One of the most challenging aspects of operating a resale business for antiques is determining the price at which to sell items.  Each piece often requires an investment in time to research the asking and sale price of similar items.  It is important to find a value for the item that honors my own investment, without overpricing it and losing potential buyers.

It is easy to find items and even easier to fall in love with them.  Each piece has its own story and energy that attracts me to it.  Some are harder to let go of than others.  For these, I will often catch myself attempting to assign them a higher value than they may truly be worth.  Others carry less attachment, and I am willing to part with them as quickly as possible.

After over a decade of collecting beautiful things, my home is full of items of value.  I was reminded of this when a group of friends stopped for a visit for the first time.  The young son of one of my friends, after walking through the house, commented to me, "Your house is like a museum!  Everything is so old-timey!"

His youthful perspective allowed me to see my home and its countless
treasures with fresh eyes.  I realized that, though I appreciate every family heirloom, each original piece of artwork, and all the beautiful glassware that adorn the rooms of my home; none of it mattered in comparison to the value of the friends and family
(including our four-footed companions) that filled my home and heart in that moment. The only truly valuable items in my home, are the ones that have a story; the ones connected to the people and places I love the most.

After my friends departed, I walked through my home enjoying the energetic imprint they left behind. As I did so, I was drawn to one item in particular.  I am blessed to have an original photograph of my great-grandparent's farm and the birthplace of Two in the Attic Antiques.  It was taken sometime in the late 1930s or very early 40s, not long after
their marriage.  Holding it, I knew that of all the items in my home, this one, despite its minimal monetary value, is priceless to me.  For me, it is a physical representation of my connection to my family - and to a place that will always be my home.

The value of antiques is entirely subjective.  In choosing to sell them, you are less a proprietor of goods and more a keeper of memories. My job, as I see it, is to pass the item on, in the hope that it will alight a spark of recognition in someone else; to create in them a connection to another time, place or person.  It is in the success of doing so that the value of the item then becomes priceless.

Antiques have a way of bringing people together.  They tell a story; and people love a good story.  Each piece has a general history, but also has a specific history, a particular meaning, to the owner.  Beyond the who, how, and when it was made; an item will take on the energy of its owner.  Just to hold it can bring back a memory of another time or place.

In search of a missing cup for a set of dishes, my latest excursion found me at a local Goodwill. After finding the cup I needed, I passed by a glass display case and, to my surprise, spotted some carnival glass. On closer inspection, I recognized the somewhat rare peacock pattern.

Just as I was looking at the case, an employee walked over to unlock it to place more items inside; surely a sign.  I asked to see the pieces and the woman gladly obliged.  Together we admired the three bowls I wanted to purchase.  Once I confirmed there was no damage, she took them to the counter for me.

As the cashier scanned my purchases, she also admired the pieces.  We had a lovely conversation about collecting and after a few moments, parted ways, both of us with smiles.  As I walked away, an older gentleman, who had seen me buy them, stopped to ask me about my purchase.  I explained what they were, talked about my collection and how excited I was to find these.

He talked about his years of collecting and the pieces he had.  For a few moments in the sunlit  vestibule of Goodwill we made a connection; two people, generations apart  sharing a common interest.  Though we may never meet again, that one moment made the day a little brighter for the both of us.

These connections are as valuable to me as the antiques themselves.  Countless people have been brought into my life by something as simple as a teacup.  Friendships have been formed and bonds solidified over a shared love of collecting. Memories have been made that can be recalled just by glancing at a treasured collectible.

Some pieces I may keep, and some I may sell, but each one brings the potential, like birds of a feather, of one antique lover connecting with another.

                
     For me, collecting antiques is a form of obsessive compulsive disorder.  This is especially evident when it comes to glassware and china.  Where most people have a set of everyday dishes and, sometimes, a set of "good" dishes, I have seven complete sets of dishes and several more in progress.  I could easily host a meal for a hundred people without having to rent or borrow a single dish.

    Each set has a purpose, of course.  In addition to the basic, everyday set, there are breakfast sets, luncheon sets, snack sets and dinner sets.  Then there are sets for different occasions, seasons and holidays.  After all, it would seem improper to serve a guest their meal on a Spring Violet patterned plate in the middle of winter.

    In addition to the purpose of a set, my version of reality also puts requirements on its appropriate size.  For example, a breakfast set must be, at minimum, a service for four.  Luncheon sets, however, must have at least service for six.  Dinner sets and everyday dishes should have service for no less than eight, though twelve is preferred.  Anything less is considered an incomplete set.

    What really kicks the Antique OCD into overdrive for me are odd numbers.  In my mind, all dishware must have an even number of settings.  Despite having only three people living in my house, there must be at least four settings.  Knowing that there are seven custard cups sitting in the cupboard instead of eight is enough to make me hyperventilate.  Never mind the fact that we never use more than three at a time; seven is an unacceptable number.

    Thankfully, I can channel this level of crazy into something that works for me.  In order to complete a set, I will spend hours, weeks, and sometimes years scouring the internet, auctions, thrift shops and antique malls to find the pieces I need at a price I am willing to pay.  Often, once I have completed a set, I decide to sell it and pass on the bargain to my own customers, along with some of the other interesting items I pick up along the way.

    I can also utilize this skill to find replacement pieces and build specific sets for other people.  Perhaps you want to expand the china set your grandmother passed on to you.  Maybe you broke a bowl to your everyday dinnerware and need a replacement.  You could want to find a replica of the set your parents had when you were growing up.  That's where I come in!  From Corelle, to Fire King, to Homer Laughlin and beyond, let my brand of crazy work for you, too!