Cafe au lait bowls use to be as easy to find as a Cafe in France. They cost less than a coffee too. At one point I had nearly one hundred cafe au lait bowls stacked a mile high on the chimney mantle. Then I sold them and the buying/selling bug bite me and I have never been the same.
Religious artifacts, tokens, holy pieces, angels, rosaries… my monastery days seem to direct me to these sorts of things. I am drawn to them like a nun on prayer. I kneel down and dig through a pile of holy church stuff every chance I get. But like cafe au lait bowls they became fashionable and when that happens prices march straight up. I find myself praying, "Oh please let it be cheap…." I imagine God shaking his head at me. Bartering I learned as a child… that is one of the first steps to praying, "Please God if you let me have ____, I promise to _________."
Prayer taught me the secret to bartering. It is a good trick to have in one's pocket when at the brocante.
French antique jewelry. Charms and tokens, baby jewelry, keepsakes, trinkets…
An endless fascination that has helped me learn to speak French:
Combien?
Votre meilleur prix?
Entre nous..
En especes,
Trop cher.
Game pieces, incomplete sets of dominoes, decks of cards, chess… jetons or in English game tokens, die… eye candy delicious in my brocante book.
Pharmacy boxes with French script. This little box made my eyes pop out…do you see why?
Menthol, Borate et Cocaine.
Holy cow… it says underneath that these pills (pastilles) were used: To prevent a sore throat.
I use to tie old ribbons like this on Chelsea's head. You see she had no hair until she was nearly three, and then it was only to her ears when she was five. I wanted her to look like a girl so I tied ribbons on her head.
I think people stared at Chelsea not because she was nearly bald, but because the odd ribbons were not pink satin cute things and of course she was such a cutie pie.
I think know they thought I was nuts.
The French mothers at the school use to tell me, "Shave your daughter's head when there is a full moon. Your daughter's hair will grow faster if you cut it during a full moon."
I thought they were crazy…. not because cutting one's hair during a full moon might make it grow faster. But because she had little hair to begin with…. shaving it was not an option! I had cancer and going (nearly) bald was not fun.
As you can see I am a practical shopper, and I know where to tie the real pretty ribbons, it is a knack in which I have tons. Certainly it has been said by many brocanteurs, "Here comes that crazy American who buys junk."
Ah such compliments I live with!
French Husband knows I am quirky. I bought these nineteen century candles that were used as lights when cars were first made. The other day he took some to light for our table at dinner.
"No no no," I tisked, "They are not to use… they are old car candles. They are just for decoration."
He shrugged, "Old is gold. Practical doesn't live here does it?"
He loves me and that is a good thing. And hey before you start siding with him and calling my hobby something like: not practical…. remember French Husband's hobbies are life threatening.
I remind him when he gets on his high horse– "Hey, you get a thrill on danger, I get a thrill on junk."
(A blog reader made this photo essay of photos she found on my blog for me.)
Oh happy-lovely-delicious-weekend-habit of mine it is better than those pastilles with cocaine or jumping off a cliff, don't you think?
What is your favorite hobby?
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