Kitschy Coo!

A little over a week ago, my friend and I had a table at a craft show in a relatively big city nearby. We had to apply to get in as "guest artists"; it was all so above-the-board.

We've had a table at our local farmer's market for a couple of months now, run by myself and my friend's husband. His t-shirts sold pretty well, often selling three or so every week. My stuff, on the other hand, ran hot and cold. Some days, I would sell a couple of album bags and other times I would be lucky to sell a little $5 wallet. It's not the place for us to sell our funky stuff. People are there to buy meat. But the cost of the table was cheap.

Participating in this craft show, however, was like coming home. The DJ was already set up, cranking out Stevie Wonder's Superstition as we walked in with our boxes. A good start. After we set up and walked around a little, my friend made the astute observation that all the sellers looked like us. We all dressed the same. We all had bobbed hair with the severe bangs. Oh yes. We fit in quite nicely.

And our handiwork? Well, not only were the other crafters like-minded, but the customers were too. Finally, our stuff was appreciated. My friend's retro hanger plaques, the ones that never ever sold before, were all lapped up within a few hours. Many people were buying two at a time, as they were with her coil-bound journals. My album bags were well-received, along with my purses made from books and way more Kool-Aid Jammer accessories than I thought would sell. Profit? Well, let's just say that I earned enough for that bathroom sink, cabinet and faucet I've had my eye on.

The other crafters came around to see us through the day and they were very welcoming. "You guys put the 'kitsch' in our name." We were even invited back to participate in the Christmas show (which we are SO doing).

We were also asked if we'd be interested in joining their roller derby team. I considered it for a nanosecond, but then remembered I like my teeth.