Hello, Vintage Snapshots Calling . . . Can You Hear Them?

I've been through a lot of antique stores, flea markets, and auctions in my life. I get it honest--my grandfather was a collector of things, and my mother became one as well. She used to drag me to auctions on Saturday mornings, where I sat bored and disappointed that I had missed cartoons yet again. And every Thursday night, I perched on the salvaged wooden theater chairs of Rowe's (our local auction barn), doing my homework and eating a hot dog for dinner, while my mom bid on depression glass and who knows what else. The items up for bid were interesting but not enough to keep me from yawning and wishing I was home.

But those Saturday mornings and Thursday evenings instilled a love of vintage in me that lay mostly dormant until adulthood. I did have a teen punk phase that led me to the local Goodwill, Salvation Army, and vintage stores to dig up sharkskin trenchcoats and skinny men's ties--much to my mother's dismay, but the rest of it didn't appeal to me. My passion for vintage began to creep out when I realized I was still watching Hepburn and Tracy after I left home. Then, antique stores and auctions were places I sought out myself. As I perused the merchandise, I began noticing vintage snapshots--not cabinet cards or posed portraits, but candid amateur photos of beach vacations, birthday parties, and backyard playmates.

It was disheartening that such happy moments had become anonymous, been discarded, and found their way into a dealer's booth or onto an auctioneer's block. I began collecting such snapshots about three years ago because this bothered me so much. My collection is not large, as I find the photos must speak to me in some way for me to take them home. Sometimes, it's the fashion--I adore vintage beach photos of woolen bathing suits and parasols and 1940s swing hairstyles and dresses. Other times, it's silliness--tongues sticking out or acrobatic poses. Or sometimes, it's just something about the subject's face--a look in the eyes that makes me want to not leave them behind. I mostly like photos of the 1930s and 1940s but seem to be extending the time span. And I try not to spend more than $2-3 for any one photo unless it's absolutely exceptional.

I'm fairly picky and can sort through hundreds of photos and only buy a handful.  I'm starting to amass quite a collection that needs to be shared.  I'm thinking about starting my own Georgie Lou's greeting card line, a la Anne Taintor or (Im)Proper Greetings, both of which we sell in the store.  Someday soon, you may have to listen carefully while you're in the store--one of these photos just might speak to you, too.