yard sales offer good deals in a bad economy

Like literal signs of spring, hand-drawn yard sale posters appear around the Seacoast in warm weather.

We meet our neighbors and handle the discarded contents of their lives, exposed to the sunlight and priced cheap. We pass by the toys their children outgrew and the furniture their loved ones left them. We look curiously at the “as seen on TV” gadgets, the record collections and Atari games, and take home a used book.

People always have yard sales in the summer, but this year the motivation may be different. “More out of necessity,” said Brian Gottlob, principal of PolEcon Research in Dover.

After a rainy week, the weather on the first Sunday of July was ideal for yard sales. Some people advertised in advance in newspapers and online, while others acted spontaneously, like Michelle Mayo and Lynette Nicholas in Portsmouth.

The two friends were selling things that had belonged to Mayo’s mother, who lived through the Great Depression and was a collector as a result. Mayo said she’s the opposite way. She would rather do without than have things she doesn’t need. “I like to live simple,” she said.

They sold used clothing, household goods and outdated technology. An entire box of VHS tapes was priced at $4. They also had an unopened American flag that was timely for the holiday weekend.

Nicholas said a successful yard sale means negotiating and being willing to take the best offer. A yard sale they had two weeks prior had gone well, but there was still more to sell. Some people will buy “yard sale leftovers” to resell, often at online auction sites like eBay.  

People are resourceful and creative when it comes to making ends meet, Gottlob said. There’s indirect evidence of a rise in bartering both between businesses and individuals, for example. Exchanging goods and services is a way for people to gain from skills they might not be using in their current job, he said. 

Because of job losses, pay cuts and restricted access to credit, people may be buying less from retail stores and more from secondhand stores and yard sales, Gottlob said. While business at thrift stores may be up, charitable donations may be down, he added.

What people are likely to buy at yard sales is another change, Gottlob said. Rather than seeking out rare treasures, shoppers may be more inclined to get necessities like clothing or furniture.  

Alysia Lemelin and her almost three-year-old daughter Lacy went to both a flea market and an indoor sale in Rochester on Sunday. She bought Lacy two Barbie dolls and four outfits for $2, and bought her son a book.

Yard sales have always been a fun way to shop and socialize, Lemelin said, but lately she’s been looking for inexpensive entertainment for her kids. “Right now there’s no money going around,” she said.

Her best yard sale find was years ago when she said she bought a “gorgeous” antique mirror for $5 in York, Maine. “Sometimes you find treasures if you know what to look for,” Lemelin said.

In Somersworth, Amanda Breitmaier sold furniture that belonged to her grandmother, who recently moved to a retirement home. She posted online at Craig’s List and hoped people would see the signs she put up near the busy street. Toys and random objects were also for sale, such as a hummingbird feeder that was purchased for $1. “I’m just hoping to make some money off it,” she said.

Since many people are coping without credit, they’re likely to get cash by selling things to pawn shops or at yard sales, Gottlob said. “People are very innovative if they have a need for goods or services,” he said. “In those situations, people are creative.”
It’s not a good sign for the economy when people have to look for alternative ways of making money, but Gottlob said it’s good that people have options.

In Northwood, yard sale permits were up to 66 last year compared to 58 in 2007. Board secretary Diane Young said residents began requesting permits in May this year and have taken out more than 20 already.

Most cities on the Seacoast don’t require permits to a hold a yard sale on private property, including Portsmouth, Dover, Rochester and Exeter. But Northwood and North Hampton do require permits. Northwood residents are limited to six sales per year to reduce traffic hazards. Young said parking on the street for yard sales can cause difficulties for emergency vehicles.

In North Hampton, yard sale numbers have consistently been between 50 and 70 per year over the last five years. There were 54 in 2006, 61 in 2007 and 64 last year. So far this year, there were 32 permits issued as of Monday, according to the police station’s administrative assistant, Jess Miehle.

Permits are available at the police station for a $5 fee. North Hampton residents are only permitted to have two yard sales in a year. Each permit allows for up to three consecutive days and there must be at least 30 days in between each permit. Miehle said the law was enacted in the late 1970s.

Robin Ricard invites yard sale shoppers into her Rochester apartment on Sundays to browse boxes full of books, shelves of dishes and racks of children’s clothes. On Saturdays, she said, she goes to yard sales herself. That’s one way she has accumulated what she calls junk. “Everybody does yard sales these days,” she said.

Ricard is downsizing to a smaller apartment and doesn’t have room for all the things she now owns. She sets prices low but isn’t ready to give things away yet. “But probably I will end up totally giving away some things anyway,” she said. One way she might do that is online at the Freecycle Network, where people can give away what they don’t need and find things they do need.

The recession may have many people realizing they can live without the latest and greatest things and stop compiling debt, Gottlob said. “People are doing more with less,” he said. Financial difficulties have spread far up the income scale. This has the potential to change thinking, he added. 

Deb and Korac MacArthur of Dover had a yard sale over the weekend to get rid of some things they don’t use and just take up space or clutter the house. They moved a couple of years ago and found that there was no reason to unpack some of the boxes. “It’s a way to get it out of the house and make a little money,” Korac said.

He added that it’s not really profitable, though, since he’s only asking 75 cents for science fiction books he once bought at full retail price. “You might get a dollar for something you paid $20 for,” he said. “But everybody wants something for nothing.”

The couple usually sells items at flea markets. They make tie-dyed clothes and bandanas, as well as homemade jams from local fruits. At the yard sale, they were also selling hundreds of Marvel comic books, some records, holiday decorations and googly eye glasses.

The yard sale economy may be around for a while. Gottlob said the recession is not showing improvement as employment claims and job losses continue to rise in the state. “I’m waiting for a clear sign,” he said. “It’s just not there.”

‘Yard Sale’
by Anna Birch

It’s not what we’re used to
discarding our house on the side of the street
letting the cracked china go.
Like standing naked in front of the neighbors,
nocturnal animals forced into light.

But since the doors already lean away from their hinges,
why not open our secret heart to the crows,
reveal this beautiful wreckage, the hope inherent
in my grandmother’s unused set of punch glasses.
Let us give them a window to see us by,
how we sleep, what we pray to,
what we hold.

A old photograph we keep in the house
shows women and men in dark hats and coats,
and my grandmother—then nine—
a white flash of gown and smile across the frame,
galloping spirit, all light and air.

Today she is 94 and carries a liquor box full of pinecones from the fall,
wants five dollars for it. They are clean,
she says, gathered myself, they are all clean.
I want to take her back to the laundry room,
lock her in there, keep her safe.
They will take us piece by piece.

The first two hours are relentless,
teacup, shoehorn, bone.
They turn and twirl things in their hands,
they hold us up to the light.

Grandmother,
mother, sister, child.

The men have all died or gone to the ocean,
left us here with bags full of puzzles and silk,
blue onion porcelain.
Two women fight over a three-legged chair.

We carry old trunks from the house
children we have turned out
but can’t bear to see lifted by their tired limbs—taken away by strangers.

But let us not forget the man from Ontario
the crooked blue songbook he pulled from the stack.
How he started quietly,
I’ll be seeing you
his voice a salve
a warm opening
In all the old familiar places,
a low earthbound prayer.
And while his middle-aged daughter
tugged at his sleeve, embarrassed,
how he lifted his face to the sun,
to our eyes, and how my grandmother
brought her hand to her cheek,
how she blushed
like a child.

getting the chair

Ruthless efficiency was one of the hallmarks of the Spanish Inquisition (at least, according to Monty Python), and it happens to be one of the secrets to good yard sale-ing. This was the case at a yard sale a few weekends ago, when I spotted an awesome vintage red wing-back chair at a yard sale. After a quick comfort test (like sitting on a 40-year-old cloud!), I approached the owner, intent on taking the chair home for $20. She ran down the chair’s history—found in a dump, hundreds of dollars of painstaking restoration, untouched by human butts for decades. A fine story, but my sympathy remained untouched and I went ahead with my way-too-cheap offer. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw another enterprising yard saler doing his own comfort test on the chair and conferring with his girlfriend. Competition! I would not be denied, though, and preemptively pulled $20 out of my wallet. “Well…okay,” the chair’s owner said reluctantly. I slapped the $20 into her hands, grabbed the chair and made a hasty retreat to my car, all while my erstwhile opponent stood nearby, still pondering the chair. Did I feel a little bad about scoring such a sweet chair for such a low price (not to mention buying it out from under someone else)? Let’s just say that whatever tiny bit of guilt I had was quickly assuaged after relaxing in the chair. —Larry Clow