When I was a little girl, I wanted to be Wonder Woman.
I paraded around daily in my star spangled underoos, yellow plastic crown on my head, declaring whichever piece of furniture I was sitting on to be my invisible helicopter.
I also wanted to be Stevie Nicks.
I would wear one of my mom's flowered sundresses and spin around the backyard, pretending I was in the Gypsy video.
As a slightly older child, I wanted to be Barbara Walters, after doing a school report on female journalists. If Christiane Amanpour had been around then, I'm sure she'd have been the focus of that particular phase.
I still have the need-to-be-cut bangs from the time I wanted to be Chrissie Hynde.
Last spring, or, better yet, just before the spring, I flung myself full tilt boogie into craft fairs, art markets, and other such handmade extravaganzas. I made and made and made, stocked up on and embellished little brown paper shopping bags, designed and laboriously hand-cut a ginormous stack of business cards, and thought, fleetingly, about changing up my displays.
You see, my displays are a bit of a touchy subject for me. They were thrown together, literally, out of a few pieces of scrap plywood, decoupaged in a paper quilt of vintagey floral scrapbooking papers, and poked and prodded with pastel-painted cup hooks. Rough-hewn as they might have been, they did the trick. They showed off the necklaces that started this whole little juggernaut off with great and eye-catching aplomb, setting my humble little booth apart from the other guys.
But, being hastily thrown together out of scraps, and carted too many times to too many outdoor shows to count, they are a bit worse for the wear. They were only ever expected to make it through that first show. That was two years ago.
Every second person to enter my little space at every single show I've ever done has, in some way or another, expressed a love of my displays. The displays with the holes where a hook can no longer be screwed in. The display whose back is covered in duct tape (classy). The displays with the torn paper edges, slightly camouflaged by a half a roll of scotch tape. The displays that fall over at the mere mention of a breeze. The displays I am beginning to loathe. But at the same time, I just can't seem to let them go.
So today, as the wind roars outside and a steady rain falls in the basement, I am turning my thoughts once again to displays. With one more outdoorshow to go this season, I know I'm already pushing my luck with my pretty, raggedy displays. (I'm hoping they can forgive me and see me through the holiday shows, once I tell them we'll be inside!)
And wishing I was just 1/10 as creative as Sarah Bagner, the brainchild behind Supermarket Sarah. Sarah's premise? The lovely object you are buying is coming straight off of her wall. After all, when a customer walks into my booth, isn't that kind of what I'm having them do?