Brocante Season

Today we went to our first brocante of the season. We finally hit on the perfect strategy for flea-marketing with kids: leave the teenager at home to get her homework done, and tell the 8 year-old to bring his spending money. When the first table we passed had a display of PlayStation2 games, we knew there would be no complaining.

In this part of France, at least, brocantes tend to be village-wide affairs, with display tables lined end to end not just in the town square, but down entire streets that have been closed to traffic for the day. Most of the stuff, as usual, is utter junk, unless of course you are looking for used children's clothing, obsolete electronic equipment or VHS tapes. Used glassware, tableware, dolls, toys and games of every description, mounted wild boar heads, skis, auto parts, rotary telephones, plumbing odds and ends, it's no wonder these events are also known as vide greniers, or attic clearing -- in other words, a giant yard or garage sale. It's not hard to extrapolate from a vide grenier to conclude that there is an awful lot of junk in the world. Yet, in a way the selection is fascinating, both in its sameness and its incredible curious variety. It seems there is nothing you can't find at a village brocante.

What distinguishes these brocantes from flea markets is that for the most part the sellers are not professional vendors, but simply townsfolk taking advantage of a once or twice yearly opportunity to get rid of some of their stuff and make a few euros in the bargain. They do bargain, too, and a polite approach, even with a foreign accent, usually results in a deal satisfactory to all.

These are not merely commercial events, they are recreational and social events as well. As you stroll slowly down the middle of a street in a village you may be visiting for the first time, it occurs to you that a lot of the people there seem to know each other. It's not just the vendors and other locals either, because you recognize some of your fellow bargain hunters from the football league or from a shop in another town, and then a friend is shaking your hand or kissing you on both cheeks and there you are having a soft drink or beer together under the leafy shade trees in the village park.

We moved on past cartons of paperback bodice rippers in the language of love, vinyl 33s and 45s by musicians we had and had not heard of, turntables that would play them, tube radios, coin collections, odd tools, old linens and the occasional interesting antique. Among the antiques were beautiful hammered copper pots of all shapes and sizes, a remarkably intricate bed head- and footboard, old hand tools, and lo and behold a beautiful example of a hand-made traditional wooden farm implement. This fool and his money were quickly parted, and his wife and child knew there would be no disapproval voiced when time came to select a PlayStation game.

One of the benefits of having an eight year-old with a PlayStation2 in the era of the PlayStation3 is that there seem to be a lot of teenage kids who have either moved up to the PS3 and its more sophisticated games, or grown out of game consoles altogether. Whatever the reason, there are a lot of used PS2 games for sale at brocantes these days. Yet, here was one place where bargaining wasn't going to work. Having scouted out the entire selection of games available at every table throughout the entire brocante, and having kept and sorted a running mental tally of his favorite choices, our son returned to the very first table he'd visited. The teenaged owner of the chosen game seem willing to give a break to a young kid who was coming up a couple euros short, but his mother was shrewder than that. As long as the eager eight year-old's parents were standing right behind him, she knew full well that the last two euros were on the table. She was right. It was still 70% off retail.

Strolling back down the street, across the bridge, and up the grassy path to the car, our son clutched his game to his chest and mentally calculated driving time back to the house and the PlayStation. Dad lugged his handmade wooden farm implement and reflected with satisfaction that his purchase plus the PS2 game cost less than the PS2 game new. He entertained only fleeting guilt that mom (who had looked with some interest at the intricate wooden bed pieces) had bought nothing. The fleeting guilt disappeared when she pulled out the flyer stuck under the windshield wiper and announced happily: next brocante at a village near us, May 11. Mother's Day.

We'll have a stroll in a different village, perhaps see some friends and have a beer in the shade. And even if there is another PlayStation game involved, it seems likely that the price of the game plus whatever mom buys will be less than the price of the PS2 game new.