Third Street between Sixth and Seventh Avenues is a most excellent spot for stoop sales. This is largely due to the amount of pedestrian traffic we get. But the big front yards between the limestone buildings and the sidewalk make for ample display space, which add to the overall appeal.
Some years are more stoop-saleish than others. It depends on the mood. When our apartment feels particularly cluttered, a stoop sale can seem like a clear path to a minimalistic existence. I tend to price items very low in the hopes of selling everything and not having to cart unpurchased items to the Salvation Army or back upstairs.
Sometimes the kids, those little capitalists, decide to sell their no-longer needed toys and books at a stoop sale. But it’s amazing how little they are willing to part with. When my daughter decides to "sell all the toys she doesn’t want anymore" her inventory is usally pretty sparse as there are few things she is EVER willing to part with. My husband is the same way.
Friends, who live on less ideal stoop sale blocks, often ask if they can use our stoop for a sale. And we always acquiesce because there is nothing more festive than a stoop sale even if we do have to step over merchandise on the way in and out of the building.
On Sunday, a clothing designer-friend set up a clothing rack on the street and sold her chic skirts made made from vintage and upholstery fabrics, embroidered t-shirts, and hip kid’s clothing. The name of her company is Fofalle, which means Wicked Girl in French, and her designs are available at various Brooklyn boutiques including Flirt and Shangri-La.
Business was steady for most of the day. Customers tried on the appealing skirts in the vestibule of the building, which happens to have a full-length mirror, and makes a perfect, if slightly public, dressing room.
Fofalle’s sale inspired some of the younger members of the building to create a lemonade stand. Manicure and pedicures were also offered for a decent price if you didn’t mind a little extra nail polish around your toes and fingernails. The girls sat at a small Fisher-Price picnic and water table waiting for customers, occassionally shouting out: "MANICURES, LEMONADE! MANICURES, LEMONADE!"
More than one passerby asked if the Fisher-Price picnic and water table was for sale.
"No!" came the quick reply from one parent or another. The funny thing is: that table was given to the building when it didn’t sell at another Third Street stoop sale. Nobody wanted that thing just a few weeks ago; today it was a hot item.
The various sales also inspired another resident of the building to sort through the abundance of stuff in her apartment for items suitable for her own stoop sale. As is often the case, this kind of "sorting" can lead to domestic distress, when one spouse’s garbage is another spouse’s gold. I have that problem myself and it is a source of almost constant frustration. My propensity for "sorting" leads my husband to inspect out-going garbage on a regular basis checking to make sure I haven’t discarded any "treasures."
Suffice it to say, that stoop sale never materialized. But neighbors sat at the green metal table eating potato chips, drinking the children’s lemonade, and watching customers come and go, encouraging some to buy (skirts, lemonade, manicures) but in a very low key sort of way.