tintypes uncommon market my account
shopping cart
checkout
home   shop the shop   new & notable   about the shop   contact us   faq

testimonials
I can't keep up. Not even close. It is one of those silly little mysteries of life that intrigues me. You see my wife is not an athlete. I am. In fact, I am a bit of a fitness fanatic. Pounding out miles on the trail or hours in the gym is my cup of tea. Yet in the world of shopping, and in the arena of antiques, women's clothing, accessories, flea markets, and painted furniture, she demolishes me.

Her graceful movement from aisle to aisle is picturesque. Her plotted course from store to store is organized and precise. Her ability to search for good value and bargain is conducted with endless patience. When I accompany her on a day of shopping, her endless reservoir of energy reduces me to a sniveling heap of bone weary husband-mush by closing time.

I was thinking about this great mystery and wondering why I once again promised to accompany her on another shopping excursion. She wanted to visit a store called Tin Types and despite the tug of my own desires; a few hours with the power tools in the workshop, a hard fought battle with the weights in the gym, or a casual morning ride on my beloved John Deere, mowing a lawn that didn't need mowing, I said I would go with her.

Tin Types is located in Bath, Maine, a shipbuilding town built along the mighty Kennebec River in the mid-coast region of "vacation land." Beautiful old captain's mansions and red brick buildings dominate this small town of hard-working shipbuilders, prideful storeowners, Restaurateurs, bankers and other professionals. There is even a great coffee shop. My wife liked the shop's moniker, "Not your Mama's Mercantile!" I was expecting another antique store filled with dusty old books and moss smelling furniture. Tin Types surprised us both.

The shop is on the far side of the town's main street (front Street) just past the beautiful old library lawn. There is a row of brightly colored Adirondack chairs lined up in front of the store. Not just bright paint but really hip colors of blue, green, orange, yellow and red. When we pulled up, there was this incredibly handsome dude playing the guitar and singing. My wife whispered to herself, "oh my gosh! I want one of him!" He smiled and said hello as we walked through the open front door. We smiled back as he kept on playing.

I was thinking "how come I can't look like that or play the guitar like that" when I heard my wife once again exclaim, "Oh my Gosh!" "Oh my Gosh!" "This store is so cool…"

Inside, in only a few short minutes, the beauty of the collection of eclectic items for sale had my wife intoxicated. There was hand made Jewelry, hand made clothing and a collection of tee shirts with sayings like, "when in doubt, smile" and "Be the miracle." There were brightly colored oriental rugs. They were everywhere. The shop had this really cool blue painted cement floor, and there was lots of painted furniture and cool antiques. There were huge pieces of drift wood hanging from the wall and hanging from the driftwood were purses and bags and other things my wife couldn't stop touching. There was a wall of sea bags made from old ship's sails, each bag unique with its sail markings and numbers. There was tasteful art everywhere. Painted peeling furniture, glass bowls, wooden bowls and vases of fresh flowers. Overstuff chairs and couches and even a chaise lounge covered in cowhide. The most amazing things were displayed in the most amazing way as if to say, "this would look really cool in your home just like it looks really cool in here!"

This, indeed was not your mama's mercantile…

There was another handsome guy hanging rope from the 25-foot ceiling. His forearms were huge as he twisted and tied the rope in knots to hang the biggest metal star I have ever seen. He moved from that chore to another and then another, hanging paintings and shadow boxes, light fixtures, and mirrors. My wife was enthralled. I could see her mind racing and her eyes darting everywhere. Sometimes she would utter, "What a great idea!" or I never would have thought of that!" I was studying some primitive shadowboxes made by a local artist when I heard, "would you like a mimosa?" I turned to see a beautiful women offering my wife champagne and orange juice. She was speckled with paint, Blonde. Wore cut off jeans and a tank top. She had champagne in one hand and paintbrush in the next.

"Oh my Gosh," I thought. "Why can't my wife look like that?"

OK, that wasn't fair. But then another beautiful women approached me. She had auburn hair and was wearing overalls. She said, "I noticed you were looking at the shadow boxes." My husband made all of them.

"Your husband?"

"Yes," she said and pointed to the guy with the huge knotted forearms. "He is a lobster fisherman and deep sea tuna Fisherman but his real love is making these shadow boxes or painting."

"Wow. He is really good."

Then a third incredibly beautiful women walked in carrying a handful of fresh flowers that she put into a giant glass vase of a fish. She was wearing a Tintypes tee -shirt that said. "Smile like you mean it."

I kind of liked this store . . .

Guitar boy walked in and started helping forearms. They were moving some huge desk with a several drawers to the corner of the store. My wife now had a glass of champagne with fresh strawberries and the look of a very contented shopper.

"It is hard to take it all in." There is so much!" she said.

I asked, "smile" shirt, her name was Haley, why the name "Tintypes," having some vague memory of a rusty little tin figurine. She said that she owned the store and her sisters, Marnie (auburn Hair) and Clemmie (blonde with paint brush) and that they named their store after a line in the musical, "Carousel."

"A kind of sweet and petite little tintype of her mother," said Haley, quoting the line . . . "We are all kind of tin types of each other and our mother and we have always wanted to have a shop together."

"Clemmie lives in Texas and Marnie and I live in Maine. Clemmie and her family own a little cottage in Five Islands and so she is with us for most of the summer months."

I asked if she was married too, and did the husbands work in the shop as well. As if on queue, in walked a little guy carrying some artwork under his arm.

"That is my husband, said Haley."

"Kind of a runt," I thought. But my wife was checking him out. Or maybe it was the colorful artwork.

"If we like it, we buy it." Said Marnie. She pointed to the longest old farm table I have ever seen. " Michael (forearms) and I bought that table many years ago and pledged to build a house around it." Instead, it sits in front of the shop's hip glass garage door and displays a wonderful assortment of things to buy.

Haley was showing my wife a snakeskin table, antique captain's chairs, and something called a faux bois table base with a marble top. It looked like fake wood to me. Then she was showing her old painted pails and hand stitched pillows and really exotic colored plastic dishware. There were polka dots everywhere. I asked my wife if polka dots were still in.

Clemmie must have heard me and chimed in, "Polka dots are eternal!"

Haley was showing my wife a hot turquoise faux (there is that word again) gator bench. She said it was practically indestructible and even I (meaning me) couldn't hurt it.

"That must be a faux bois mirror," I said trying to sound like I knew what I was talking about and pointing to a really interesting mirror displayed above a custom hand made kilim upholstered couch from Turkey.

"No. That's real wood." Said Marnie.

My wife meandered for several hours. She bought a bunch and pledged to return. It was getting near closing time and there seemed to be a crowd gathering outside on the Adirondacks. More guitars, glasses of wine, and lots of singing were taking place right in front of the store. The little guy even brought out a harmonica. I sat down in the green chair and realized that for the first time ever, I wasn't exhausted, bored or angry that I had gone shopping with my wife. In fact, I was actually kind of relaxed. I asked the handsome guy (Brant) if they did this sort of gathering often?

"Almost every night in the summer!" he said.

"Do you have a guitar?" he asked me.

"No. But now I own a really cool chaise lounge covered in cow hide!"

© 2008 tintypes uncommon market    
tintypes uncommon market's Facebook Page

Web Hosting Provided by Maine Hosting Solutions