Vero Beach, Florida. The outdoor  antique fairs have got to be good here. Right? Little or no chance of rain, coatless weather, acres of antiques or junk as my husband refers to the varied treasures I pick up at such events. A person could stay out all day and acquire a healthy dose of Vitamin D to boot!

My friend Susan and I  enjoyed ourselves in our little piece of dusty  paradise when the wind came up. Big gusts of the wind, the vendors sprang into action. The blue-tarped makeshift roofs sheltering each stall blow hither and there causing great commotion. I quite enjoyed the gentle breeze, since I’m not accustomed to the 70 plus degree weather. I must say I’m sporting an unattractive sheen— well sweat actually, dripping from my brow.

“That medal is priced at $25.00 but you can have it for $10.00.” Said one harried vendor as her hair blew across her face and the poles holding the blue covering tilted precariously to one side.

“I’ll take it.” I said. I didn’t need a military medal but maybe one of my friends had a hankering for one. I simply had to buy it, I couldn’t pass up the bargain.

The sellers shouted out various offers with each tent we passed. I couldn’t believe it. I never wanted to leave—but my friends, Susan and Cathy had other plans. Drat.

"Finds" at the antique sale in Vero Beach, Florida

“Let’s go to Palm Beach, with the Bernie Madoff trickle down effect, we’re sure to find some good deals.” Said Susan.

So we loaded up our purchases and and headed for the town of Palm Beach. The girls drove straight to True Treasures Antiques—I got the feeling they had been there before. True Treasures is filled with “fine” (as my friend Susan likes to say) antiques. I’m rather taken aback with all the gilded furniture and silver accesories but then I don’t live in West Palm Beach. Maybe their dogs enjoy eating  from silver burnished bowls. I know my doggie, Mr. Big doesn’t care what sort of bowl he eats from as long as long as it’s filled with puppy chow. Mr. Big is getting rather fluffy but that’s another story.

And then I spied a long bead-encrusted satin elegant evening gown with long matching coat. I can’t believe it, it’s my size. The ticket said; worn to three inaguarations. Let’s see so that means that Bill, George, and Barack had all seen this dress. I don’t know, what if I’m invited to some soiree with Barack and he recognizes my dress?

Hey wasn’t Mrs. Big Deal from West Palm Beach wearing that very same dress at my inaugeuration?

Or Michelle might say, Good for you, I recognize that dress from Mrs. Big Deal, but on you, it’s fabulous, you mixed it up a bit with those pucca shells, and I love what you’ve done with the coat, I never thought of tying a coat around my waist. These flights of fancy filled my head as I admired the dress and held it up  with one foot pointed forward. Everyone knows if you point one foot forward, it helps the dress buying decision.

I passed on the dress but only because Mrs. Big Deal dribbled some coffee on the coat sleeve. “Hey lets go to some yard sales, I bet there’s some really good bargains in Palm Beach.” I said.

My friends looked at me with undisguised mirth.

“Shawn, yard sales aren’t allowed in West Palm, and even if they were, you wouldn’t be able to see over the hedge to find them.” Said Susan.

I can’t believe it. These poor people would never know the sheer joy of driving from one neighborhood to another on the lookout for treasures. What neighborhood committee would make such a stupid rule? I firmly resolved never to move to Palm Beach.

I guess I’m just a small town gal looking for some big time bargains.