I grew up going to junk and antique shops with my mother, first in the English countryside where we lived, then in the U.S.
As we entered the dark, sometimes dank shops, treasures always awaited. My mother had a fine eye, and we would fill the trunk of the car with everything from a stack of white Spode plates lined with gold, ancient kimonos, rugs from the “Orient,” crystal decanters, huge and highly decorative pottery bowls and pitchers from an era of scant bathrooms, to silverware, Oh! the silverware.
I was her companion because the schools I went to had different vacations from those of my siblings. I think she worried that going to junk shops wasn’t as fun as playing with friends or going to camp, and so I was always allowed to pick out something for myself, as a sort of reward. And that’s why to this day I carry around with me a wildly active, if diminutive, pewter horse sculpture (I must have been 10 when I picked that out, during my horse phase ), a porcelain set of candlesticks and a plate to rest them on, little blue glass-lined silver salt dishes with miniature silver spoons (I was after the spoons), and bits of lace.
I don’t get rid of them because they speak to me of such an important moment in my life. Uunknowingly, my mother was giving me an education far more valuable than my university degree. Not only did she choose, then bargain for, beautiful things, but then we used them every day.
Those visits and the daily use of beautiful, old things was preparing me to live in France, where old and beautiful things are found on every street corner. From the minute I arrived here I simply followed my mother’s lessons, furnishing my house at brocantes and vide-greniers (antique and junk shops, and attic emptyings), and constantly adding to my collection of plates, glasses, platters and anything else I thought would be useful (and pleasing to have around!)
Even today, as I sauntered through a sidewalk vide-grenier I couldn’t help looking (even though I need more things like I need another hole in my head). There were gorgeous linens, one of my Achilles’ heel, and crystal glasses I had to tear myself away from.
I saw soup tureens (this country is FILLED with soup tureens because soup is so essential to the culinary lexicon), including a particularly fetching barbotine from the turn of the 20th century. There were luxurious linen sheets, small, crystal red wine glasses, decanters, champagne buckets, bone-handled table knives. And as always, there was plenty of stuff that makes you scratch your head (the letter opener made from a deer hoof), but it’s part of the fun.
I recommend a visit to a brocante or vide grenier while visiting France. They offer a glimpse into French morés and history as valuable as a boat ride on the Seine, Monet’s house in Giverny, a visit to a museum. Because as you walk you will wonder, who wore these things? Whose dowry was never touched and is now here in the form of perfectly embroidered but unused linen sheets and towels? Why are the red wine glasses so small? And you are very likely to find real treasures, too. I have a friend who deals in antique books, and he just found a book hidden in a box that earned him enough to redecorate his apartment.
If you plan to buy, keep some loose rules in mind: bargain, touch, lift, peruse, be willing to walk away. There will always be something cooler up ahead!
Some good places to begin:
This links you to neighborhood vide-greniers in Paris
https://vide-greniers.org/75-Paris
The Marché aux Puces at Porte de Vanves
https://pucesdevanves.com
The Marché aux Puces de Clignancourt
https://www.tourisme93.com/acces-aux-puces-de-saint-ouen-transports-horaires.html
