Parisian purchases aux marchés aux puces
Le 9 juin
Today I would leave Citadines for an Airbnb in the 13th arrondissment and prepare for Claire’s arrival in Paris the following day.
But first, I had plans to head to the marché aux puces de Vanves. I have heard of the famous Paris flea markets many times and I even ventured to a semblance of one when I studied in France in 2007. From what I remember, my roommates and I arrived very late on a Sunday to the Saint Ouen flea market when most of the stalls had already closed, missing our chance at a thorough Paris flea market experience. Even so, I was able to bargain with one vendor and I still have a beautiful over-sized ring with a faux white stone that I bought from the market that year.
This year, I wanted to make sure that I had plenty of time to purvey all of the flea market stands and options. I researched the marchés aux puces near me, and found the one in Vanves. I jumped on the metro and knew I was getting closer when I saw other people getting on the train with folding shopping carts to haul away their purchases. I followed these same people to the beginning of the flea market, which appeared to stretch down one street on both sides and then down another. Some people even brought empty, large roller suitcases with the intention of filling them and flying them back home! (Maybe I’ll use that strategy next time.) A dead giveaway that I was in French flea market territory was the ubiquitous presence of boxy white vans that many vendors use to store their pieces until the following weekend.
Like all flea markets that I have been to, the first stands tend to be very expensive, the rationale being that eager first-time flea marketers will pay the outrageous prices rather than going farther into the market to find a better deal. I am sure this prime location is coveted by the vendors themselves.
I am a sucker for original artwork and I have never seen so many signed pieces at a flea market. One of the coolest things I encountered that day was a Jean Paul Gaultier signed sketch of a perfume bottle for one of his fragrances. The woman would have sold it to me for 30 euros, but by that time of the day, I was quite out of cash.
I left the flea with a set of six dinner knives with an “en acier” stamp, a framed hand-painted Catholic artwork with Byzantine figures, 6 white cloth napkins, a linen dish towel with initials stitched in red thread, and an enamel figurine that looked like my future dog, Cecil.
I sorted through all of my new-old finds after arriving at our charming Airbnb where we would stay for the next week. I laid everything out on the white bedspread and then marveled at the view from my bedroom over the garden terrace. I was relieved to see a washing machine in our kitchen and quickly did a load of wash, hanging my damp vetêments on the European rotary clothes line next to the refrigerator. I opened the floor-length window to let the warm air dry my cottons. The food in the cupboard gave homage to the North-African vibe of our quartier with its contents of chickpeas, rice, couscous, and spices such as cardamom, cumin, and ginger root.
I went to a small shop nearby, bought some simple ingredients for a salad and curry, and made it back just in time to see the rain begin to pitter patter onto the gardens outside of the apartment’s windows.
Claire arrive demain!
Alana
Today I would leave Citadines for an Airbnb in the 13th arrondissment and prepare for Claire’s arrival in Paris the following day.
But first, I had plans to head to the marché aux puces de Vanves. I have heard of the famous Paris flea markets many times and I even ventured to a semblance of one when I studied in France in 2007. From what I remember, my roommates and I arrived very late on a Sunday to the Saint Ouen flea market when most of the stalls had already closed, missing our chance at a thorough Paris flea market experience. Even so, I was able to bargain with one vendor and I still have a beautiful over-sized ring with a faux white stone that I bought from the market that year.
This year, I wanted to make sure that I had plenty of time to purvey all of the flea market stands and options. I researched the marchés aux puces near me, and found the one in Vanves. I jumped on the metro and knew I was getting closer when I saw other people getting on the train with folding shopping carts to haul away their purchases. I followed these same people to the beginning of the flea market, which appeared to stretch down one street on both sides and then down another. Some people even brought empty, large roller suitcases with the intention of filling them and flying them back home! (Maybe I’ll use that strategy next time.) A dead giveaway that I was in French flea market territory was the ubiquitous presence of boxy white vans that many vendors use to store their pieces until the following weekend.
Like all flea markets that I have been to, the first stands tend to be very expensive, the rationale being that eager first-time flea marketers will pay the outrageous prices rather than going farther into the market to find a better deal. I am sure this prime location is coveted by the vendors themselves.
I am a sucker for original artwork and I have never seen so many signed pieces at a flea market. One of the coolest things I encountered that day was a Jean Paul Gaultier signed sketch of a perfume bottle for one of his fragrances. The woman would have sold it to me for 30 euros, but by that time of the day, I was quite out of cash.
I left the flea with a set of six dinner knives with an “en acier” stamp, a framed hand-painted Catholic artwork with Byzantine figures, 6 white cloth napkins, a linen dish towel with initials stitched in red thread, and an enamel figurine that looked like my future dog, Cecil.
I sorted through all of my new-old finds after arriving at our charming Airbnb where we would stay for the next week. I laid everything out on the white bedspread and then marveled at the view from my bedroom over the garden terrace. I was relieved to see a washing machine in our kitchen and quickly did a load of wash, hanging my damp vetêments on the European rotary clothes line next to the refrigerator. I opened the floor-length window to let the warm air dry my cottons. The food in the cupboard gave homage to the North-African vibe of our quartier with its contents of chickpeas, rice, couscous, and spices such as cardamom, cumin, and ginger root.
I went to a small shop nearby, bought some simple ingredients for a salad and curry, and made it back just in time to see the rain begin to pitter patter onto the gardens outside of the apartment’s windows.
Claire arrive demain!
Alana
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