Garage Sales

Hoping to earn some extra money to pay her mounting bills, Francesca Nichols posted an ad on Craigslist: "Giant Yard Sale -- Everything Must Go!" So at 5:30 a.m. last Saturday morning, she and her husband filled their Valencia driveway with purchases made during better times: a wooden dresser, top-of-the-line child car seats, a hand-painted mirror and piles of expensive clothes. Two hours later, Nichols waved a wad of bills and smiled. "Wow, honey," she said to her husband.

If you're willing to wade through the remnants of another person's life, you can find bargains at an estate sale. You just may have to knock a dealer out of the way to get to them. ? Antique sellers, book collectors and EBay users show up to these events early. Often they're armed, with magnifying loupes to scrutinize figurines, research books on vintage furniture or an iPhone to check price comparisons. ? The professionals are looking for the same things you are: deals.

RICK NORSIGIAN discovered the object of his obsession one sunny Saturday seven years ago at a garage sale. A painter for the Fresno school district by day and inveterate antique buff the rest of his waking hours, Norsigian was combing through suburban castoffs when he came across a time-weathered wooden box. The crate was heavy with old glass-plate photographic negatives.

After surveying the yard of design writer Ruth Handel's Gregory Ain-designed house in Mar Vista, it was clear that this was no ordinary garage sale for dormant Nordic Tracks and obsolete Epsons. Instead, on an early fall afternoon, Handel and her friend, performance artist Johanna Went, were hawking their stashes of Noritake dinnerware, Bauer pottery and Armani suits.

Only in Hollywood can a yard sale for a minor celebrity escalate into a hyperventilated national entertainment event. That's what happened this weekend at the rented home of actors Tori Spelling and Dean McDermott off Mulholland Drive in Studio City. Blowing out the past to make a fresh start, the newlyweds opened their house to all comers and offered their possessions for sale Friday and Saturday.

No longer able to take out a second mortgage, many Americans are finding another way to squeeze equity out of their home: selling the junk in it. Garage sales, yard sales, tag sales -- no matter what you call them, such exercises in do-it-yourself retailing have long been a popular way for people to clear out unwanted items around the house.

Cash-strapped former "Eight Is Enough" and "Charles in Charge" star Willie Aames is selling off his belongings in suburban Kansas City, Kan. Dozens showed up at a garage sale at his home Thursday, where Aames made deals with bargain hunters and signed autographs. Items on sale included antiques, artwork, a piano, deer head mounts and TV and movie memorabilia. A production crew filmed the sale for a TV show. The 48-year-old Aames has fallen upon hard times. He filed for bankruptcy last year and his home is in foreclosure.

Re: "More people are selling possessions to raise cash. Here's how to avoid the pitfalls," May 10: I was very surprised when reading Andrea Chang's two articles about garage sales that both of them failed to mention reviewing the yard sale regulations of your local city. Almost all cities in Los Angeles and Orange counties have specific regulations regarding the number of allowed days per year, what can be sold, use of the sidewalk, placement of signs (if allowed at all) and especially obtaining a permit.

The paean to Huell Howser ["The Awe of Huell Howser," July 26] seems heartfelt but is laughable when confronted with what he actually presents. I confess I've never been able to watch much of his shows, since I find his manner insufferably homespun and his subjects generally boring as dirt. There's a place for celebrating the wonders of the simple and the local, finding a kind of Zen epiphany in the everyday. I have no doubt there are many fascinating stories out there, and the right personality or style in an inquiring mind could present them effectively.

For 450 miles along a narrow strip of highway, observe the extended family of the yard sale enthusiast: the sly, syrupy antiques dealer; the poker-faced local, seller of screen doors and arrowheads; the hipster in tinted sunglasses; the middle-aged woman, feverish, with husband and tote bag. When a county executive in Jamestown, Tenn., announced his idea for attracting visitors to this isolated country, it was an act of faith.