Hoarded Ordinaries

//EDIT:// So, one of the friends I went vintage shopping with just started a blog. See her view of the day here.
I am a hoarder. I can see my first apartment in my mind's eye filled with quaint artifacts found in the local thrift shops and various sources of soft lighting. Since at the moment I have no such place for oddities, I merely admire them from a distance. Perhaps I make up for this desire by building up my wardrobe and hoarding "ordinaries." I hoard secrets like a gryphon, jewelry like a pirate, and even places are not safe from my need to posess and hide. However, this weekend I shared a couple of my secret vintage haunts with friends.

The first stop on our list was closed (since after all it was a Sunday), but we did not allow that to get our spirits down. We whipped along narrow country roads, through corn fields and past farm houses that seemed as old as the hills they stood upon. A single candle glowed in some of the windows, a tradition from when this area was part of the Underground Railroad that is kept alive today. Finally, arriving at our destination we trotted down cobbled streets and into old buildings now filled to brimming with vintage marvels. One such building had once been a dress-making shop, another was an old barn, and all gave you the sense that one day they will be something else again entirely. We wandered freely up and down aisles, connecting casually around certain rows and sharing our findings with each other. At the end of the day, treasures dangling casually from our wrists in bags we ran through a summer storm to our shared dormitory. For a moment it was just so easy and refreshing to be young and free.