It Ain’t About the Money, It’s About the Fun!

I call it a business. And to be fair, it does have things for sale. All sorts of goodies.

Bright, shiny things. Colourful things. Things that make your heart soar. Toys even. Not big toys. And certainly not plastic. But, you know. Nice things…goodies.

I’ve been expanding "the business". Not so much physically. But the stock’s certainly improving. Yes, those two cabinets at the local antiques centre are filled to bursting with the sort of things that’ll bring joy to many a soul. And what with Christmas coming up…

Just like football, the vintage and antiques business is a funny old game. You scour the local car boots and charity shops to find what you can. Give it a wash (amazing what a bowl of warm soapy water can do) and pop it in the cabinet – ready to work its charms on the next lucky devil through the door.

There’s no money in it, mind. Time you’ve paid the month’s – fair but not inconsequential – rent, you’re doing all right if you break even. Oh, but the fun you’ll have along the way!

Once you’ve been out on the mooch a couple of times, you’ll be clocked as a dealer the moment you turn up. That’s nothing to be ashamed of: You’re just like any other punter, except you actually buy stuff. And often in quantity. So, never try to hide it. You’ll be surprised how readily stallholders will adjust their prices, knowing that you are buying on a commercial basis. And they really don’t mind. A sale’s a sale. Business is business. Oh, yes…business: the dark art of selling something for more than you paid for it. That’s all it is really. Regardless of your particular brand of widget: you buy something in, do something with it and sell it on. Easy peasy(ish).

“The money’s made in the buying, lad,” a far wiser – and in spite of his insistence on calling me lad – not that much older colleague once told me. But he was so right. Pay too much for it and you’re lost before you’ve begun. Then there’s your costs. And remember: the longer it takes to sell, the more it costs to sell. So, once you think it through, it’s not surprising there’s no money in it. Not at my level anyway.

I say my level without doing myself the slightest injustice. I’m a part-timer. A hobbyist if you will. No, on second thoughts, not a hobbyist. That would suggest that I’d be happy to pay for the privilege of running my own business. I am a part-time business owner. That is to say: I’ll try and make a little money from it, as and when the opportunities present themselves. But I’m not so committed, as to be overly concerned if I find myself merely treading water for a while – during the late winter for example.

Oh, but the things are pretty. So, so pretty. (And very reasonably priced, too.) That’s the joy of running your own business. You think it through; you make a decision; and then you stand or fall by it. No one else.

No one else to stick their half-baked pennyworth in, just because they think they should. If you want to buy X for Y, clean it up and sell it for Z – good luck to you. Of course, if no one wants to pay Z for it, then you may well be stuck with it. Or, sell it for Y. Or, less than Y. Or…just take the blinking thing out of the display and shove it in the loft – until you’ve got the time to do a car boot. And some other chancer spots it...setting the whole rigmarole off again. All good fun.

But that’s the whole point of it. Fun. You’ve got to do something with your time off and, well, we all like shopping. So why not sell the things you buy? After all, they are pretty.

Glass especially. Of all the things I’ve tried in the cabinets, glass has been the most successful. And when I say successful, what I mean is: that it has given me the most joy. Art glass, to be specific. The sort of thing that nobody actually needs, but no matter…it’s pretty. Ceramics as well.

I’ve even sold a few statues…okay, ornaments. You know, anything plated or that looks like bronze. Oh, by the way: the term cold-cast merely means that it is resin, with a little metal powder mixed in. Not that that matters. There are some lovely things out there that have been cold-cast. Lovely things, that would not have found their way into my cabinets, had they commanded the price of solid bronze.

So, I’ve got glass and ceramics, statues (I’m calling them that) and toys. (Okay: two Dinkies and a Matchbox.) All lovely things. All fun things. Just like business.