Scatterbrainy

Maybe it's the way it seems to go so counter to the society in which we exist, where everything is available to us, and so readily custom made. Maybe that's why nothing appears more precious to me than a really unexpected, quirky or random find at a flea market. There's also the complex essence of the discovery; it's not really an achievement, these treasures are purely luck, coincidences or the universe's winking at you, and yet you feel like you've earned it. You've trawled through all the flea markets just to get to this one handstuffed doll from Mali, or that weird (and certainly over-priced) frame filled with packages of various shades of orange sewing thread. You are both the luckiest one upon whom the sun shines, and the most ardent treasure hunter. 

 

I got my hands on a real gem this weekend. It caught my eye lying there among swaths of kitschy paraphernalia on a blanket spread out on the grounds of a monastery garden. Once every year this beautiful and formerly sacred place turns into a bustling flea market, with the 12th century monastery looking down fondly at the crowds bartering, chasing precious things like the Bernadine novices once used to search for God. Hunting for delight is a centuries-old pastime.

 

It was pencil box filled to the brim with what looked like randomely strung about pens and drawing tools. The inside of the box was covered in bright green felt, the color of pool tables everywhere. I asked the lady manning the stall 'How much for this, please?' and she eyed me, a little perplexed. 'What, the whole thing, pens and all?' she asked. 'Oh, I don't know about that', and she hastened to count the contents. I am sure she had a system, but I was but one of her many potential customers and she couldn't waste too mcuh time on me- who knew if I was even serious?- so she blurted out '15 euro!'. 

 

I hesitated for a second, I hadn't really inspected the contents myself. I just loved the idea of taking home this box full of things that someone else once thought belonged together. I once found a worn, wooden sewing box with all the stuff still inside, threads, needles - even a pair of miniature scissors. I don't even sew, but it was a real joy to make mine. 

 

So, I nodded happily to this Belgian lady and said I'd take it. A man to my side who had been observing the transaction exclaimed 'C'est une bonne affaire, ca!' and shook his head in disbelief. And that, right there, the perfect illustration of the double delight of a real flea market treasure: an absolutely haphazardly but masterfully executed deal.