The New England flea market season has commenced. Unlike our West Coast and southern kin, who trek to places like the Rose Bowl Flea Market in Pasadena or Scott Antique Market in Atlanta to pick up vintage picture frames and antique bureaus year-round, those of us who live in colder climes must suffer through a protracted winter free of deals and steals. Unless you consider going to an indoor flea market appealing — and we do have a few of these around here, held in one of those post-bankruptcy empty big box stores repurposed into a series of 10-foot stalls staffed by vendors who look as if they never inhale fresh air unless forced to do so on the way to their vans — it’s probably been a while since you’ve had a chance to take a stroll through a flea market. For myself, I don’t consider an indoor flea market a real flea market, so the opening of New England’s outdoor markets is a sign of Spring indeed. Lo! The rains are over and gone, the old is new again — or at least new-ish — and we can begin the cycle of purchase, reject, purchase once more.
As if the opening of Todd Farm wasn’t enough, Brimfield is taking place later this week. I don’t usually go to Brimfield. It seems like a major commitment, even though I live in Massachusetts and could be there and back again in a day. Which I did once and don’t really recommend. I considered going to Brimfield this round, as there is a Social Media event planned by a few enterprising bloggers to coordinate with all the designers heading there and I thought witnessing the mash-up of old junk and new twitter accounts might inspire me in my own attempt to blend old and new. But I decided to stay home and prepare for Blogfest 2011, taking place next week in New York. And by prepare I mean going on a juice fast and a wardrobe makeover, neither of which will actually happen but could, theoretically, if I don’t go to Brimfield.
Speaking of wardrobes, it’s that time again, where we peruse the best of Todd Farm fashion. This past market was subject to some dicey weather, best summed in the following photo:
As a result, most of the crowd was made up of diehards: no-joke utilitarian flea marketers that are of the Mary Randolph Carter persuasion, alluded to in my last fashion post. But as the day wore on the hipsters rolled out of bed, and the scenery began to change, with cargo jackets giving way to whimsy and riot grrrls. Appropriately enough, this progression pretty much describes Spring itself, as the leaves unfurl a little more each day and New England wakes up and puts on a show, after what is the fashion equivalent of a long slow winter wrapped in an army-issue wool blanket.