Across Portland, stand 18 different glowing, hand-painted vending machines.

Inside, there are no bags of Lay’s potato chips. You won’t find a single Snickers bar, either.

The Venderia is a different breed of mechanical purveyor of goods. During the week, you can find owner Taylor Valdés stocking her machines in bars, boutiques and even a hotel throughout the city.

It’s Valdés’ full-time job.

Valdés handcrafts one-third of the treasures inside the machines in her home garage studio. She paints vibrant hues of red, blue and green to form an eyeball on an eye patch. Another day she packages mini plastic animal figurines into brown baggies with “Find your inner animal” printed on the front. The small toy comes with a written note by Valdés, informing the customer of the energy related to the animal.

Another third of the items come from Valdés’ hunts at the Goodwill Outlet store.

Typically the store is so crowded that no shopping carts are left by the time she walks through the automatic sliding doors. So she grabs a rolling desk chair and fills it with finds from the bright blue bins.

Specifically, Valdés looks for used books and CDs that are just the right size to fit into her machines. On a good day, she’ll drop nearly $80 and walk out with her reusable bags filled. Maybe a children’s Japanese language book here, a Paula Abdul CD there and a paperback Vonnegut novel in between.

Valdés pairs up with hundreds of local artists to make up the remaining third of her vending machine products.

Inside the entryway at Psychic Sister, a mystical-themed boutique off of Alberta Street, shoppers are greeted by Valdés’ purple painted glowing box. Curious customers can browse dangly fluorescent-colored flower earrings by Lazuli Moon Jewelry, plantable wildflower seeds from Wokeface and much more.

“I really got into vending unintentionally,” Valdés said, “because when you see a $150 vending machine that works, it seems like a good idea.”

She bought her first machine from a laundromat going out of business and kept it in her garage for years, until it was time to move. Then, she had an epiphany.

“Let’s put it in a bar,” Valdés recalls thinking, “full of fun, weird stuff that people like.”

On June 1, 2013, The Venderia came to life after Valdés pitched the idea to her favorite local bar, Beulahland.

“I filled it with random stuff from my house and customers were into it,” Valdés said. “It just took off from there like it had a life of its own.”

Valdés grew her business, purchasing vending machines on the internet and later, from Smitty’s Vending Inc. in Portland.

Word spread about The Venderia. People like Advice Booth owners Mikael Laajala and Laura Cross made sure to write the machine into their business plan when buying their bar.

Laajala discovered The Venderia at Beulahland and fell in love. For birthday celebrations, she and her friends would go to purchase a “Find your inner animal” bag.

“It was a tradition in our group,” Laajala said, “just to see what your animal was for that year.”

When the pandemic hit in 2020, forcing bars to close for a period of time, Valdés was forced to pivot.

She found the time to formulate answers to questions of people from across the country and around the world who had reached out, in awe of her business.

So, she made a six-part online course for starting nontraditional vending. It covers where to buy machines, what to look for before purchasing, how to manage inventory, how to pitch to locations and more.

“It’s really growing a movement,” Valdés said, “and everyone puts their own spin on it.”

New nontraditional vending machine owners have popped up in St. Petersburg, Florida; Austin, Texas; Long Beach, California; Boise, Idaho; and Salt Lake City and more after taking the course.

“We’ve built a community of creative vending machine operators.” Valdés said. “I think that this model can be adapted to any setting.”

A typical day for Valdés starts with waking up, getting her daughter ready for school and drinking four to six cups of coffee. Then she heads into her home studio to package products, order items online and set up sourcing.

At noon she jumps into her Chevrolet Astro, “The Vanderia,” to restock her machines in the bars and boutiques around town. Then, she rushes home to be there when her daughter returns from school.

Rarely is Valdés able to see customers’ reactions to her vending machines.

“I have to hear about it from word of mouth,” she said.

That usually takes place while she spends her time restocking. Bars like Advice Booth have plenty of stories to share.

Cross recalls a man walking into the bar and gyrating against the vending machine. She asked if he was OK, then realized his date was on the patio cracking up laughing. Turns out, they were playing the truth or dare pack from The Venderia.

Those are the types of interactions that Valdés is looking to create with her colorful glowing box machines.

“I want to take people off their phones, off the internet and just be in that moment interacting with a physical thing and then later be like, ‘That was weird. That was a fun thing I saw today.’”