Photos and text by: Corey Amaro
Five bloggers from Kansas came to the brocante. French Husband was our chauffeur to the fair in Villeneuve Lès Avignon.
No sooner had we arrived, the five bloggers were drooling, and oohing, and could hardly contain themselves. They jumped out of the van in record speed, darting every which way. Each returned hours later with bags full of good finds.
I rode home in the trunk, the van was extra full.
Five girls (Sharon, Amy, Pat, Susanna, and Niki) who have a love affair with old and beautiful: Linens, lace, textiles, medals, perfume bottles, engravings….
Luckily, I found these: A pair of tattered, torn, not-practical, Aubusson pillows.
They came in handy when I sat in the trunk, I kid you not.
Sacha will have another thing to add to his list of "My mother buys old things that are not practical and that you cannot use for anything except for building a fire."
I love that son of mine, especially when he says things like this on Mother's day.
Villeneuve Lès Avignon brocante is every Saturday morning. The Rhone river on one side, castles on both sides, Provençal blue skies and shutters, and a brocante smack dab in the middle.
French tourism perfection without even trying to be a museum.
The brocante is all about what you find beautiful: Practical or not isn't the question to ask.
My photos of the French brocante do not do it justice! Rarely do they show what I feel. I mean look at the photo above… it looks like a heap of this, that and the other, it doesn't capture the intensity of the sweet little things in the box… or the details stitches of the Aubusson, or the brush strokes of the painting, or the stories being told of the objects, or the history of everyday life seen in the old things misplaced on the ground.
But it is there under the rumble, beneath the table, and often in the hands of a lucky buyer
A worn true watering can shows its true colors. It has nurtured a garden, been held, and served a purpose. The peeling pink paints tells me that someone somewhere painted the zinc can for no other reason except for the pleasure of it.
The pleasure, the nuturing, the holding, the purpose… beautiful.
Five bloggers came to the France hoping to find small treasures at the brocante.
They did.
Susanna wanted to be kissed by a Frenchman. Happily she found her wish. I wasn't even jealous because while they kissed I nabbed the Aubusson pillows. It is a good trick to take French Husband along.
"Honey kiss the ladies so I can get a head start!"
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