Brocante

Judy. In France, a brocante is a flea market, a marche au puces, and I love them. My favorites are the ones held outside, spread over the market square. Ted enjoys them, too, so we try to catch one or two while we’re in this country. In fact, one Sunday when we were headed out to see some small villages, we spotted a big one, like often seen in the States, and spent some time wandering through the trash and the treasures. 

Lately though, it seems the term brocante has become “citified,” moved into a building and more like an antiques store. However, just down from out apartment in Pomerol, I spotted what looked like a real flea market, partially open-air, with interesting nooks and crannies in side rooms, so I stopped by. 

I was initially greeted by the pitbull’s barks, then a woman stuck her head out a window and told her to hush. I asked if the brocante were open, and got a “Bien sûr” in response. Madame Isabelle introduced herself, then rushed to open the rusted iron gates and invite me in. The sweet pitbull snuggled up for rubs.

 

Mme. Isabelle and her husband, M. Frank

American Pickers would have a ball! I’m not sure when I’ve seen such a collection of trash and treasure. Mme Isabelle led me into a well-lit and well-filled side room, then stopped to grab a huge flashlight before taking me into the back room, where there was no overhead light, and the sun couldn’t make its way through the dirty windows. Shelf after shelf was packed with items, many of which I couldn’t identify. There were some beautiful pieces of pottery, and others cracked or peeling. Frankly, I could hardly wait to get back to the open main room. 

At least you could see in this room

Plates, little sculpture, dusty fake roses

Madame explained to me (in French, and after asking if I was from New York) that she and her husband Frank had owned this brocante for forty years, retired, then opened it again. They were trying to make a second go, and she asked me to take some fliers to give my friends “pour publicité.” While I saw little of decorative value—some cheap plates and souvenir spoons—I have no doubt that someone with a good eye could find all kinds of goodies.

Nice to be back in the open air

What I found most valuable was a conversation with a little Frenchwoman who loves her business.