What I learned at the flea market.
My mom has a bookstore at a flea market. She’s been building her business there from a few tables in a stall to a full-out, serious booklover paradise. I spent a lot of time there, as I was not to be trusted on my own (at least until teenage years, which, ironically, should have been the least trusted) and I was free labor.
I don’t go out there anymore as much as I should, but I did meet up with some friends out there today.
Flea markets are magical.
I didn’t buy anything except for a few beers and a pair of men’s underwear that are far better utilized as around-the-house booty shorts (they have MEN written on the waistband in case there’s any confusion). We had a lovely time in the most random “dollar store” ever, featuring a vast array of items including stress reliever balls shaped like boobs. I suppose there’s a market for that if you don’t have your own. Personally, I’ve never used my own that way, but maybe I’m missing out.
Aside from the girl time and fulfilling the real reasons we were there (to get plants for my friend, visiting my dear mother and checking out/giving the DIRTIEST LOOKS EVER to her competition), I made some observations based on the merchandise offered as well.
- People who go to the flea market like cats. The majority of cat items were knick-knacky figurines, but there were also offerings of t-shirts and car magnets with horribly distorted illustrations.
- Cat people only like knick-knacky figurines, cat t-shirts and car magnets with horribly distorted illustrations but don’t need any actual products for their cat. Although there were a bazillion places with dog and bird (really? birds?) supplies, there was only one place with dubious-looking Temptations cat treats.
- People who go to the flea market like beer. This includes me. Beer made the heat bearable. The majority of the 21+ population walking around had a beer in hand. Sorry to my friends who do not normally imbibe such a pedestrian beer as Bud Light, but that’s like my heaven. Good sports, you girls are!
- Flea market vendors are too pushy. This does not include my mother, oddly enough. No sir, I do not want to buy your fake Versace necklace that’s “discounted” 85% down to $25. I only pointed it out to my friends to laugh about. And that thing I said about it being too big for my tastes? That was supposed to be a nice way of me saying “I’d never buy that” – not an opening for you to offer up a smaller version.
- You will find things you didn’t know you needed, both at prices that are laughably large (the WORST drawing of a Bucs’ helmet I’ve ever seen, signed by every member of one of the worst Bucs teams ever to play…not sure of the year but I know it was bad because I spotted Vinny Testeverde’s autograph on it…for $500) and so cheap you’d be a FOOL not to buy them.
I made some other observations, but they’re probably pretty rude. Anyway, I had a good time plus I remembered how much I love the flea market and although I didn’t bring my mom any business, I felt supportive and good-daughtery, and what’s better than that?