Curiouser and Curiouser: A Trip to the Flea Market

Franck (fraaanhk) is a good friend of mine from last year at Brown. He was a visiting scholar for a semester and currently teaches at Université de Paris VIII--Vincennes-Saint-Denis, one of the universities I'm attending. After being introduced in Providence by our mutual friend, Clémentine (she and I lived in the same building when we first got to Brown...you could say, "she's from my hall!"), Franck and I discovered that, while not immediately apparent, we were actually twin brothers separated at birth. This is due to the plain fact that we have the same brain and we're only 3 days apart in age. Apologies to our cosmic mother for not having synchronized a bit better...
Bad inside-jokes aside, he called me the other day, and we decided to go to the marché aux puces, the flea market, at Porte de Clignancourt, one of the northern most points in Paris and the final stop on one of my métro lines (line 4, the pink one on the map).

The things I saw there, I have never before seen in my life! Franck, man with a sharp eye and an even keener wit, called the marché an "open museum," because it's free and full of fascinating things. I even thought the people sifting through such items as card catalogs filled with hundreds of beautiful--but used--postcards from the 1970s and 80s were nothing short of exhibitions themselves!

Who would buy/sell such a thing? and why so many? and is THAT where all my post cards will end-up one day?? Oh, the rate at which my mind was spinning. "Very broke/charming...and creepy!" I thought. As you can see on your right, the vendors weren't bad either.
They had a strange way of incarnating the wares they were trying to sell and bringing to life their stagnant, Seconde Empire shops-turned-salons. 

One mannequin wearing a large fur coat even came to life, blinked at me, and then laughed with me as I realized that she was a stall owner all along. For yours truly, the marché aux puces could very well have been called a marché aux muses.




Here are many other curiosities to enjoy:

Orientalism in its natural habitat, the flea markets of Paris.

One of the buildings housing one of the aisles of the flea market. Used postcards are second floor to the right.

Speaking of postcards, how 'bout an old fish poster for 165€ ??

Ikea would envy the multiple functions AND flat-storage capability of this XIXth century beauty!

Finally. Petticoats when you need them. "I'll take one in each color, s'il vous plait."

Glass slide for a plate camera??

EVERYTHING MUST GO!

Franck's foot in a funky mirror. Along with many XIX century pieces, mid-century was also quite popular.

Spring forward, or else!

Great color!

No, those aren't built-in coasters. They're beautifully-detailed, porcelain plates!

Uhh...

and, uhh...

but oooh...silver world. (btw, I have that last, 3-part thought sequence quite often in France.)

If the key fits...(p.s. this photo is one of my favorites)

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Time to lounge on my chaise.

Mysterious Easter egg alley.

"Men and Monkeys." Wonder what the French have to say on that one...

Mysterious alley #2.

These were much more colorful than my iPhone lets on.

Sorry to make you turn your head, but here's a close-up of another lovely, uh, box of butterflies.

Of course. (AND she had nice feet!)

Speaking of nice feet, check out the...shoes on this one!

And speaking of shoes...

And "speaking of le ballet"...

"The Little Mermaid"

"101 Dalmatians"

Now, we're at, what Franck calls, the "Hood Market." It's right next to the other flea market but, predictably, with an entirely different crowd and array of offerings. Not far from this torpedo (?), Franck and I had some good crêpes.

Hood Market box of junk #1: used remote controls with neither backs nor batteries.

Hood Market box of junk #2: more overpriced buttons than one could ever either want or afford.

Hood Market box of junk #3: the grand finale, burned-out vacuum tubes. A must-have for, well, everyone!

The last picture was not taken at the flea market, or even the Hood Market, for that matter, but one block away from my apartment. It's a flower shop on a little street that I can access by walking through Le Passage du Grand-Cerf:

It's as close to a secret passage way as I've ever really gotten, and it's in my building! Anyway, here's the photo with which I'll leave you. Ivy (my iPhone who is moonlighting as an iTouch while in France) didn't really do it justice this time around, but I'll try again, maybe even at night. In any case, stopping in my tracks with my eyes wide and my jaw ajar because of this beautiful and no-cost window display, well, might just be the most broke/charming moment I've ever had.