PICKERS? How to use Garage Sales to Make Extra Cash

GREAT ADVICE ON PICKING UP SOME GARAGE SALE TREASURE!

By Craig Wilson, USA TODAY

ALEXANDRIA, Va. — It's 7:30 on a Saturday morning, and Bruce Littlefield is raring to go.
He has a wad of money in his front pocket — $300, mostly in $1 bills — and he has rented a convertible "in case we find something that might need some headroom."
He did. By 10:15 his pockets were empty and the convertible, its top down, was overflowing. According to his calculations, this Saturday morning's "finds" were worth close to $3,000.

It's all in a day's work for one of America's savviest pickers.
Littlefield, 38, a New York City-based designer and lifestyle guru, is author of Garage Sale America (HarperCollins, $19.95), an entertaining look at an obsession shared by millions. He began hitting garage sales in his native South Carolina when he was a child and has been looking for a deal ever since.

"But I don't do dumps. I've done a Dumpster or two, but I don't do dumps," he says with a chuckle as he scans the classified ads and a map of suburban Washington, D.C., zeroing in on his first garage sale of the day. Soon he's pulling up to a 9 a.m. sale and strolling up the driveway. It's 8:15.
"Once they put the sign up and give people an arrow, it's fair game," he says, starting a pile of "finds" almost immediately.

Half an hour later — 15 minutes before the sale's official opening — he's pulling away with an antique terrarium with "great patina," a children's wicker table with two chairs, a quilt and pillow covers (not old), a funky high-back doll's chair and seven etched martini glasses. Total: $70.

"We scored," he says. "We scored big time."
But before Littlefield even loads his treasures into the car, he's offered more money for the wicker set (he turns it down) but sells the terrarium and doll's chair for $40 to one of his morning passengers. The terrarium alone, he confesses, would bring hundreds of dollars at any upscale antique shop.

Littlefield is on a roll and couldn't be happier with the way the morning is starting.
"Garage sale hunters don't head out to a sale saying we need a vintage sprinkler or a Red Riding Hood cookie jar," he writes in his book's introduction. "We head out hunting for just the thing we've always wanted, even though we don't know exactly what that is."

This is proven at the next stop, where Littlefield stumbles upon a large wood skittle board game (miniature bowling pins). He snatches it up for $80. He says it'll be perfect in his home in upstate New York, a house filled with his garage-sale finds.
He passes on two $25 wicker chairs in perfect condition ("I just can't get them back home") and a roomful of books.

"I'm not the type to look through books, especially paperbacks. Nor do I usually pick up things that need to be fixed." He nabs a Waterford pen for $25, however, because he knows it could bring $125. Not that he's selling. He's buying.
He throws in a multicolored striped hammock ("perfect for the farm"), a throw rug for his bathroom ("the floors are so bad"), three tablecloths and some linen coasters, and walks away with the lot for $130.

It's then that the roofless car comes in handy, because the skittle board needs to be stood on its end in the back seat. "Unfortunately, we can't buy anything else big," he says with a sigh.
The biggest mistake garage salers make, he says, is buying things they aren't going to use.
"People think if it's a good deal they have to have it, but it's the quintessential mistake at garage sales."

The other mistake is not buying something when you see it. Littlefield's biggest regret is not picking up a Bert and Ernie puppet set for $8 last summer. "It was in perfection condition, too."
Not much is getting away from him this morning, however.
He picks up a picture frame in the shape of a TV at one neighborhood sale — "I have friends in TV who this will be perfect for" — but it's at his final stop that he hits pay dirt: six chenille bedspreads from the '40s, all in perfect condition: $15 each. One even sports a double peacock design.

"It's the most collectible of all," he says, quickly calling an antique dealer friend to confirm it. She does. The peacock spread alone will bring about $350.
"See, I could resell that and everything else I bought this morning is free. And the best thing is it's the ultimate in green living. You're recycling. It's the best of all worlds."