The sky looked like the hands of god had smacked together two massive chalkboard erasers; there were lots of clouds and lots of grey. It was on the verge of raining (but never did), and this kept the outdoor vendors on their toes. If you like taking pictures for blogs, the Chicago Antique Market is a visual feast; I kept wishing I had dragged the Escape Goat along. She could have trained her wizened lens on any number of items, like a tea kettle bust, for instance.
Speaking of the Escape Goat...the more I wandered around I kept thinking of her run-in with Dot the puppy at a flea market this summer. Dot was a cute puppy, and I bet she's bigger now. The point is, the Chicago Antique Market--while fun to troll around--is a huge rip-off! It's just a gigantic overpriced flea market masquerading as an "antique market." Since it's a metropolitan area I think they want it to sound posh, but don't be fooled! Fortunately, the Escape Goat photo documented her day at the flea market. If you doubt my theory about the Chicago Flea Market masquerading as the Chicago "Antique" Market, go to her blog of ill-repute to see a (proudly) self-professed flea market, and you will probably agree. The only difference is the setting: urban versus rural; otherwise, you will note that the wares are of a similar caliber. Also, her flea market has its own mascot--Dot the puppy.
I think the Marquis said it best when she made the apt comparison, "I could buy a neck scarf for twenty-five cents at a thrift shop, and they're selling the same neck scarves for twelve dollars here!" Truly, it was a flea market run amok by commerce. I think they should change the name from the Chicago Antique Market, to the Chicago Yard Sale and Swap Meet. I'm thinking about starting an online petition on the matter.
These two abominable guys were slapped up on a red board looking really cool. I especially like how the guy with the long beard has a gold tooth. His eyelashes are nice as well. The other one looks a bit more pensive.
I liked this guy so much that I had to take a picture of him without his friend. He even has a beauty mark.
I think this is a mask of a burning jaguar. He was hanging out with Goldtooth and Pensive. My favorite jaguar of all time is Jet Jaguar, of Godzilla vs Megalon fame. Indeed, Godzilla vs Megalon is among my top three of the Godzilla legacy. The guys at Mystery Science Theater 3000 even covered Godzilla vs Megalon, and the best thing about it was that they "translated" the Jet Jaguar theme song. If you watch it you can see Jet Jaguar in action. Jet Jaguar's powers include, shooting lasers, growing several times his original size (to match Godzilla's height), and the amazing ability to turn his own artificial intelligence on and off. Why would he bother? Because he's one of the good guys! He'll even put up with that irritating piece of shit kid, Roku. This kid is perhaps one of the most irritating kids I have ever seen in a movie--a bold claim. The only kid possibly worse than Roku, is the kid in Problem Child. Just compare for yourself--here is a clip of Roku in action (okay, so he doesn't appear until 3 minutes and 22 seconds into the clip), and here is the little bastard from Problem Child. Both of those kids are little shits.
This statement begs many questions: How many people really do what they love; if you could quantify it, what would that statistic be? What about if you do what you hate? Do you think there are more people hating what they do, or loving what they do? Who painted this in such sloppy penmanship, is he or she left or right handed?
More masks. In this case, I think I prefer the devil to the angel. But Goldtooth is still my favorite. He must be something in-between, but still that type of guy your mother warned you about.
We also saw a really weird Saint Francis.
Interestingly, Saint Francis was in the same booth as these guys...
On second thought, really, I wasn't surprised.
Can't you just hear the auction barker shouting, "Divisive iconological imagery: Saint Francis, OR...
Uncle Tom and Aunt Jemimah! Do I hear 20?" Pick your poison...
It was hard to concentrate on St. Francis with a dumpster looming in the background. Dumpsters without irony? Impossible!
If you doubted my flea market theory, please allow the platinum-plated tiger to reinforce that hypothesis. I like his aggressive posturing. Who would dare pick that guy up and take him home? I know a man who accidentally cut off his finger with a lawn mower and his cat ate it. Felines are really ferocious--even if they become domesticated.
The Marquis was disturbed by this ceramic squirrel. She was suspicious of its expression. I kind of blew it off at the time, but in retrospect it's very mean looking.
This lamp looks like it could provide the perfect lighting for a Jack the Ripper crime, doesn't it? I think it's very Spitalfields. It's very Jack the Ripper.
You might want to believe that these two guys are salt and pepper shakers, but they aren't. They are just two gay roosters looking for the queer pride parade. My parents had two gay roosters when I was growing up. They preferred each other to the hens--their names were Snappy Sam and Black Beauty--okay--totally uncreative names, but gay names nonetheless. Even as children we discerned their homosexual tendencies--those names are perfect for two queer roosters! They aren't the only foul to take up with members of the same gender.
Below, the Marquis inspects a table of handbags. She came away from the table with the vendor's card, address, phone number, passport, birth date and social security number (who demanded the Marquis drive to Willmette and visit her farm of range-fed vintage clothes). I believe you can locate her there now, sparing over the price of neck scarves, if I'm not mistaken.
This was one of my favorite items at the Chicago Antique Show--a busted up lock on green valor.
I also really liked this dish of letters.
I love the below curiosa. If you enjoy trolling through countless images of similar design, go here, to BibliOdyssey. This is the kind of stuff I could really see the Weasel getting into--it reminds you of Science class. My mom is a science teacher and when I spoke with her on the phone yesterday she mentioned that her class had been dissecting grasshoppers, and that her advanced biology class had moved on to cats. She said that she checks each lab kit when the students return them so that no one will steal a scalpel.
All of this talk of specimens reminds me of the movie Angels and Insects. Anagrams...Insect / Incest...you get the picture. Mystery...intrigue...the Oracle of Kevin Bacon.
My mom also told me that you should never leave your classes unattended--besides--it's illegal in most states. To reiterate the importance of this she told me a story once about a time she left a class unattended. Obviously, horseplay had transpired in her absence. When she returned the entire class had surrounded the chalkboard and was fidgeting with it curiously. One student--a massive football player--had his back pressed up against the board. Upon seeing this spectacle my mom instructed everyone to return to their seats. Everyone listened but the massive football player. Again, she instructed him to return to his seat and he began to stammer and sweat and plead, "But...but...Missus--" and he was prone to mischievous antics so my mom would have none of it. She told him to sit down. When he finally stepped away from the chalkboard (which he was apparently holding up) the entire thing came crashing to the ground.
I took a picture of this turtle shell because it reminded me of a scene in a book I was reading. In the book, a man gives the woman he hopes to marry a pet turtle with her initials set in diamonds on the turtle's shell. The turtle would drag its shell around their massive home and wander the empty halls and meander in the gardens. So the woman's younger sister became more concerned about the turtle escaping (with all of thosee diamonds on its back). Eventually, the turtle disappeared and no one thought anything of it. Had that been a Dickens novel, the turtle would have popped up again and tied the plot neatly together in a perfect red bow. But the people in this story were excessively wealthy and the War eventually ravaged their lands and societal prestige and privilege. Should you plan to give your betrothed a diamond encrusted turtle, let that be a lesson to you. Give her a hermit crab instead. They don't cover as much ground as a turtle.
I love these old presidential-election buttons. I really hope that Barack Obama runs in the next presidential election. This is his website. Here's a cool piece on the BBC that you can listen to. When he ran for the Senate I was a very active volunteer at his campaign headquarters, so I feel especially invested in him. If you want to check out his voting record as a junior senator for the state of Illinois, go here. If you want to get involved in the next election cycle, go here. If you want to sign a (serious) online petition to encourage Obama to run in 2008, go here. I kind of think he won't run--because his resume (and voting record) is so thin--but if the public propels him into the election, who knows? Maybe he'll end up on the ticket as VP--but I hope he goes big for the presidency.
Look at this guy cockin' around! He was sort of confidently strolling between the malt mixers and martini shakers. I hope he found a good home.
All of the more expense items were on display inside. If you like brass figurines, lampshades with tassels, and overpriced vintage movie posters (that you can buy cheaper online) you'll want to go indoors. I noticed that some of the dealers positioned outside had equally interesting items, but I think the only thing determining where the vendors are positioned is how much the vendors are willing to pay. I'm sure the spots inside are pricier than the spots outside.
So I looked up BICARBON. NATRIC., and I think it's either a dated spelling, or a misspelling? I think it should be BICARBON. NITRIC. If so--whoa--check out the things you can do with that stuff. Kind of funny seeing it next to an average household item like baking soda. Well...come to think of it, baking soda isn't so benign, either.
After all of that antiquing we needed some nourishment, so we stopped at a really interesting place called the Breakfast Club. The best thing about this place is that it appears to have been made of bubble-gum, or dipped in Pepto Bismol and left out to dry. Or Pepto-Bismol ice-cream...seriously. Read this.
If you ever go to the Chicago Antique Market, we both recommend the Breakfast Club for a quick bite to eat--especially if you are in the mood for brunch. The Marquis is a vegetarian and she was pleased with the meatless options.
After a delicious meal, we walked all the way to the Loop. The weather was nice, so the walk was fun. We talked about several subjects; among them, Mini Coopers and driving a clutch. When it was time to part ways the Marquis would not even pose for a farewell shot. The only thing I could get out of her was this frosty palm with RED RUM engraved in blood.
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