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Jenny, a bird lover from Ohio, was attracted by a small booth at a swap meet where a tall, bearded man sold birdhouses he had constructed. “He was a natural architect,” Jenny said as she proudly showed off the three birdhouses she had bought. One looked like an A-frame house, another had two neo-classical columns, and a third was designed like a little red schoolhouse. “I had no intention of buying a birdhouse, but I learned so much from him that I had to do it. And he talked to me for over an hour. Can you imagine?”
When I met Jenny, I was curious to know what, exactly, she had learned from the seller, but her response was vague. Instead, she kept talking about how long he spent with her, and how important that was to her. “I live alone,” Jenny offered, “and during the pandemic I got used to being alone. The only real conversations I had were by phone. I didn’t even want to do Zooms because I didn’t feel like getting dressed and fixing my hair. Today was flea market therapy for me. I had a fascinating conversation with the guy selling the birdhouses. I don’t even know his name, but for the first time in ages I don’t feel alone.”
At a sprawling flea market in Catalonia, Spain, a small crowd of French-speaking women gathered in front of a stand that sold gently used designer clothes. They spoke animatedly about clothes they weren’t necessarily buying. One of them laughingly said that she calls herself “Luce des puces” (Luce is a woman’s name and “puces” means fleas in French). She explained that going to the once-a-week flea market was as much a social gathering as it was a shop opp. “The women get together and we speak French and talk about clothes, restaurants, movies, politics … whatever comes up. Sometimes we jokingly compete to buy a great hat or dress. It’s such a good way to relax because it’s outdoors and not shopping inside.”
Hans, who is Dutch, reported, “People always say the Dutch are cheap. It’s a stereotype but maybe there is some truth about being frugal. My parents made a religion out of living in a low-cost way. There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s exciting to get a good bargain. It’s like an unexpected surprise. There are enough difficulties in the world, but getting something inexpensively is easy. It’s almost like a reward or a gift, and it’s fun. Bargaining for a better price with a vendor is fun. It’s not serious. It’s a game where everyone wins. The seller sells, and the buyer is satisfied to get a good price. Everyone goes home happy.”
I met a woman in Arizona who has a chronic illness, and she said that she is anxious and depressed when she thinks about the future and how she might be sick for many years. “When I go to a swap meet, I get absorbed. I learn. I meet people. I discuss jewelry and books and I forget about myself. I don’t have to worry about spending too much money. There’s none of that financial stress. It’s free. And a break from worry is very healing for me.”
Many vendors I have met started out as collectors … of everything imaginable: matchbooks, pins, old dolls, sheet music, bicycle parts, ties, lawn ornaments, African masks, plastic miniature elephants, bottle caps, antique farm tools, teapots, typewriters. No matter how esoteric the items, there are interested buyers, and the vendors are often highly informed about their collections. Some sell only at local swap meets, and others have mapped out circuits where they participate in numerous regional flea markets. Most do it as a side hustle, but some manage to make a living.
I have bought vintage jewelry, handbags, and clothes at swap meets. But my favorite purchase was from a highly creative Diné (Navajo) artist. He made a mobile from soda cans, and it has spun in the wind on my porch for many years. I remember details of his growing up on a reservation, and I was so engrossed in his tales that I never thought to bargain. His price was more than fair. Buying from him, like buying from all the vendors I have met, is like a wonderful library of educational, emotional, and positive memories. I highly recommend it.
