Dealer’s Choice
By Stephen Siwinski
“Good deal.”
That was Dad’s way of saying something was satisfactory, his highest form of praise or a way to wrap up a conversation that had gone on a little too long. It was a utilitarian phrase that could be unfolded and used in any situation like a trusty pocket knife. Dad loved deals.
I am the byproduct of a flea market flipping father and a mend it up, make it better mother. It’s no wonder I find comfort in returning relics to their rightful purpose. Painting, sanding, gluing, refinishing, reselling and returning them into the wild. Like a catch and release program for vintage furniture.
Scouring thrift shops, breathing in the moth ball-heavy air of estate sales, driving slow down a rural road tying to peek into the contents of an open barn door. These are all tricks of the trade passed on to me by my folks in the way that other families pass on religious customs or favorite recipes.
There is a certain thrill that comes in finding a treasure, but after a while it became more rewarding to pass these finds on to other people. Much in the same way that my Dad would truck his collection of wares to peddle them in a flea market booth. My booth just happens to be an Instagram account, @wheeleranddealer.
Even before self-quarantine turned our world upside down not many folks had the spare time to hunt for treasure. Connecting people with pieces that have the power to make a positive impact on their comfort feels like the right thing to do. Like heeding some kind of inner calling.
A warm, walnut-toned dresser that fits juuuuuuust right along the wall. A mid-century fireplace that warms up the hearts of the people gathered around it. A quality piece of vintage furniture can be life changing. It can be a daily reminder of the sharpening of your taste or a touchstone for mustering personal wherewithal. It can also just look really cool, too.
Meditating on the history of the piece can be a trip too. Who held these drawer handles before me? What moments of joy, laughter, sorrow, and love were felt in the seat cushion of this chair, in which I am now so comfortably lounging?
When is the last time you bartered for something? Chances are pretty good that when you visit Target or Bed Bath and Beyond that you don’t make the cashier an offer for the contents of your shopping cart. Haggling is a lost art killed by the barcode and the big box store. It is a dance whose steps are as ancient as the spice-scented, color-drenched marketplaces of old. Really working to make a deal with another person for something your heart desires is a thrill that you owe yourself.
Start low, dance the dance, don’t be afraid to walk away, and always show up with cash. Good advice for haggling or just about any other situation in life.
Get yourself a good deal.
Stephen Siwinski enjoys scavenging the southwest in search of vintage treasures. When he’s not on the hunt for junk, he works as Project Manager at the Neon Museum, where he brings forward-facing programs, installations, and events together to celebrate Las Vegas’ glowing history.
Images/Stephen Siwinski
Morris of California Credenza. The previous owner told me he bought it at an auction from a storage building behind the Riviera after the famed hotel closed down in 2014. The Riviera opened in 1955 and played host to the likes of Liberace, Frank Sinatra and many other greats throughout the years. Who knows, old blue eyes himself may have crooned a tune or two within earshot of this piece of Las Vegas history.
Orange Herman Miller Shell Chair picked from a roadside motel in Lodi, CA. Found buried in the back of a maintenance shed with a cat curled up comfortably in the seat.