Everyone who loves estate sales has the same dream tucked inside them somewhere.  Photograph by Norm Diamond The estate-sale industry is one of those parts of capitalism that you don’t think about much until you have to. It’s an answer to the question: What happens to people’s stuff after they die? In a funny and deeply moving new piece, Lizzie Feidelson scours the sales on Long Island (and, during the pandemic, online) to reveal the inner workings of this corner of American commerce, with its unique social mores and cast of regular customers—with nicknames like Radio Rob, Tom Chicken Broccoli, and Victor No Shoes. “I started going to estate sales for the deals, but I rarely bought anything,” she writes. “Usually, I just watched—the people, but also the homes. It was like trick-or-treating or spying, but with the rubbernecking undisguised.” Feidelson wasn’t always just an observer, though—and she told me about a few of her choicest finds. “I got this purple leather single-bottle wine carrier with a matching set of wine charms and opener that have ended up becoming among my most prized possessions,” she said. “I also recently overpaid for a sewing machine that came with a collection of the owner’s fabric and ribbon remnants. She was a recently deceased photographer for Life magazine who had collected beautiful fabrics from around the world.” Read the story here. —Ian Crouch, newsletter editor | 
No comments:
Post a Comment