In my family, one sister loves anything purple, the other loves owls, and my mom loved a good treasure hunt. I also love purple, owls, and treasures; however, they had first dibs and it did not seem right for me to also enjoy them. It's funny how we put ourselves in boxes like that. 

When I was brainstorming business ideas, having had enough of the corporate world, the resale industry did not make it onto the whiteboard. Then I happened upon this beautifully framed Robert Kincade, and everything changed. I spent an entire morning analyzing every detail of this piece, which I now understand to be a lithograph. I happily researched its origins, rejoiced in the deal (paying only $50), and started to entertain the idea that maybe, just maybe, I could find treasures for a living. 

With a background in sales, marketing, writing, and research, it seemed like I had all the components to make this resale thing work, but could I really do it? I had my doubts.

Over the course of a few weeks, I poked around dusty shops, garage sales, and estate sales. I felt guilty trying to make a profit off of someone elses wares, so I researched in secret. I ducked into dressing rooms to Google prices as if what I was doing was something naughty. 

I bought one item at a time. 10 dollars was a big purchase for me. I thought it would take me forever to make this work. Then I met James.

I had stumbled into an estate sale he was working on, and as I approached a table filled with sewing patterns, I let it slip that I was thinking about opening an Etsy shop. His eyes lit up like a child on Christmas day. "Those patterns are a good collection for you," he said. "buy them all he said." "Go look in the garage," he instructed. "Buy when it's hot out," he advised. "The bundle is your friend," he said. 

James spent an entire day with me. He gave me a ton of helpful hints and he showed me his warehouse. "You can do this,"  he said. I started to believe that I could. 

Then I started doing it. 

Now, I buy in bulk (when I can). I no longer hide in the dressing room to use my phone. I text James when I am unsure about something. When I lament a mistake, I now reframe that as a "tuition payment". 

In the first month since I decided to do this crazy thing, I have amassed over 130 items on Etsy.

I have learned about 1970s studio pottery, 1950s peanut butter glasses, vintage sewing patterns, and more. 

I had one heck of a button haul that resulted in days of research. 

I fell in love with old vintage buttons like these 1950s white resin buttons.

 I learned the difference between mother-of-pearl buttons (real shells) 

And these mother-of-pearl (still fabulous) style buttons, made of resin.

I learned the difference between military uniform buttons like this button:

and reproductions and/or common buttons:

I found an old Cub Scout button from the 1950s.

 I drove everyone around me crazy for days talking about buttons.

I look forward to sharing my journey with you as I thoughtfully select products for A Tree Grows in Venice. 

For those curious about the name, A Tree Grows in Venice is a play on one of my favorite books, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. 

In A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, young Francie sits by a window and reads as a stubborn tree grows out of a sidewalk crack. Francie's tree finds a way to thrive in a concrete jungle, and this tree gives her shade and beauty as she reads. The tree is both form and function for Francie, allowing her to grow and thrive. 

Form and function are at the heart of A Tree Grows in Venice, a place where second-hand objects can thrive.

Happy shopping.