There was a time when the Paris Flea Market had more than a bargain or two in store, but I am afraid that time is long gone. If you are looking for a treasure for next to nothing, I am afraid you’ll be disappointed. Having said that, if you are looking for an experience, attend you should.
A maze of stalls in varying degrees of deterioration, some with make shift roofs that are stained with water and threaten to collapse as you peer wide-eyed at the owner’s wares. Some stalls are so chock full they not only spill out into the twisting and turning pathways, but there is nary a sliver of space for you to enter, let alone attempt to purchase a pin, or a soldier, or a carefully curated piece of silver. Those stalls I leave for the braver of heart than me.
This time the famed Marche may have gotten the best of me. The smaller, easier to transport items were no bargain at all, those that were larger, including furnishings were a relative steal, but they require shipping crates, and customs clearances, long delays, and often broken items at the hands of officials, who I envision tossing Louis VI Bergeres around the container like a ball at the playground. Naturally, they aren’t very good, and Louis’ old bones are no contest for their less than skilled antics. Your wallet will take a beating too, not to mention your heart. So I left with none of the beauties I saw while I was there. Someone from their homeland should adopt them, at least until I can find a carrier that’s assembled a winning team.
I had fun none-the-less. I laughed at the 100 Euro picnic basket, it was cute but…please. I adored a mirror comprised of a dozen or more rounded mirrors – so cool – but too big for my ginormous suitcase. Fell in love with a one of a kind cane backed chair that I suggested to Tiffany I could break off the seat and the legs and shadowbox frame the back in lucite and mount to the walls – she said she’d break my legs if I did any such thing to a one of a kind beauty like that.
Tiff investigating the wares. Oh how I wanted that table.
I did pick up a print or two, and least you think I didn’t have a ball – let me set the record straight. I could pass the time, all day, any day, in the markets. It is a fascinating place to be, full of inspiration, fascinating people, and the possibility – always of an adventure.