The other day, I walked into Vogue Vintage, a newish vintage store near my house. It was probably the best example of this kind of merchandise that I've seen so far, and I told the owner so. This pleased him, and he confessed that he had some level of attachment to everything he had acquired to sell. This I could actually feel as I looked around - so many things you'd love to just keep. The furniture was in mint condition, as well as every knick knack that was tastefully displayed. Everything just had something to say, something nice and agreeable and fun.
I then came upon a parrot comb, which was on consignment for $150. It was stunning, but it didn't appear to be made of alabaster or rare wood of any kind. It was red and black, a stenciled sort of design parrot silhouettes. I asked him why it was $150, and he said that's what the woman wanted for it. A plastic comb was all it was, with quite a price.
Perhaps she didn't really want to sell it, I thought. But she's going through hard times and she has to sell some things, but in the back of her mind she wants this parrot comb to come back to her because it is special in some way. And so I thought of how people put value on things, on personal items, and eventually wondered how we put a value on ourselves. Like the parrot comb, we can be as valuable as we want to make ourselves - priceless, even. People can be like a vintage chartreuse coffee table with built in coasters. Made only once, and never again. IKEA might be able to make a copy but it would never be like the original.
We are all the original thing, so price yourself accordingly. You're worth every penny.
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