The Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) Folding Table Story Post
If you're in a hurry and have no interest in reading a long account of me waxing poetic about this find, skip ahead.
So I am in my Jeep, egg and pork roll sandwich recently devoured, piping hot Styrofoam cup of coffee in hand, literally creeping out of my flea market at 5mph when I spot a folding card table leaning against a telephone pole in one of the house liquidator guys areas.
My interest in it is purely in
use.
If you've been following my finds, you know I hardly ever buy anything useful. (Funny, but true.) I am not a utilitarian tools guy, I buy collectibles, and I hardly ever venture far from that outlook. But I have been planning to hold a big yard sale to offload a bunch of my tools for quite some time (probably Spring 2019), and although I plan to borrow folding tables from my neighbors, I could use as many folding tables as I can get.
This one looks a little flimsy and a little old-fashioned, but kind of neat, and I like the color.
So I pull to the side, put it in neutral, crank the emergency brake, leave the car running, the door open, and scurry over to check it out.
I immediately see from the construction and the stylings and the Art Deco bakelite handle that it’s a vintage 50’s folding table. And it’s pretty effing cool. I am laughing to myself, now, thinking, ‘
here I am trying to break my usual mode to buy something functional for a change – and it turns out to be vintage!’
Here are some pics of it I took when I got home...
Then I see the "Good Design" sticker. It's torn in half, and some schmoe scribbled all over it - ironically trying to strike-out the very thing that gives it its value, but it's still legible.
This is what it says:
The Manufacturer guarantees that this article corresponds in every particular to the one chosen by the Museum of Modern Art, New York, for the Good Design Exhibition at the Merchantile Mart, Chicago. A registered description of this article is available for inspection at the Museum, at the Mart, in the Manufacturer's files.
Now, as I was standing there at the flea market I didn’t know exactly what the sticker meant, or exactly how old it was, but I knew it was something special. Something unusual. I allowed myself a very brief, exhilarating moment, almost an unconscious flash, to reflect on the mix of good instincts, weird *** luck, and total coincidence that often align at the most unanticipated times to grace pickers with these kinds of finds.
I look up. Dependable Don (that really is his business name) is sitting in his car to stay warm.
I make a ‘
How much?’ gesture at the table.
He flashes me an open hand. Five bucks.
SOLD!
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