Last week was all about luck and lately it seems that I’ve got more luck than I know what to do with. I saw a flyer up in town advertising something to do with apples so I made sure to jot down the details. Now I’m not overly concerned with pommes but I live with someone who is quite fruity. And since it’s in my own best interest to support Neil’s ongoing culinary efforts, we set off to the town’s exposition hall to take in what we thought would be an apple market. I was suppressing a large yawn as we opened the door but one look inside and I knew my sweet and considerate behaviour was being rewarded.

Not apples. A brocante! A giant market of furniture …

antique linens …

and fantastic miscellaneous items from a fine Frenchy life …

The most beautiful books I have ever seen …

and my favourite, antique valises …

There were so many incredibly gorgeous things to see, sequined evening bags from the fifties, art nouveau light fixtures, you name it, anything that I was dying to have but couldn’t afford was there. Neil was charmed as well but I think he was still disappointed that there wasn’t going to be any pie. Too bad sucker, I was willing to waste a day learning about produce all for the love of a good man. Instead I spent a lovely Sunday at the flea market of my dreams. How d’ya like them apples?

 

 

 

 

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