The Antiques Garage at 25th Street off 6th Avenue is my ideaof hell on earth*.
Obviously lots of people love it
and dress up to go there. Outside of Halloween, I've rarely seen so many people in costume picking over the unwanted possessions, antiques, collectibles, bric-a-brac, clothes, toys and assorted junk of people who are dead already, probably.
I have too vivid an imagination, and start wondering where this stuff came from and what sort of lives its owners led. Who sat in this gilt, brocade chair? What are those blobbles?
And who sat on this silver stool in front of the magic mirror putting on make-up?
And then the tortured Christ-figures all ribs and blood-on-the-feet
not to mention the poor dollies boneyard.
The mannequins' tennis party next door was almost a relief.
* Then why go, you sensibly ask? I wanted to sell some old china dolls. Failed to do so. and will never go there ever again. Karen, take note!