It turns out that flea markets are actually indoors a lot of the time, since I hardly saw any merchandise out in the open air. Rebecca, Ariel, Hanna, and I went together (I’m guessing Ariel and Hanna’s respective bright blonde and very red hair made us a dead giveaway as tourists – oops), and we found out that individual mini mall-style markets line the streets. My favorite was probably Marché Dauphine was probably my favorite thanks to its collection of vintage books, art prints, and clothing – basically all of the antiques that could possibly tempt me.
The Marché Biron was also pretty incredibly, but definitely not because I was tempted to buy anything. This was not the market for a poor college student budget. Between the priceless works of art and Rococo (or as our very French art teacher would say, “Rocaille”) furniture, I was a little overwhelmed by the glamour. I did risk the wrath of a French shop owner, though, by petting her fluffy little dog. He seemed a little confused by my attention, actually, just like all the French babies I keep smiling at.
The rest of the walk is pretty much a blur of tiny spaces and cool trinkets. The only items that really caught my eye were a collection of copper cookware. Then I realized: how am I ever supposed to get pots and pans home with me? Crisis effectively averted.