I'm selling stuff at tomorrow's Hamilton Park Festival flea market. Primarily trade paperbacks and graphic novels, which seem to have taken over my garage. I want them gone and out of my life, so Michael Kraiger and I are going to sell them at bargain-basement rates just to get rid of them (we hope).
But I'm also putting some gorgeous, perfect old "Whitegirl" label party dresses on the auction block, handmade by the finest designer in Jersey City in the early nineties, a woman named Cheryl.
Denise and maybe Carmen are going to be at the next table, selling silkscreened scarves and leather bags, respectively.
And I'm testing the market for these. I've sewn some little tiny handbags, just big enough for a phone, keys, and a wallet. They sling over your shoulder. And I've gotten the Square thing that plugs into your phone, so I can take credit cards if someone wants a LOT of graphic novels and handbags.
I don't now how I own so much stuff. But I need it to stop.
|The one on the far right is the sample I was emulating.|