Collecting Vintage - My Thoughts on Why We Do It

Lots of people collect vintage pottery and glassware, and for more reasons than I can count.  I am drawn to it primarily for two reasons, and I think they are fairly common with most collectors:  first, it reminds me of my childhood (sort of), and second, it takes me to a "better" time in our national history.  Both feel legit at first blush, but when I consider each, I have to ask, how true are either of these?  Probably not very, but in the end, it really doesn't matter.  Maybe you have something to say about it as well - if so, I invite your comments.  Who knows?  You may have a different reason that  I haven't yet recognize within myself!

Now, about that memory of childhood thing.  I should probably mention that I grew up in the 70s and 80s, so Elvis ruled as The King of Rock and Roll during my early years, and Madonna rose to Queen of Pop as I traveled through middle and high school.  Quite a gap between the two in some ways, but maybe they're more alike than we really give them credit for.  That's a blog topic all on its own, and maybe I can come back and revisit the subject again in future.  But for now, back to my original topic of how vintage pottery, our perceptions of childhood, and the past all intersect.

Cobalt Vases.

Maybe you didn't grow up in the same era as I did - that's okay.  Just take a little trip down your own constructed or reconstructed memory lane of the 1970s.  Do you remember lots of cool aquas and pinks in bird or fish-shaped pottery, with a hint of cobalt, evergreen and ruby red glass thrown in?  If I actually think about the items in our house - or in the houses of friends' parents or my own grandparents - I have to say no in almost every case.

Aqua or Turquoise Grouping of Vintage Pottery.

We bought a new (to us) house in 1978 or so, and it had an avocado bathtub, sink and toilet in the bathroom.  Ugly, flat gold carpet covered the floor throughout, with the exception of the kitchen and bathroom, where - you guessed it - there was avocado-patterned linoleum.  To make our house oh-so-elegant while matching the ubiquitous cheap brown paneling, my mother added darker tones to all of the public rooms and an avocado dishwasher and double oven in the kitchen.  Hideous, chocolate-colored drapes of a fabric akin to lined burlap graced the windows in both the dining and living rooms.  And to top it all off, my parents went and bought new furniture right before we moved, and it was of a heavy, brown wood and vinyl, accentuating all the rest of the ugliness that we called home.  I would be ashamed to admit to such utter atrocities, except they really weren't uncommon.  And there were worse decorating schemes left over from the 1960s, but I won't get into that.  I think I've made my point:  my childhood was a drab world of dark, ugly, heavy spaces.  So this pottery doesn't really remind me of those "good old days," as much as I would like to lie and say that it does.  Maybe, just maybe, the cool pieces that I find allow me the pretense of a lighter, prettier space for my childhood than the one I experienced.

But perhaps that second reason holds more validity:  vintage pottery, in all its wonderful "Americana" shapes and styles may bring to mind the thought of happier times for the good, old U.S. of A.  Lots of the pottery pieces that I come across and bring to my etsy shop for sale were manufactured in the 1930s and 1940s, so it's hard to say.  In the early 1930s, half the population still suffered from the sluggish economy and by the end of the decade, wartime tensions led to "Buy American" campaigns which continued throughout the first half of the 1940s.  Do poverty and wartime really equal a better place for us in our collective memory?

Bird and Birdbath Planter.

I think it definitely relates to the "rose-colored glasses" view of the past, which may be good for us.  As a group, we need a positive narrative to act as a framework in which to place our grandparents and great grandparents - even our moms and dads.  All in all, prohibition had ended so people didn't have to break the law when they were "thirsty," train and automobile travel were coming into their own, and even though many still suffered from the poverty brought on by the stock market crash of 1929, the price of many pottery pieces at Woolworth, Kresge and Co., and other five-and-dimes generally ranged between ten and thirty cents.  In some cases, pottery and glassware didn't even have to be bought - it was given to patrons as a promotion, for going to the movies, or for buying their favorite brand of oats.  So maybe when collectors pick up a cute little kitten planter or a piggy-shaped set of salt and pepper shakers, they see a time when patriotism was expected and buying something at the five-and-dime meant supporting the U.S. economy instead of the dreaded enemy.

Ruby Red Rose Dresser Box.

For me, it's nothing so concrete.  I am an educator and historian by training, and I have a strong love for the past.  Even though we never had any McCoy or Shawnee Pottery filling a bookcase or display shelf when I was growing up, I know those pieces were there to witness other people's childhoods, as silly as that may seem.  To pick up a piece of pottery and imagine its creator at work, painting and glazing, getting the details just so, is no hardship for me.  Nor is it difficult for me to picture a piece, wrapped in special paper and a big fat bow, passing from one friend to another, signaling the significance of a special day.  Just thinking about all the personal triumphs and failures - the individual narratives that sometimes don't seem to make up the "real" history of our shared past - witnessed by vintage pottery and glass reinforces my belief that their collection is a worthwhile endeavor.

Pair of Kitten Planters.

To think, I didn't even mention "going green" as a reason for collectors to amass large quantities of vintage pottery or glassware.  Maybe because deep down, I know that greening up is something we do with our heads and not with our hearts.  And collecting is all about how something makes us feel good, excited, enthralled - but not necessarily smart.