Segundo Mano

When I was in high school there was a woman in our town that used to sell vintage clothes out of her basement. Her name was Debbie.

Debbie lived on the west side of town, a few blocks away from the McDonald's. I think I could find her house if I needed to, even though I only went there a handful of times.

Debbie's basement was an 'underground' business selling vintage clothing. If you were so inclined (as I was) to buy vintage this was a true adventure. So a few times me and a friend would drive her red British compact car reeking of cloves to Debbie's and go shop.

 You would go into her house (a duplex), walk past the husband watching TV and inhale the smell of stale cigarette smoke, go through her kitchen and down the steps into the basement. Brightly lit it was a treasure trove of Pendleton jackets, fitted coats, plaids and all things rhinestone, paste and sequin. There were moments of stripping down in the middle of complete strangers to see if the cigarette pants or tulle skirt would fit.

Hey it was the 80's...

Don't lie and say you weren't rocking the taffeta and the rhinestone earrings at your own Homecoming...

All to say that this was where my love affair with all things vintage began. 

Something so mysterious and intriguing about that basement. 

The secrecy of it. The sensation of feeling as if you were really going to find something special.  The sound of Debbie's husky Demi Moore cigarette-stained voice sharing the story behind some of the garments. The charm of wearing something that someone's grandmother or grandfather had worn and the wonder of what they were doing while wearing it. That has never gone away for me.  

It's just that once you go second hand you don't go back. You want the real deal, the stuff that sold, the items that kept their value  not the stuff put up for show. You want the items with history with patina a bit of scuff or a fade. You want to inhabit the character. 

So imagine my joy when upon leaving the modern art museum of the Guggenheim....

Interior shot of the museum

( and feeling a bit cold and dead inside from all of high-gloss painted food items of NYC (a bit moving actually considering their current state--wonder how the art world will remember this time post-hurricane) of Claes Oldenburg

 the upside down Stalins of Georg Baselitz

Or the Richard Serra exhibit 'The Matter of Time'

Serra encourages patrons to go inside his installation. You actually start to feel sort of nauseous from the cant of the structures. 

Interior Bilbao 

 or my husband's personal favorite Inhabited Architecture...basically kitchen cabinets and countertops. "It's like a trip to Home Depot" said my cosmopolitan spouse.

all to say we thought the exterior of the museum was a bit more fun than the interior...)

Bridge over the River Bilbao

Photobombing. Doe shows us how it's done.

...we found this little rhinestone gem of a shop. A friend said "Modern art leaves with a cold feeling sometimes". So it was a nice change of pace to find this on the way back to the car.

"I'll see you guys in a few hours"....

Most shops are closed on Sunday. So no high-end boutiques for us globe-trotters. Nope. Only a fantastic store of second-and Spanish- and Basque items corralled by two women who spoke to each  other and looked like sisters. What a fun memory. 

Thousands of vintage books. These senoras knew their libres though. Most were very expensive. 

My 'finds'...vintage Spain photographs, spice rack, nesting Matrushka dolls and two large  vintage  wooden rosaries. Oh I have remorse though of the 50 year old model sailing boat done to scale...only 5 euros but lacking in size compatibility...

So in the end, we left the city of Bilbao over all happy with our time spent there. It was a nice juxtaposition of old vs new. And if you are like us and love to find those dust or mildew-riddled treasures, try the Mercadillo Antigua across the river from the Guggenheim. It'll leave you feeling warmer on the inside.