What to expect when you're vending

If I had to sum up my latest craft show on the campus of Plattsburgh State in northeastern New York in just one Twitter post it would read:

Great time with the most creative and positive vendors; a variety of shoppers and so many of them; met many wonderful inspiring people that I can't wait to keep in contact with; and just the right mix of DMB and Alvin and the Chipmunks over the loudspeakers.

But then I would be 128 characters over the limit, and you know what they say....

...well, they say you can only use 140 characters, so to sum up the summary:

Plattsburgh....yay!

I don't tweet much.  It's probably better that way.

But I digress.

.....

Hello!

See my face here?  This is what we all look like after a full day of smiling.  All day, smiling.

"Hello!  How are YOU!?"

"HI! Good to SEE you!"

"Love that jacket, I just LOVE that jacket!!"

This is the world of vending.

It's easy to picture the excitement of it: a crowd of people swarming and openly admiring your work, the exhilaration of making a sale.  This is the feeling that keeps us all coming back for more; I mean, besides the actual income generated.  But what's money spent on a Chipotle rice bowl compared to the thrill of verbal affirmation....right?

Am I right??

But what about those times when the crowd is reduced to a slow trickle of shoppers?  When the thrill is gone and the unavoidable lull sets in?

The following is like those stories from moms to soon-to-be-moms about how much your feet are going to swell or where you might find bulging purple veins.  You know, the unpleasantries no one tells you before you get involved but forget after it's all over because "it's just so beautiful!"

This is what happens in....The Down Time:

You think about snacks.

It's overwhelming.  When is it ok to get your next helping of sausage and peppers and where is it going to come from.  Also, which kind of pie will it be followed by.

You realize your feet hurt.

Standing all day does a number on the tootsies.  You don't notice it when you're laughing and chatting with customers, but when you have a chance to think, you think about foot massages.

You try to talk yourself out of buying that.

That shirt you'll never wear at this booth, that glass bowl you'll never use at that booth, that sock bunny the dog will end up destroying at the booth over there.  You will not be successful.  But you will leave with most of your Christmas shopping for yourself done.

You mentally calculate your sales.

After every other sale.  Why not?  Was this show worth it? you'll ask yourself.  Or more importantly, have I made enough profit to get that glass bowl??

You sit down.

This feels so good toward the end of the day you start to wonder if you really need to stand up and greet your customers or if everyone is better off if you hide behind your displays and leave them to browse in peace.

You rearrange your display.

Several times.  What is working?  What isn't working?  What can I do so I have something to do?

You plan your tear down strategy.

"How do I get out of here and into pjs as quickly as possible?"  No matter what kind of day/weekend you had, toward the end you will not be able to stop thinking about how great that flannel pajama set will feel in a nap, and you will do as much tear-down prep as you can three hours before the end of the show.

...

But at the end of it all, when you're laying under the covers wrapped in flannel you smile to yourself as you try to remember when the deadline is for the next show and why in the world are you taking a nap when there's so much work to be done for it.

It's a beautiful thing.

The business of being scared

If you live out west, my apologies.

Over here in the Northeast we kinda hijacked all of your national news programs.

You know, with this little Hurricane Sandy business.

Trust me, we wish it didn't have to happen either.  But you know how much say we have in weather patterns....

A lot, if you believe the government is using jet trails to affect climate.

Let's pretend I didn't go there.

Luckily, where Corey and I live we didn't see much more than a little rain and at times some heavy wind.  So no limbs sticking out of car windows, flooded basements, or overturned grills.  Phew!

But our power did go out for five hours.  At night.

This was a major problem.

I'm afraid of the dark.

As in, if I have to potty in the middle of the night I run from the bathroom to the bedroom afterward.

The bathroom is five feet from my bedroom.  Sad.

On top of that, I am married to someone who is not able to sit still.

As in, when the power goes out he has to get in his car and drive around to see who else doesn't have power.

I don't mind so much when it's 5:30pm and I can still see my hand in front of my face.

At 7:30pm I mind.

It's dark at 7:30pm.  And there are just some areas a candle flame does not touch.  Like corners.  And closets.  And under tables.  So there I sat. In the apartment, by myself.  Paralyzed with fear at every creak, because our apartment creaks.  Paralyzed even further, if that's possible, when the dog started barking at the creaks. 

In the light, creaking is just creaking.  Old buildings settle, I get it.  But in the dark creaking is....

...something coming to get me!?  Something ghoulish and gross that has one desire in this world and that is to claw my eyeballs out and feed them to my dogyesIreallydobelievethisjunk.

On Corey's last trip out of the apartment to pick up our dinner I went with him.  It was safer to be in a car driving under and around large trees in heavy winds.  Definitely.

The rest of the story is uneventful.  Not like the beginning was a real page turner either.  Went to bed, woke up when the power came back on, cursed out loud that I lost an entire evening of work with the craft show just four days away.

Then I saw all the damage in NYC and New Jersey.  Yikes.

I'm sure some people there are afraid of the dark.

And raw sewage.

And cars floating into their living rooms.

Guess I had it easy.

.....

Send prayers to those who were really hit hard.  People have died fighting Sandy and that's much scarier than the dark!

I work hard for the money

Hey-o!

Here I am.

Alive.  And well.

And not in an abandoned pit somewhere, thrown there by my crazy sister.

Because that's not real life.  It's All My Children, 1991.

Truth is, I've been pret-ty busy.

Time flies when you're felting your fingers to the bone for a two-day craft show in just two weeks.

Two weeks.  TWO.

Can you feel the urgency?  In just two weeks I have to make all the jewelry. 

Nope.  No.  I don't want to talk about it.

But I will show you my studio.  Because I think you're gonna like it.

I love it here.

I love it so much I've begun to fill it up so that it doesn't look like this anymore.



This is the clock I hit my head on every. single. time. I come up here.  Half the year it's set to the wrong time, the other half the year it's not working at all because the batteries died. 



I stole borrowed this lamp from my sister, Katie.  And then it broke.  Now I'm hoping she doesn't read this and remember that she wanted it back when she moved into her own house.

This is the little nook where I read every morning.  My favorite spot in the entire apartment.  It's also where I store my library book sale finds.  Also known as the books I will probably never read but will keep anyway because I only paid 50 cents for crying out loud.

I had high hopes of getting a nice futon for the occasional guest to sleep on, but now those hopes have turned to bigger purchases.

Like a house.



One of two easels.  You would think I was a painter, but you'd be wrong.  I just dabble.

Badly.



And then there's some junk.  Random things that just can't seem to find a home.

Whaddya know, more things without a home.

Months after I took these pictures I found a shelving unit by the side of the road.  Knowing how Corey feels about me picking up strange pieces of furniture I made sure to swipe it while he was gone.  Getting it up two flights of stairs by myself was a challenge and I do still strategically hide the candle wax damage but problem almost solved in the junk department!

Did you notice the humongous skylight?  This is pretty much the best room in the entire building.

My favorite.

But right now it's reminding me of all the work I have to do so this is where I call it quits to go browse pictures of celebrity pets.

:)

"...and so I just got him new underwear."

Yeah.

I'd like to know what that means too.

It's what I overheard from a coupla gals walking into my booth Saturday at the Round Lake Arts and Crafts Fair; a little festival in the middle of a teensy tiny town where people grow dahlias as big as your face and read books in hammocks on their porches.

So lovely.

But back to the business of the underpants: was there an accident?  What could possibly have happened to not only give this guy a reason to need new shorts but warranted spreading the news to others?

Intriguing.

But I digress.  There was other business in Round Lake.  Craft business.  I say every craft show I've been a part of is my favorite, and this one is no different.

The Round Lake Arts and Crafts Fair is my fave.

I do realize eventually I will have to pick a real favorite.  But for now my all-time, hands-down, no-buts-about-it favorites are in Glens Falls, Schroon Lake, and Round Lake.

They make me happy.

I brought some stuff to sell.

My usual stuff.  Felted wool jewelry to complement every single thing you own.

It all fits in a small Rubbermaid tub and a shoe box the size of 4" t-strap Mary Janes in a size 8.

That's the beauty of accessories.  They're meant to be accents.  Anything more than an accent and you've got yourself a sweater.

Or a neck brace.  I guess.

Hello Fair-goers!  Do you want to stop at my booth?....No?  Well then I'm going to put an unflattering picture of you on the Internets for all the world to see.

Just kidding.  But seriously, I don't think they stopped by.

Christian Karma, as my sister would say.

Tasty treats for all.  The Ices were tempting, but peach pie is kinda my thing, and down the road I found me a slice.

I shared it with my mom.

Did I mention my mom was with me?  She comes to these things and helps me manage the booth so I can go potty and buy pie.  I pay her in jewelry and she just keeps coming back.  By now she has the whole spiel down: merino wool, needle felted, so lightweight you're gonna wanna pinch yourself.

Have I mentioned I love this town?  Home of a former Methodist church camp, Round Lake is an old community with narrow streets and 150-year-old houses.

And then there's the auditorium.

I may be redundant by saying the auditorium is, well, an auditorium.  Built in the late 1880s and restored in the 1950s, it's home to one of the biggest darned organs I have ever seen.

Oh.  Em.  Gosh.

It is the oldest and largest of its kind and still in use today.

I'm a sucker for historical history.  There was a book sale going on but I just wanted to look at the organ.

No, I wanted to play the organ.

...

Moms and I had a good weekend.  As usual the company was excellent.  The weather was perfect.  And I made enough money to keep on keeping' on.

A job well done, Round Lake.

Have I told you lately you're my fave?!

Schroon Lake, you won me over

The following is how I mentally crafted this post mid-morning Saturday:

Oh Em Gosh, people.  Rudeness.  Nothing but rudeness.  I'm here in beautiful Schroon Lake, practically On The Lake and all I can see are these rude knuckleheads who are rudely rude right to my rude. 

Thank my stars my day eventually got better.

Saturday was the Schroon Lake Arts & Crafts Fair, at which I was a vendor.

*picture lifted from the Schroon Lake Association, a certain someone forgot her camera....me, it was me.

The Schwhat Lake wha-wha??

SLA&CF: a little fair on the shore of little lake in the gigantic Adirondack Park where you could just quit your job/life and live forever and ever.

Sure it takes an hour to get there.  And, yeah, you will most likely find yourself rolling through several "exploded" raccoon carcasses on the highway.

Nice mental picture, Stace.

But boy is it worth it.

I can say that now because my day later redeemed itself.  After staring up nostrils for most of the morning I finally found real, genuinely interested folks wander through my booth. 

(whose nostrils I did still see because there are some people who are taller than me and I sat down occasionally....)

Not all of them made purchases, and I could not have cared less.

"This is so cool!!" some of them would say.

Or "I love this ______!"

I was in heaven.

Wrap me up and call it a day.

Say goodnight Gracie.

Stick a fork in me....and so on.

Yes, of course I like the stuff that I make, but to hear you say you like the stuff I make is that little bit of confirmation I need to feel like I'm on the right track/not totally out of my craftin' mind.

So thank you! to my SLA&CF friends...you made my day!

....

(and of course thanks to my mom who I dragged out of the house at 6am to help me All Day Long, and to my dad who we forced to make us egg burritos before we left....love you!)

Friends and jewelry and ample amounts of cheese

Hello working world.

All of you nine-to-fivers sitting in your offices, wondering why you packed a baloney sandwich when you were obviously thinking turkey.

I won't rub in that I'm looking out at the ocean on Cape Cod right now, or that the sound of the waves consistently drowns out Law and Order reruns at night.

But that's beside the point.

Corey and I have been in North Truro since Saturday and are packing up to leave early tomorrow.  We're this close to Provincetown, which is where we've spent a lot of our time, walking up and down commercial street; shopping, window shopping, filling up on Portuguese baked goods, and thinking aloud "are those storm clouds coming our way??"

Every Thursday you can find an arts and antique fair downtown.  I found it.

Which reminds me that I forgot to go back for the old sink stand I wanted.  Dangit.

I met a very nice girl there.  She was selling some old goodies that included a few scarves I would have loved to cut up.  For what purpose, I'm not quite sure, but I don't always have a plan when I make purchases.  Corey doesn't understand it.

The girl uses turquoise in the jewelry she makes and she had a display of earrings in her booth.  Not an entire representation of her work, but enough to make out what exactly she's about.


It was very pretty; intricate with bold colored beading.  I'm more of a simple gal myself but I can appreciate details in others' work.  I can pick out good composition when I see it.

Hello?  I did spend one whole year as an art major in college.

I'm kicking myself a little for not catching her name for the purpose of, at the very least, not having to call her "the girl" in this post!

What I loved most about our brief interaction was that as a slightly more seasoned, semi-professional crafter I was able to share some of my experiences with her (solicited, of course, i'm not that kind of girl) (wait, what does that even mean?  what i was trying to say is i don't go all yammering on about myself to people who don't need yammering to),  we talked about what works for me, what doesn't.  At the end of it all she can do what she wants with it, but she'll be able to make a decision with an iddy bit more information than she had before.

Helpful?  Maybe.  Hopefully.  But at the very least I wanted to impart that as a fellow crafter who would also like to make a little dough at this gig, I'm here; for support, and advice and criticism.  The good kind.

Ohmigosh.

That was cheesy.  So cheesy.  I'm sorry you had to read that...unless you're like me, trying to make your way in this crazy world.

Again.  Please excuse.

Time to pack anyway.  Adios Cape Cod!

A study in booth design

Lower Adirondack Regional Arts Council.

LARAC for short.

For 40 years they've run a spring craft show that is now nearly busting at the seams with vendors, attendees, and lemonade stands.

And yet, still only one crab cake sandwich truck.  Why?

Why??

This year was my second as a vendor.  You can read about my horribly wet first attempt here.  It was a live and learn experience.  I lived.  And learned.

What did I learn, you ask?

Enough to draw people in to make purchases, which aside from the enjoyment of making the goods, is pretty darn important.

I wanted, no I needed, a booth design that was more inviting.

...so I went with more layers.

Height.

And if girlfriend is going to claim she possesses whimsy there'd better be some element of fanciful.

If milk glass, driftwood stolen from the shores of the Pacific Northwest, and antique silver trays turned chalkboard surfaces does not scream fancy I don't know what does.

Ok.  Maybe lace does.

A lot of my favorite display items are garage sale finds, things families have no use for, like this old wooden tray (and the picture frame from the first picture) I walked away with for $3.  It's former owner, an old man that lives down the street from me said, "Sure, I'll give it to you for three.  I can tell it's going to a good home."

Little known fact: I have this thing for collecting picture frames.

And milk glass.

And cow creamers.

Among many other items.

But I put the frames to work here with a little help from a Staples pack of cork board and sewing pins.  Easy, easy, easy.

(white wire frame is another garage sale fine.  i love it more than life itself.)

The colorful table runner is courtesy of Joann's Fabric (and my mom's handiwork on the Bernina), but I don't think you'll find any of it for yourself.  I've cleared every bolt from every shelf from Queensbury, New York to Yorba Linda.

But I exaggerate.

......

More to come on this great festival and some deets on my displays.  It was a two day affair, after all, and just one post doesn't nearly do it justice.

Plus I'm hoping to make one more appeal to the Internets for another crab cake sandwich vendor.  The world is ready, LARAC festival organizers, for more crab cakes.