Two small flowers carved at the top of a chair, they sat comfortably admiring the view and listening to those who sat next to them.
After several months away from France and the brocante (antique markets) I ventured out yesterday. I didn't buy a thing, though I gained more. The details, the history, culture, the familiarity, the language of making a deal, antiques after antique with stories held, shared, created…. it felt good just to be there soaking it all in. A constant smile was mine.
The hands that tied those knots to these pearls, or who carved that tray… or what relic was placed inside that locket? Did these objects come from the same owner?
I walked around in a happy daze, from one stand to another. Chatting along the way, looking at things with new eyes of wonder. Comparing them to what I saw back home in California, converting Euro into dollars, then realizing I didn't need to do that…. nevertheless realizing how French things are expensive given the state of the dollar.
A pair of pink silk thread tassels with varied styles of lacing creating interesting patterns.
Again I was drawn to the imperfections of old things. How worn objects have a beauty I admire. It reminded me that growing old is such a good gift to desire, and how I shouldn'tbe worried about trivial blemishes of my age.
An angel motif on an iron fireplace reflector.
French antiques are rich in details, they have a strong sense of proportions, marrying well with other items and periods…. gee don't I make a good saleswoman?
While at the brocante I saw a book dated 1820, a leather prayer book, well worn, stuffed with prayer cards and dried flowers. A sweet treasure chest of someone's hopes and prayers said. The book had several hand-painted ribbons attached on top by a silver pin. The ribbons were used as page-markers. The price though fair was more than I wanted to pay. I asked the dealer if I could buy the ribbons only.
He shook his head in disbelief, "No, the ribbons go with the book. Buying the ribbons without the book is like cutting something in half. You wouldn't want to do that would you?"
I blinked and thought was someone trying to tell me something? I said, "I have done that before and it wasn't so bad. Though I understand what you mean."
Six dishes probably from a set of twelve… I wonder if it had cups and saucers and bowls to match? I wonder if some pickle like me broke the set years ago? Maybe the woman who had the prayer book with the hand-painted ribbons did?
A hand carved wooden flame, with faded bits of paint and many little bug holes.
A weathered top of a wooden bench.
An urn with a leaf motif wrapped around it.
A brown transfer-ware plate.
By the end of the day I was full of ideas and new projects. I couldn't wait to go home and jump into them… just then a Harley rode by with its very familiar sound…. I thought of my dad… I am certain in someway it was him smiling at me.
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