A play of light and shadows.

[tedwords]

“As we let our light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence actually liberates others.” — Marianne Williamson

In case I haven't mentioned it lately, I really do enjoy that Corb has opened and established his own lighting restoration business. It's been a fun change of pace, and with me focused more these days on my day job and less on theater work, I like the "something totally different" feel to my life...the new chapter, if you will...that Corb's adventures in retail have been providing me.

Corb's main love is restoring old chandeliers, and his space is located in a LGBTQIA+-owned store called Shiplap and Chandeliers, which is another thing I love. Brittney and Tara, the owners, are wonderful people and we have become good friends with them this past year. It's been great to see how the store has evolved since it first opened a little over a year ago, especially (selfishly) Corb's space, which has doubled in size since he first turned the lights on and is about to expand again in January. He's really doing well for himself.

I find I really appreciate the vibe a vintage shop exudes. The smells and the visuals are warm and inviting. There's activity taking place all the time, which is fun. There's always something new that needs changing. 

Today, for example, we went in, because the day before, Corb sold one of his display tables, a beautiful dresser, something he was not intending to sell. But sell it did, so he now has less than a week to find a replacement. He wanted to get into the store today to see what needed to be removed from inside the dresser and scout out a few options.

While he was there, we noticed a woman spending a lot of his time in his booth, gazing at a few of his more interesting items. "She says she's interested in a chandelier," one of the other vendors told Corb. 

Well, Corb nodded calmly and we walked away. Once we were outside the store, I whispered, "You should go in and see what she is looking for."

"I hate hovering over people," he replied. "I think it annoys them."

"I'm not saying hover. No hover! it's just, she just keeps staring at the same item. I think she'd appreciate some help."

And so, grudgingly, Corb went back in and struck up a conversation with her. And sure enough, she was interested in one of his pendant lights, only she was concerned that the chain swag was too long (did I use the right terms? Corb will surely tell me later). Corb said he could fix that easily and a deal was struck.

I couldn't resist the temptation to lay into him after the sale was made. "I told him so," I whispered to Tara at one point, all gleeful in my smugness. 

But that's the fun of it, I think. I love watching the people go in, the conversations taking place. If you don't engage in the conversation, nothing can happen, right? There is no place to go from nowhere. Or, alternatively, there is every place to go from stepping away from nowhere. 

Some of Corb's best deals have been struck through the art of the conversation, including a nice deal he has now as an approved vendor for HBO in the Northeast US region. You will see several of his pieces in a few projects that will be airing in the near future (I am not at liberty to say which ones, alas. At least, for now).  

That aside, aside from the talk talk talk, I have to admit, my favorite moments at the store actually take place after hours, when nobody's around. Every Thursday night, after I finish up my work for the day, Corb heads to Shiplap to set up for the next day, for the week-end rush of business. And while he is a hive of activity, moving things around and making new additions and getting everything looking wonderful, what do I do? '

I get my steps in. 

It's my best walking day of the week, honestly. The shop is set up so it's a circular walk within a big old abandoned mill. So, I start at one end (Corb's space is located at the front entrance) and make my way around, doing figure eights and multiple loops. Sometimes I will go all OCD and do three figures eights in certain corners of the shops, just to expand the walk. It must look crazy on the security monitor, but I can easily clear 1,000 steps in just a few loops, playing my music and dancing around. 

It's a nice feeling. The store is all dark and shadowy, with just enough light to illuminate the way. I make my way past all of the mini booths, the rows of candles, old books, restored tables, chairs, paintings, glassware, foods, flags, jewelry. Each and every area tells its own unique story, has its own different vibe. Each is a representation of the creativity and imagination of the person or persons who own the space I am passing through temporarily. And each story evolves and changes as the weeks go on, as I pass through on different Thursday nights.

I love to play music to fit the mood as I walk through. Many evenings it can be seventies disco, but lately I've been vibing out to Steely Dan, which has a smooth jazz feel unless you pay attention to the lyrics, which are invariably about pimps and whores. I kind of like that after-midnight kind of feel.

Some evenings I will think of myself as an adventurer in an abandoned warehouse, trying to pick up the scent of the ghosts that surely roam the space.

Anyway, I've been enjoying the adventure so far, and I probably have painted it a bit more dramatically than it actually is. But you know how old theater guys are--every new location is simply a different stage waiting for that call for "action."