-white and sepia snapshots back and forth. How, we wondered, did these family photos come to be discarded like so much trash, tossed into a shoebox and set out for curious passersby to rummage through in search of nothing more than a few moments' amusement?

We chuckled at the strange, old-fashioned faces and the modest, voluminous bathing costumes. Whatever became of these rough-faced men standing so uncomfortable in their Sunday suits, to the young women with their elaborately marcelled hair, to the children in their home-sewn dressing gowns and short pants?

To fill in their unknowable stories, we whispered invented anecdotes about the nameless subjects of the forgotten images. "Oh, there's Aunt Beatrice chaperoning Helen's trip to the city. She was a battleaxe, that one. Nothing got past her." Or, "This was right before John shipped out. He was killed in the War, you know. Dorothy never got over it."

We goggled at the clothes and the hats and the shoes -- my god, so chic! Back then, going for a ride on the ferry or even taking a leisurely Sunday drive was an event to dress for. I tripped out a little bit on it, standing there under a flimsy flea market umbrella in my shorts and flip-flops, my hair pulled back in a sloppy weekend ponytail. Among the other hardships I'd be so very ill-equipped to deal with, had I been born in a different era, I think I would've had a nervous breakdown just trying to get out of the house.

We wound up buying a handful of the dog-eared photos. Our little game was fun, after all, and the pictures were only a few cents each. I'm not sure what we'll do with them. But somehow, these people -- strangers to us, every last one of them, and probably all long dead -- already felt like a part of the family.

Cool Stuff: One Faire Day

Nick and I had a rare treat on Sunday: Both of us were able to slip out early to the Alameda Antiques & Collectibles Faire while the kids were at friends' houses after Saturday-night sleepovers. Normally only one of us gets to go (that would be me), or the whole family attends together but we can't manage to get everyone out of the house until later -- and then we have to listen to the kids whine the entire time about how we're torturing them by dragging them out to look at a bunch of "old stuff." I'm sure their future therapists will hear all about this abusive behavior someday ...

(Question for you other flea-marketing parents: How do you do it? I see kids there with their parents every month, and they don't look like they're on the brink of mutiny like our kids always do. We've even tried to bribe them with the promise of churros and a small budget to find their own treasures, or attempted to make a game out of spotting things -- but all to no avail. If you have secrets for making flea markets a reasonably enjoyable family affair, I'd love to hear them.)

Anyway, I'm happy to report that the Faire's new location isn't much different from the old location, and that the gorgeous view of SF remains intact. We didn't have an agenda this month -- I'd already blogged the Faire and there was no one thing we were on the hunt for. In fact, we came home with only one $7 ceramic dish in which to toss keys on our entry table. (Sadly, Nick would not let me take home the cement garden deer, below.) But it was so nice to just wander around hand-in-hand, checking out the wares, chatting with the vendors, and enjoying the sunshine.

I snapped some pictures of things that happened to catch my eye, and only realized later that there were a few themes at work: I seemed to be drawn to turquoise (surprise, surprise), patinaed metal and shiny silver objects, old bottles, objects from the ocean, and, um, disembodied heads.

A photographic scrapbook of the day:

Mark Your Calendar: Alameda Point Antiques and Collectibles Faire

It's shaping up to be a busy weekend for art and antique lovers in the Bay Area ...

After you hit the Oakland Art Murmur on Friday night and the Art Deco & Modernism Sale on Saturday, treat yourself to a visit to the Alameda Point Antiques and Collectibles Faire on Sunday, June 3.

I have to admit that I feel like the super-stylish and talented Victoria Smith (aka sfgirlbybay) sort of owns blogging about the Antiques Faire. (Read her tip-filled write-ups here).

Still, I've been haunting this giant flea market almost every month for years now, and I can't let the weekend pass by without encouraging anyone within reasonable driving distance to check it out.

Held the first Sunday of each month, the Faire boasts more than 800 vendors, many of whom travel hundreds of miles to man their booths. The wares on display range from fun and funky tchochkes for a couple bucks apiece to pristine, sought-after vintage and antique furniture for hundreds of dollars and up.

Among the booty I've snagged there: An antique carved wooden Asian screen ($15), vintage blown-glass wine jugs and green glass seltzer bottles ($10 each), French linens, lab beakers that I use as vases ($5 each), a vintage metal birdcage ($5), barkcloth yardage, silk brocade curtain panels from the 1940s ($50 for the set), McCoy pottery ($10 and up), a rewired French silver-and-glass chandelier ($85), a weathered circular mirror mosaic ($50), a pair of sunbleached deer antlers ($3) ... seriously, I could go on and on.

Most months, though, I don't actually buy much. I just like to wander around people-watching, collecting ideas, and enjoying a churro or a gyro from one of the many food booths while soaking up some sunshine by the water.

If you need any more incentive to go, consider this: Sunday is the very last time that the event is being held at the decommissioned Alameda Point Naval Air Station, which has absolutely breathtaking vistas of San Francisco and the Bay. On clear, sunny day -- which, fingers crossed, this Sunday will turn out to be -- you feel like you can literally reach out and touch the Bay Bridge and the skyscrapers of downtown San Francisco. (My favorite line about the East Bay, stolen from erstwhile Oakland mayor Jerry Brown, is that "It's closer to San Francisco than San Francisco." Take a stroll around Alameda Point and you'll see how true this is.) Next month, the Antiques Faire moves to a nearby spot along the Oakland Inner Harbor.

The gates open at 6 a.m. for serious treasure hunters willing to fork over the $15 "early entrance" fee. The price drops to $10 at 7:30 and to $5 at 9 a.m. I like to get there on the early side -- though I've rarely made it before 8 -- just so I can beat some of the crowds and feel confident that I haven't missed anything really great before someone else snapped it up. But you can arrive at just about any hour before the vendors start packing up at 3 and have a lovely time wandering around, looking for bargains, and gathering inspiration.

See you there!

(Photos from Antiques by the Bay, Inc.)