Flea Market Finds and the August Paris Letter

This Paris Letter is all about Paris flea markets. The atlas shown above is a flea market find. Inside there are secret notes: "Peggy loves Ray" scratched out to say "Peggy loves Lenny" scratched out to say "Peggy loves Pete." I wonder if she ended up with Pete, and if so, did the romance last as long as the atlas. To get yourself a Paris Letter, head over to the shop.In my research for this letter... I came across a few flea market treasures.This lady's portrait was for sale in a frame AND on matches. Remember those days?Keys and key chains. Somehow I think the big keys on the left did not originally go with the key chains on the right.Books books books. Always a lot of books at these Paris flea markets. Sadly most of them are in French, but I still dig around for something with pretty pictures that I can gaze at lovingly later.This is also how I look when I'm at a flea market:Prowling around looking for something je ne sais quoi. If you look closely, there are two mini elephants on a mini pillow. What? Why? WHY does this happen?Feathers. Always plenty of feathers at a Paris flea market. To Moulin-Rouge your slinky outfits.Normally, I don't post the content of the Paris Letters, but if you've made it this far... all the way through that little flea market tour, perhaps you'd like to read more.Dear Aine,I love a Paris flea market. It's an outdoor museum of the culture. In Paris flea markets, you'll always find ornate cutlery, feathers, and books. You will also, inevitably, come across a booth that is absolutely 100% off the mark. And that booth is usually filled with Buddha statues. I imagine the hierarchy of steps that led to the creation of this booth. First, our salesman travels abroad and falls in love with the local souvenir. In Paris, this is the Eiffel Tower keychain until you see it everywhere. Then the spell is broken and you buy yourself a scarf instead. But our salesman falls in love with the Buddha statues, and the low price, especially when converting into Euros. He fills his bags and dreams of the profits to be had in Paris. He invests in his table, tent, and permit; small expenses when he's already mentally rolling in dough. Locals have NO IDEA how cheap these Buddha statues are in the foreign land and currency. He sets out his wares and stands back, preparing for the buzz. Instead, he gets silence and bored glances by passersby who can't even be bothered to step inside the booth. Next door is a vintage sunglasses salesman who doesn't even need to haggle. People are lapping up his offerings, giggling int he wee mirrors he has slapped up around his booth. A selfie station. It dawns on our entrepreneurial salesman that he has committed a pricey faux pas. - JaniceOn the back of my Paris Letters, I usually include a quote from some literary text that relates somehow. I think of it as a bow. A nice little "ahhhh" after reading the letter. A literary P.S. if you will. This one is from Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman, which is a completely wonderful book."I imagine a hierarchy of happiness; first purchased in the 1970s, a couple would sit here, dining on meals cooked from brand-new recipe books, eating and drinking from wedding china like proper grown-ups. They’d move to the suburbs after a couple of years; the table, too small to accommodate their growing family, passes on to a cousin newly graduated and furnishing his first flat on a budget. After a few years, he moves in with his partner and rents the place out. For a decade, tenants eat here, a whole procession of them, young people mainly, sad and happy, sometimes alone, sometimes with friends, lovers. They’d serve fast food here to fill a gap, or five stylish courses to seduce, carbohydrates before a run and chocolate pudding for broken hearts. Eventually, the cousin sells up and the house clearance people take the table away. It languishes in a warehouse, spiders spinning silk inside its unfashionable rounded corners, bluebottles laying eggs in the rough splinters. It’s given to another charity. They gave it to me, unloved, unwanted, irreparably damaged. Also the table."If you would like this letter addressed and mailed to you, visit my shop. It also makes a great gift for flea marketing friends.