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.

My 70-year plan

I would call myself a grown up.

At least at 30 years of age I should possess some level of maturity in, well, all areas of life.

Like knowing I need a well balanced meal of meat, veggies, and milk shakes.

And watching scary movies at night is going to jack up my electric bill.

I keep the lights on to ward off serial killers and zombies, if you didn't follow.

And in the arena of what-do-I-want-to-be-when-I-grow-up I think I have finally narrowed down my selection.

Finally.

People, I would be very, very, very happy to make felted wool beads for the rest of my life.

I can't say that about too many things.  My attention span is the size of why does my office smells like cereal?

....

........

Where was I?

Yes, wool, my forever career.

But if felted wool beads were to become the most hated product on the planet I feel confident now that I don't need to be in some 9-5 desk job where I am connected to a phone and some cranky crankpot on the other end and that I can find some other way to create and make enough money to support my slight addiction to Essie nail polish.

And maybe help with our electric bills.

However, should I run dry on the creativity I always have my other career choice finalists to fall back on:

1.  Junior High art teacher

I actually went to college for this purpose.  Mouthy pre-teens are my forte, I find them hilarious.  However, after one semester with a very angry, small manly woman and another semester drawing an eyelash curler three hours each class for eight weeks I became a tad disenchanted.  I regret this decision often.

2.  Tour guide in Italy

While studying in Florence I found out one of our school's coordinators just picked up and left her home in SanFran to do her thang in Italy for an undetermined amount of time.  This greatly appeals to the hopeless romantic in me and I was actually trying to learn Italian when I met Corey just in case I worked up enough nerve.

3.  YMCA front desk worker

This is for a free membership.  Don't judge.

4.  Graphic designer

I would do this now if I knew how these blasted computers work.  But if I ever find the time to learn and a 12 year old to teach me, I would do freelance work for churches and non-profits.

5.  Food truck owner and operator

Specifically a breakfast food truck that serves cupcakes.  Breakfast cupcakes.  This whole food truck fad was made for people like me who can't be tied to one place for-ev-er.

...

See?  Grown ups also have Plan Bs.

But for the sake of 12 year olds, travelers, weight lifters, 12 year olds and people who like pancakes let's just cross our fingers that this wool thing is gonna stick.

Otherwise I'll never get this cereal smell to go away.

"...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?!

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.