Flea Markets and what you find there...

I think it's the lady in the Goofy hat that keeps me coming back to flea markets.  Not goofy as in silly, but Goofy as in the Disney character.  She pulls a shopping cart behind her loaded, and I mean LOADED, with treasures from Star Wars, kitchens and garages.  She shows me her last purchase of the day.  She spent 45 cents for a pottery goblet with a bearded face etched on the side.  It's definitely a bargain in her eyes.  As she walks away trailing the shopping cart behind her, I realize yes, this woman is a regular of the flea market set and I know I'll see her next year.

Once a year my friend and I would clean out our garages and closets and cart our junk down to the flea market at the local fairgrounds, rent a space for $8.00 and make a little extra money by selling odds & ends no longer wanted or needed.  Our junk is treasure to other people.  Perhaps treasure is over doing it a bit but when I see someone eagerly buying up all of the shrimp cocktail glasses for their collection or a teapot who's lid is stuck and cannot be removed, I wonder.

We see the regular people every year.  Charlie, who is 70 years old, sells wicker pet baskets and bicycles that he's dug out of junk yards and repaired & painted.  His space is always next to ours.  Then there's Marion who works at a school cafeteria and brings her wooden produce crates, baking powder tins and discarded utensils to sell.  Always there is Uncle Georgie, an elderly Italian gentleman who brings anything and everything to sell.  A 'you name it, I got it' kind of guy.  There are always regular vendors but there are always regular buyers too.

There's the smiling antiques/junk dealer with the pencil thin mustache who buys portable TVs that don't work and belt buckles that say FRED on the front.  We see him the first thing in the morning and at the end of the day when we're packing up.  He waves to us as he whizzes by toward his car for the 40th time that day to stash another find.  Then there's the middle aged couple who always manage to pick up something 'darling' for their country home.

Once I had a small sun ornament ala stained glass style, that I was selling for a quarter.  A woman picked it up, looked it over for about 5 minutes and asked if I would take a dime for it.  For some reason that irked me and so I said "No, it's 25 cents."  She put it down and walked away and I just shook my head in wonder.

Another time I had a shoebox full of costume jewelry to sell.  We watched two little girls go through all of it and for a couple of dollars, bought lots of jewels for dress-up.  We could tell they were enjoying themselves and as they left our table with their mother, we heard them say, "That was a fun stop, huh Mom?"

 

There are always people who consider themselves professional collectors and know it all.  One woman told me my balsa wood box (which I had bought at a dollar store and stenciled myself) was really very old and valuable and recommend I not sell it.  Later on I did sell it.....for 50 cents.

I firmly believe husbands and wives should not shop together at a flea market.  They can arrive together and they can leave together but they should not shop together!  Invariably one always talks the other out of buying something at my table.  When I've just about convinced a man why he should buy some paint brushes from me, his wife waves her hand and says "Oh you don't need any of those."  She moves on and he shrugs his shoulders and follows her.  A woman was interested in a bag of old corsages made of artificial flowers (don't ask).  He makes her feel silly and she drops the bag and keeps going.  It never fails!  One always talks the other out of spending a dollar or two at my table.

I've found that people are basically honest and trusting at flea markets.  Many times people will pay cash for something and ask to leave it at our table until they finish their rounds.  No name is left, no receipt is written.  It is understood that the buyer will return and the seller will keep that item aside for them.

 

Vendors watch out for each other.  Many times our neighbors will ask us to watch their table while they make a run to the refreshment stand or rest room.  I actually pray that everything on their table is priced and no on wants to haggle.  Of course, everyone haggles but fortunately, I've never had a problem at my neighbor's table.  

One year we saw a young man walking from booth to booth taking pictures of people, usually vendors.  As he points his camera at my friend she says to him very sweetly, "Take my picture and you die!"  We are not exactly dressed in our very best finery if you know what I mean.  Anyway, he gets the idea right away from her and turns his camera towards me.  I don't care if he takes my picture.  Heck, maybe I'll end up in a coffee table book about flea markets!  

I've often thought that the flea market would be a great place to bring a camera and get some pictures of real characters.  That's probably what this guy thought.  Hey.....wait a minute.  He took my picture.  Did he consider ME a character just because I'm wearing a pith helmet, sunglasses and a yellow t-shirt that says "How's your Aspen" in red?  Surely I"m not 'character' material.  I just clean out my garage once a year.  The pith helmet keeps me cool in the hot sun.  Well, it does.

 

 

 

A couple of hours later, a man walks up and hands me a small plastic cylinder with a key chain attached.  "Wanna see something?" he asks.  I immediately think it's something obscene but look through the hole anyway thinking this place sure has its share of weirdoes.  As I look through this cylinder, I see a picture of myself in my pith helmet.  Suddenly, I realize this is the same young man who took my picture earlier.  Then he offers to sell it to me for $4.00.  Is he kidding??  I've been here for 7 hours and made $24.00.  I should spend $4.00 of it to keep him in business?  As I hand him the cash, its then I realize my friend and I are part of the regular crowd, and yes, maybe even flea market characters ourselves.  What fun!