Antiquesandallthatshit

Memorable moment... What better place to start this blog from than a room overlooking Waterloo Square in Amsterdam, which ranks among the great and classic venues for selling antique crap, especially fake antique crap. Thank God the antiques only make up about twenty % of the merchandise, the remainder is a colourful array of second hand clothing, third hand radios and of course, the mattresses. No more serious business than mattress selling. Every morning the saleswoman, a toadlike personality sporting a fierce blonde crewcut, enters the scene in her expensive black Volvo. After the unavoidable coffee drinking, she oversees the unloading of the mattresses and whatever accessories have happened their way into the truck today. Then she settles on one of the mattresses and brings out her personal organiser and laptop. The rest of the day her face is glued tot the screen of either appendage, only briefly interrupted by the occasional passerby or the arrival of lunch. At four o'clock sharp she orders the mattresses back into the trucks, slaps the lid on her laptop and drives away in her Volvo. Their is never any sign of any transaction being made, yet she seems to be doing quite well. Well let me tell you, this comes pretty close to my idea of a perfect existence...

Me, I would not be caught dead selling antiques in Waterloo Square. I consider myself too grand for that. No specific reason, mind you, just plain arrogance. I'm a parttime dealer in antiques, bric à brac and assorted old shit, mainly hauled in from the back alleys of French provincial towns and sold in the 'better' antiques markets of Holland and, of course, to as many unsuspecting shopowners as possible. And at no mean profit, I might add.