Because really, I think we all need someone around when we're marathon thrifting - to talk us out of the beautiful, but overpriced tablecloth (to the cries of, "but it's Vera!"); to restore breathing when spotting the most gorgeous of doll quilts that would blow the day's whole budget; to pace oneself through the aisles and aisles of goodness; to gently nudge one out of the temporary lapse in taste (ahem.); to remind one of the vintage apron collection already at home; to aid in the selection of the *perfect* salt and pepper shakers (important decisions, I tell you!), as though they really care. Because, well, they actually really do care about such things. And most importantly, to encourage each other that, YES!, whatever we've got our heart set on is simply GORGEOUS and perfect and a bargain, and a must have. Of course. This is the kind of support a good friend lends, right?
And then there is the help to pull me out (quite literally) of the vortex that is my favorite flea market stall - at just the right time before I crawl myself under the table with all the vintage fabrics for an uncivilized little lie down. Oh, but wouldn't that be nice. (By the way, I'm not pregnant. Just looking pregnant. Fun. I've just now decided never to wear that shirt again.)