I went to an antique store and saw this and thought, no way is that an antique. My little sister had one of these and my oldest daughter played with one as well. Maybe even the same one. Then I looked around and saw the doll house my older sister and I had and a bit later, the doll house my younger sister and I played with. Then the skeleton Halloween mask and costume, with the jointed jaw of course, my brother had. Alongside that was the Cleopatra mask and costume that I’d worn. Both were still folded and in their cardboard shirt-box packaging with the little plastic window so you could see the contents.
Then I found the Santa face that used to reside on my Mom’s side door and would always try to blow away, his pitted styrofoam face still smiling merrily at me. In the same booth were a set of colorful Pyrex bowls that were always holding something for dinner during my childhood. (mom’s yellow bowls are in my kitchen right now) Basically, everywhere I looked I saw vestiges of my childhood and I wondered if perhaps someone had picked through the things I’d donated or thrown away after I cleaned my parents house, because it sure looked like most of my life was scattered among antique booths.
But I’m not an antique. I’m not even considered classic yet. How did all my “stuff” become antiques… maybe they are just collectibles now? I think I prefer to think of it that way.
Speaking of collectible, I’m sure everyone loves to collect doll heads, right? In fact, I think the one on the left had a potential buyer checking her out!
And if that wasn’t creepy enough for you…
You’d better prepare for the invasion, because I’m pretty sure these are really aliens and the Aunt Jemima Army is assembling for an attack.
Can someone please pass the butter and the syrup?