Let’s chalk this up to a learning experience.

There are a few rules when you’re buying vintage.

Turn it over.
Look for the maker’s mark.
Hold it up to the light.
Check the rim.
And, for heaven’s sake, check for cracks and repairs before handing over your money.

I know this.

I absolutely know this.

And yet, I recently broke one of my own rules.

And I’m glad I did.

It Started With a Little Old Lady in My Neighbourhood

She had placed an ad on Facebook Marketplace. She was selling some of her things because she was getting ready to move into a seniors’ facility.

She told me she had a heart condition. She told me her sister had died just a few weeks ago, and the story of how she had taken care of her sister in her last days- what a beautiful person.

And there I was, looking through pieces from a life that was being packed up, sorted through and sent off to new homes.

The whole reason I met with her was to purchase a piece that I had been dreaming of forever. I’d never seen a single piece of that porcelain ever in real life, and she had two pieces for sale; and I bought them both. I won’t spoil that part of the story because I'm saving it for my December Letter from the Road.

Then I spotted it.

A piece of fine porcelain.

And not just any piece. A Herend.

Herend is in my Holy Trinity of Porcelain Collectibles; in order it goes: 1. Flora Danica by Royal Copenhagen (if you are going to dream, dream BIG), 2. There are too many sets I love by Bernardaud; the Marie-Antoinette series is what dreams are made of, and I also love the Chateaubriand Couleur, 3. Queen Victoria by Herend - hand-painted perfection.

I thought I had found an absolute dream. One of those incredible finds that makes a vintage hunter’s heart start beating a little faster.

But let's just say...

I handed over the $10 pretty happily.

And Then I Got Home

This is where every experienced thrifter reading this is going to know exactly what happened next.

I took another look.

And there it was.

The crack.

Worse, it wasn't simply cracked.

At some point, the piece had broken and been glued back together.

How had I missed it?

I inspected it again from every possible angle, perhaps hoping that if I stared at it long enough the glue would somehow disappear.

Nope.

Still there.

My incredible little score suddenly wasn't quite the score I thought it was.

I had screwed up.

Vintage Hunting Rule No. 1: Look carefully before you buy.

Lesson learned.

Again.

I Could Have Taken It Back

Technically, I suppose I could have knocked on her door. She was right down the street.

I could have shown her the crack.

I could have explained that I hadn't noticed the repair when I bought it.

And maybe I could have gotten my $10 back.

But I couldn't do it.

I kept thinking about her.

She was leaving her home and moving into a seniors' facility. She was parting with possessions that had presumably lived alongside her for years. And suddenly my ten-dollar vintage-buying mistake didn't feel terribly important.

That $10 meant more to her than it did to me.

So I’m keeping the piece. Crack, glue and all.

Every Piece tells a Story

The funny thing about loving old things is that we say we love their history.

We love patina.

We love worn edges.

We love faded handwriting on the backs of postcards and scratches on old furniture.

We love objects precisely because somebody else had them before us.

But sometimes we only want that history if it's pretty.

A crack? A repair? Someone else's attempt to glue something precious back together?

That's different. Or maybe it isn't.

Someone cared enough about this piece to repair it rather than throw it away.

Now there's another chapter in its story. Mine.

The chapter where an overly excited vintage hunter saw something wonderful, forgot to inspect it properly, paid $10 for it, and discovered the truth when she got home.

And decided to keep it anyway.

Not Every Treasure Has to Be Perfect

Would I buy it again knowing about the repair? Maybe not. Would I tell someone else buying fine porcelain to carefully check for cracks, chips and repairs?

Absolutely.

Do I regret giving that sweet lady the $10?

Not for a second.

Because sometimes the value of an old thing has absolutely nothing to do with what you could resell it for. Sometimes the story becomes part of its value. And every time I look at that cracked old piece of porcelain, I'll remember the woman I bought it from.

I'll remember standing in her basement suite living room thinking I had stumbled across the find of my dreams. I'll remember getting home and realizing I'd made a rookie mistake. To be honest, I’m questioning if it is actually a Herend now… meh. C’est la vie.

She can keep the $10. I'll keep the cracked porcelain. Maybe I was there to pay $10 in a life lesson.

I think we're even.