Eye For A Bargain

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I have a confession to make. I have a passion for all things vintage. Well, nearly all things. Furniture – yes; crockery, chinaware, silverware and glassware – yes; clothes – very definitely yes. Not to mention a sub-passion, if you like, for gilt-edged mirrors and elaborate chandeliers. Consequently, I love nothing more than spending a weekend rummaging around a French flea market.

Wherever you are in France, it is not hard to find a huddle of sellers, displaying their often-random wares to the strains of an accordionist or crackly Charles Trenet records while a bunch of like-minded souls sift their way through the goods in search of a bargain.

Over the years, I have unearthed a Pompadour-style display case that still garners compliments from friends, a spectacular soleil mirror, some gorgeous picture-sleeve EPs by Françoise Hardy, and a 1920s velvet opera coat.

Unlike in Britain, where the announcement that you are heading to a car-boot sale can still sometimes be greeted with disdain, over the Channel, it is considered a standard pursuit.

The flea market in France has more the caché of an antiques market, mixed in with a little rough-and-ready sawdust and the thrill of a Sunday at the races. You never know, there is always the chance of unearthing some rarefied gem at a knock-down price. It happened to a British couple who bought a spider plant at a car-boot sale for a pound, only to discover the plain-looking planter it had come in was a rare piece of Lalique crystal worth around £20,000.

The French have always had an eye for a brocante, with some, like Lille’s legendary braderie, dating from the Middle Ages. The name