Charity shop chronicles: Discovering the unexpected in charity shop treasures

A few days ago, Owen /Crazy Sheep wrote an article about a rather interesting vintage book he found when browsing in a charity shop. He found an almost 100-year-old French cookbook! Of course, the French book was written in French, as you can guess.

Despite Crazy Sheep understating little more than croissant, pain au chocolat, and patisserie his guts told him to buy it. It was a 30p investment (30 pence / £0.30, or $0,38) that can become an unexpected treasure, or a source of future success when paired with the right idea.

This book is a little piece of culinary history! A rarity for book lovers and collectors of antiquities. A book full of deliciousness enjoyed by the French almost 100 years ago. If I were planning a wedding or a special birthday party I surely would love to offer my guests a taste of vintage French patisserie.

The good news is Crazy Sheep has decided to share some of the book with us all. He’s got really good ideas and a plan for using the book on a rather interesting project.

This whole French recipe book affair got me thinking how charity shops are like little history archives. When you enter a charity shop you are soon transported into a different time in the past.

Who were those people who owned those things? What was their story? How was their life? Those objects that once belonged to someone else are now waiting for someone in a different era to give them a new life. They are waiting for someone who, perhaps, could cook/bake their recipes, or tell their story.

How much of what you own will end up in a charity shop or in a flea market after you have passed?

After reading the story about the old French cookbook I remembered when Finnish filmmaker and photographer Antti Seppänen told me the story behind a documentary film he made.

As it happened, Antti found two random boxes full of postcards, letters, and 8 mm films with pictures from all over the world in a flea market. The films were clearly filmed by the same person who wanted to document his memories from travelling around the world.

The seller didn’t know anything about the person who had owned the contents in the boxes. After doing some research, Antti found out the person had, indeed, passed away. He didn’t have any immediate relatives alive.

After this person passed away, his whole life and experiences were put in boxes and were for sale in a flea market.

As Antti goes through the postcards, letters, and films he was left with questions about the existence of a person who he didn’t know and yet, he now possesses his most intimate details of his relationship with his mother and sister though letters and postcards, and his life, dreams, and thoughts as he travelled the world as a sailor documenting everything in 8 mm films.

The surprising discovery opens the door to a lost world and leads the viewer to a journey around the world and even further with a forgotten adventurer, an old sailor. While seeking the person behind the films, the creator begins to wonder what will remain of us, when the results of decades of commitment end up in a garage sale. — Antti Seppänen

You can watch the full original documentary film here below for free on Vimeo. The film is in Finnish with English subtitles.

Antti wrote the screenplay and directed the documentary film that he titled Iceberg Shadow. In the film, he tells the story of Oiva, the sailor who documented his travels around the world.

The film was released on 3 September, 2009, in Finland. Iceberg Shadow was screened at international film festivals and has been awarded documentary film prizes.

In a way, Oiva Kovanen continues to travel the world up to this date.

Every time someone watches Iceberg Shadow his life and his adventures enter a new part of the world where he will be known and remembered.

Antti named his company Oiva Filmi as a way of paying tribute and remembering the sailor who inspired him and gave him so much despite being dead.

It’s curious how some old items carry some energy that attracts certain individuals and not others. It’s like some sort of magic. As if the items knew exactly who will make good use of them, rescuing them from a dusty shelf or forgotten box, bringing them back to life.