Crocodile tears
I have just had the most FANTASTIC vintage find. Like, unbelievable once-in-a-lifetime find. I think. Maybe. I need to do a bit more research before I can say that. I had to go out for work today and popped into a hospice shop (as I do) on the way back to the car. My op-shopping always works the same way. I scan the china shelves, looking for Crown Lynn (unlikely), Poole (slightly more likely) and pewter (not quite as interested, but worth a look). Then I go to the video section (where today I picked up West Wing Season 3 for $4!) and then I cast an eye over the dresses and walk out. So today I went through the routine, paid for the West Wing and was just leaving when I saw something behind the counter that made my heart literally skip a beat.
But not just any handbag. It was a rich brown crocodile hard-shell handbag. And when I say crocodile, I mean real crocodile. I asked to see it, expecting at any minute that they’d say “No, it’s on hold” or “It’s only for display”.
The reason I was so excited is that I’ve read quite a bit about vintage clothing, and handbags in particular. A vintage crocodile bag in good condition is worth very serious money. The problem is that they’re so incredibly rare that prices are simply ridiculous. The moment I got it in my hands I got even more excited, because it was very nearly perfect. Not a scratch on the body, no wearing on the clasp, no scuffing on the base, not even any cracking where the skin bends to allow you to open the bag. There’s wearing on the corners and one tiny split. The real suede interior is smooth and perfect, as if it’s never been used. The handle was cracked, which happens with all crocodile bags of a certain age, so I wasn’t too worried about that. It felt smooth and dense and real, a texture I can’t explain because you have to feel it to know it.
It was $75. That’s completely insane. I saw a small crocodile purse last weekend that was dyed, cracked all over, in dreadful condition, for $70! Even conservatively this bag is probably worth a good $400. I bought it, waving goodbye to new jeans, feeling almost dizzy. There are two women at work who collect vintage bags, and they were dumbfounded. One said she’d never seen anything like it, not even in decades of op-shopping in London. I still can’t quite believe my luck. (And now I’m truly broke, so will be having porridge for lunch for a month. A small price to pay.)
Now all that remains is to take it home and for Steve to say it's the ugliest thing he's ever seen - the day he likes something I buy second-hand is the day I'll know I've lost my vintage mojo!
But not just any handbag. It was a rich brown crocodile hard-shell handbag. And when I say crocodile, I mean real crocodile. I asked to see it, expecting at any minute that they’d say “No, it’s on hold” or “It’s only for display”.
The reason I was so excited is that I’ve read quite a bit about vintage clothing, and handbags in particular. A vintage crocodile bag in good condition is worth very serious money. The problem is that they’re so incredibly rare that prices are simply ridiculous. The moment I got it in my hands I got even more excited, because it was very nearly perfect. Not a scratch on the body, no wearing on the clasp, no scuffing on the base, not even any cracking where the skin bends to allow you to open the bag. There’s wearing on the corners and one tiny split. The real suede interior is smooth and perfect, as if it’s never been used. The handle was cracked, which happens with all crocodile bags of a certain age, so I wasn’t too worried about that. It felt smooth and dense and real, a texture I can’t explain because you have to feel it to know it.
It was $75. That’s completely insane. I saw a small crocodile purse last weekend that was dyed, cracked all over, in dreadful condition, for $70! Even conservatively this bag is probably worth a good $400. I bought it, waving goodbye to new jeans, feeling almost dizzy. There are two women at work who collect vintage bags, and they were dumbfounded. One said she’d never seen anything like it, not even in decades of op-shopping in London. I still can’t quite believe my luck. (And now I’m truly broke, so will be having porridge for lunch for a month. A small price to pay.)
Now all that remains is to take it home and for Steve to say it's the ugliest thing he's ever seen - the day he likes something I buy second-hand is the day I'll know I've lost my vintage mojo!