Remi wrapped his arm around my shoulder, we picked up the pace and shuddered in unison. That Mistral wind! Always arriving precisely when it is most unwelcome. So it was on a Sunday morning in December. But the sun was gorgeous as it always is on such windswept days and for once, I had prepared, wrapping myself in layers of cashmere with gloves and a bonnet in my pocket plus fly-sized glasses to keep my eyes from tearing. I had to keep my focus. For yet again, we were on the hunt.
Of course, we didn’t actually need a thing from the brocante or flea-market at St. Etienne du Grès. But it has always been about the Art of Looking for us. The prick of possibility. From those very first weeks together in Vanves on the outskirts of Paris, we would walk the puces every weekend, sometimes on both Saturday and Sunday. It was our antiques education, not to mention free entertainment. We didn’t yet have a spare dime between us, so despite our empty apartment (I had only brought an Icart print and many pairs of heels with me from NYC), we simply asked questions of the dealers and compared likes and dislikes over a scrambled brunch upon returning home.
The Mistral whipped Remi and I off into our own individual orbits. Which was just fine as we were both too busy storing up little bits of lost history and found inspiration to be good company. Pushed forward by the wind, I rolled through aisle after aisle, past the sellers lunching on saucisson and warming wine, while mentally sifting the junk from the jewels at each stand. And somehow, just that walking while looking outwards with a soft gaze, always tends to do the same for me mentally. Stuck staring, I wondered with my head tilted just so and responded to each dealer’s enquiring eyes with a nod that was curt but kind. “No, sorry but no.” As always, I was searching without really knowing what I was looking for and perhaps that is another reason why such flea market strolls are so comforting. Anonymous, right in the thick of the crowds, we all are.
I finished first as I often do, impatient red-head that I am. But then again, it just might be that I like that moment of turning back to search for Remi’s face, that familiar face, to catch him unaware with weighty eyes. Slowly, I reeled myself in towards him until that arm was replaced wordlessly, shoulder-round. We didn’t end up buying anything as we knew we probably wouldn’t and turned to leave as the dealers started to close up shop – repacking their wares carefully and with a hint of accustomed disappointment – all of us waiting for a “Yes, thank you, I’ll take it,” possibly at the next brocante.
A boutis or typically Provençal antique quilt. They are getting harder to find…
Rusty ponies, anyone?
Vintage santons and saints for a Provençal crèche…
What do we think? An olive or grape press?
And for my friend La Contessa of Hen House…
Did you see anything that tempted you?
Sending my very Best from a tiny village in the South of France,
Heather
And Brooke, this was NOTHING compared to the deballages that I have told you about. How I would love to get you over here for you to get your "fix"! 😉
Hello Heather,
Gosh, such willpower! We should not have been able to resist a little something from these eclectic treasures.
Your photographs are quite haunting. As one scrolls through one cannot help but have the mind wander to the provenance of these items. What memories and tiny scraps of history they hold. What stories they could tell if only they could speak.
A BOUTIS……………..I WANT THAT ONE!The black with the roses!!!How much about do they sell for?THat was EXTRA pretty! My guess would be an olive press!!!THEN A CHICKEN for MOI!!!!!!!!!How apropos as today I posted about RETIRING the VINTAGE HEN HOUSE BLOG NAME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!SO< happy you thought about ME at the FLEA…………..but what did you find?SOME Little object I hope!XOXO
The piles of linens caught my eye. They are beautiful and so popular now that I wonder how there can be any of them left. I'm not much of a shopper, but looking at all these items I would wonder about the stories each one could tell.
A great way to spend free time together.
I'm actually intrigued by the tri-fold mirror in the first photo. The ponies are interesting, but one would need a bigger house than mine for them. The embroidered linens are wonderful, the faded shutters…the chair with some old book titles. But then again, I have just been going through a clutter clearing purge since Christmas and am intending moving through the house into other rooms. I feel so very virtuous and FREE after doing it. (Using La Contessa'a capitalisation) that I might turn around after the flea market visit and be satisfied with just the looking too!
Cheers,
Deborah C
Yes, I did! The rusty horses among some others. The hunt is really the thing, isn't it? But then, the thrill of a small find is wonderful, too. I'm actually a bit 'brocante starved' at the moment, but it is my favorite pasttime in summer and fall. Aren't we lucky to be here! Lovely post, Heather. I felt every feeling you described – even if we do not, mercifully, have to put up with mistral ici en La Charente. <3
I like the door knocker. You have a much better attitude toward flee markets. i go expecting that there is something that I will like and then I'm usually disappointed. I think I need to other markets than the local ones. Happy Mistral 🙁
Judy
Heather .. Lucky Woman .. just to be there, with the possibilty of hauling some newfound treasure home .. in France .. in La Mistral .. Lucky Woman!
Aloha,
Bill Facker
http://www.kauai-to-paris.com
Oooh – I like the pictures! And the teddy bear in the chair. And why not a rusty pony? (except that it would probably scare Ben and Kipling). Yes, a few items told me we were in France – the the grape/olive press and the linens – so fancy! This also made me think about the discovery that our old house is now a bed and breakfast, and the pictures of all of the antiques in it! We also grew up around antiques, so that's maybe why your are drawn to them. It does look wintery there, but it sounds like a lovely afternoon with your sweetie – thank you for sharing it with us!
You are killing me!
The flea markets here have gotten so meh…
I feel like a brocante addict desperate for a good flea market shopping high!
Shopping with you is the next best thing.
Thank you for taking us along with you!
xo xo
Brooke