A Vintage Skirt, and Other Finds, at the Vide Grenier

    If you read this blog even once in a while, you'd think we spend every Sunday morning browsing through secondhand goods. Which is true. Well, maybe not every Sunday morning, but probably one in four.
    Like fishermen, we have our favourite spots. If you've caught a record-breaking salmon there once, you tend to return to the same place. Because the summer vide grenier in La Bastide de Boussignac has led to some "yesss" finds over the years, including four tall curtains in the perfect shade of yellow, we were there soon after it opened.
    That first quick browse of the trestle tables often produces old friends: there's a certain plaster dog that I swear I've seen in half a dozen villages, and an old coffee tin that's too rusty even for me. You get to know some of the vendors too. But I've never seen this Madame anywhere else but in La Bastide.

 She's got so much style that I'm in awe. She also has an enviable collection of vintage clothing, cushions, lace and other bits and pieces.

  I would never have the courage to wear this hat. The ultimate Easter bonnet...

  
...or this one. Although I could see it going down a treat at Mirepoix's annual apple festival.
    No, what I fell for was this skirt which manages to combine a riotous palette, a cheerfully slapdash approach to tie-dyeing and loads of sparkly sequins.

    What's your guess, maybe mid-1950s? Five euros changed hands and I wandered off, sure that I'd used up my vide grenier karma for the day but quite content with my find du jour.
    But no.
    When friends come to stay, we always joke about the monogrammed linen sheets they'll find on their bed. Except it's true. Years ago, we realized that we could buy superb antique bed linen for less than you'd pay for plain old cotton sheets at Ikea. There are two reasons for this. First of all, vintage linen was usually made for double beds so, if you sleep in a king- or queen-size, you're out of luck. Second, laziness. Most people think that antique linen calls for huge amounts of work in the washing and ironing department. I swear on my grandmother's wringer that this is not true. I machine wash my sheets and drape them on the drying rack. I never, ever iron them. Back in the days when I had a clothes dryer, I simply threw them in to dry and that was that. Yes, you do end up with the  odd dimple or rumple. So?
     Even though we now own enough vintage linen to stock a small hotel, I'm always drawn to it so, at this particular vide grenier, I jumped up and down when I spied a gorgeous damask linen table napkin, hand-monogrammed and dyed a deep shade of green.

      I unfolded it. It was so enormous that...you must excuse me while I go and look for the tape measure. Right, it's 82 cm wide--just under three feet--and proportionally deep. To have a napkin of this size and weight on your lap is to make you think you're eating lunch with the family in a chateau in Bordeaux.
      Meanwhile, back in the Ariège...
     "How much?"
     She named a price.
     Ok, I thought. I'll buy two, for sumptuous suppers just for the two of us.
     The vendor pointed at the stack on her stall. The price she'd mentioned was for "le lot."
     I rammed them into my basket and didn't even count them till I got home when I discovered I'd bought a dozen enormous linen napkins, monogrammed by hand....
      ....for four euros.

One more vide grenier, two more brocantes...

Last Sunday morning found us ambling around a vide grenier in Mirepoix.

   The big question here was...could you buy each item individually or did you have to walk away with the whole thing?

The careful editing and arranging--enamelware in this case--means that this stallholder knows his or her stuff--and prices are correspondingly higher than if you unearthed any of these from a carton underneath the table (my favourite place to search). I didn't even bother to ask the price of this matched set of vintage tins in prime condition.

  We own a duplicate of the one on the right. From the hairstyles, I'm guessing these date back to the 1940s or 50s.

On the secondhand social ladder, the vide grenier is at the bottom, with the depot-vente one step up, and the brocante above that. Then you enter the costly realm of the antiquaire. This brocante in Mirepoix specializes in old books and magazines. If you're a Brigitte Bardot fan, check out all those  copies of Paris Match.

The owner was still enjoying his Sunday lunch when we walked by. "I'm eating. Open 3 p.m."

But there's another brocante right opposite.

I just love this combination of sun-faded pinks and blues, and that intricate tiled floor inside.

     Beyond the shop is a secret courtyard crammed with more treasures. Next weekend, there's another vide grenier in a nearby village.
     And so summer Sundays go by...

Yet another vide grenier...

   Twice a year, our village holds a vide grenier. Strictly speaking, I should be out there behind a stall given the amount of stuff we've accumulated. But no, instead I'm Madame Super Shoppaire, out there as soon as I've had my breakfast, racing down past the church and the school to where the first of the stalls are.
   Here's what I managed to find this time.

   I cannot resist vintage postcards. Not sure if it's the photographs, or the tiny, perfect hand-writing or the way that the stamp is sometimes stuck on the picture side. This little lot cost us about three euros.

    A medieval painting. Genuinely medieval. Must be. Cost me all of three euros.

 Almost none of our plates match. Instead I collect those made by the Sarreguemines company, which feature different flowers. One euro.

  A present for my sister (and now she's got it, I can blog about it). A classic black beret with this glorious label inside. It was made in Carcassonne sometime in the 1950s or 60s, I'm guessing. Also one euro.

Prizes for guessing what this is...

  Desolé for the long silence and a quick catch-up since my last post. We arrived back from Paris late on the Wednesday and my sister and her family arrived on the Friday at lunchtime for a few days stay. In between then and now, one of the things we've been doing is readying the house for the cooler weather. Our downstairs has two doors and one large window at the front (two doors because we live in what was originally two houses). The goal this year is to find or make thick curtains that will add to the visual coziness and keep the cold out. We do have shutters on one door and the window but you have to open both to open and close them. A drafty job.
  The previous owner left net curtains behind but they're decorative rather than functional. What I'm leaning towards are velvet curtains lined with fleece (not sheep's fleece but that faux stuff used to make sportswear). That way, we should be super snug.
  The wood-burning stove throws off an astonishing amount of heat. We buy our wood by the stere, the equivalent of one cubic metre, and have it cut in 50 cm lengths--the width of the stove. The house came equipped with a central heating system but we try to use it just as a back-up, oil prices being what they are.
  Seasonal cooking really starts to make sense at this time of year. Cassoulet, duck, pork belly, daubes, all those dishes you really don't want to think about in the summer but love to eat once the temperature drops.
  Vide greniers (attic-emptyings) continue well into the chilly weather. Léran had its own the other weekend, and here's my prize find.
   If you've been to our house, you know that it features more than its fair share of chipped French enamel. Coffee-pots, candlesticks, things for hanging drying cloths on, but we didn't own one of these

 Aren't those little birds adorable?  I was delighted to pick this up for a mere five euros. Anyone like to guess what it is?

Vide grenier season again....

     Call me "Second-hand Rose". Very few items in our home came to us via the normal retail route. Almost everything here has a story behind it and, more often than not, that story began in a depot-vente (secondhand store) or vide-grenier (car boot sale, yard sale...).
    Recently, we drove to Dun to take in an art and crafts exhibition and, er, a vide-grenier. Slim pickings this time, as sometimes happens. Loads of kids' clothes, Barbie dolls, plastic whatevers, which is great for parents of little ones and, even if you're not, good to know that dear ole Barbie isn't going to end up, plastic legs akimbo, on the town dump. But on to objets that I do want:
    I've got the technique down by now. If I see something interesting, I never grab it with great shouts of joy. Better to sidle around it, looking at other objects, even asking the price of an elderly ash-tray that I have no interest in whatsoever. Then, almost offhandedly, I pick up object of my desire and see what the owner wants for it.
    She wanted eight euros for this little art nouveau jug. Hmmm. Don't need another jug (although "need" rarely has anything to do with what we buy at vide greniers) and eight euros is sort of at the tipping point. I walked back to the car, thinking about the jug, and picturing it holding pink roses. When I got to the car, I thought some more, and walked back to the stall. The stallholder immediately knew why I was there.
   "Eight euros," she said, "but you can have it for seven". Score.

What a weekend of vide grenier-ing and exotic dancing!

    We were desolés that the friends from Vancouver who stayed with us for the latter part of the week before last had to leave on the Saturday afternoon, thereby missing the flood of attic-emptying that would find its way on to local stalls on Sunday (more of that later).
    So, we were all chuffed to see that the Lavelanet vide grenier was scheduled for Saturday, starting at 6 a.m. We didn't make it that early but we were there around 9 a.m. Not a huge number of participants as the day was grey and chilly. But we did find finds.
    A stack of very old documents covered all over in brown spidery writing were only available as "le lot"--and that was 100 euros. Vintage postcards, on the other hand, were a reasonable 50 centimes. Don't you love this flapper from 1922? Fur stole, feather in her hat, flagrantly red lips, come-hither eyes: she's got the lot.

  

 I also left with a tiny hand-embroidered pin-cushion...

....and a Princess Grace and Prince Rainier tea-cup. Having second thoughts about this one already...

********

    A further wealth of possibilities faced us on Sunday, starting right under our noses in Léran. The sun shone, stalls were laden and, rooting through a box of postcards, I chose these--details below each one.

Feel free to contribute guesses as to what's going on here. All I can tell you is that the card is addressed to a Monsieur Joseph Joulin who lived in Narbonne, and the message simply reads: "Paris. 4/2/1914" and a question mark.

This one's more for family consumption, but it was never sent to anyone. A stamp on the back advertises Maison Labau, a clothing store for "hommes et garçonnets", Isn't "garçonnet" a sweet word? It's old French for "a little boy."

I bought this one because of the vintage car and its occupants. 

Barcelona--in the old days. Apologies but I can't make out the date on the postmark.

Turin at night. This is almost my favourite one of the bunch because of its cinéma noir-ish feel.

 
  I also nabbed an enormous piece of red checked fabric, fibres unknown to me to the stall lady (who also sold me these postcards). A picnic blanket?
    Purchases went back to the house before we jumped in the car and drove to Manses, a little village just north of Mirepoix.

Books, DVDs and videocassettes, chinaware, glasses, a lamp, vases, pictures...

Lunch first. Hot dogs on  baguette, cheese on baguette or ham on baguette. And frites.

Inside the village hall, you could buy wine, pastis, beer, soft drinks or coffee.

    The buy of the day that had me jumping up and down was a copper watering can. I wasn't even going to bother to ask the price, reckoning it would be in the 40 to 50 euro range. Then, the man selling it told me I should buy it because it went with my outfit (only in France!), said the price was five euros (yes, yes) and threw in"un petit Jésus"(one of those tiny china models that hide in French Christmas cakes) for free.

    On my second trawl of the market,  I spotted a magnificent jug shaped like a bunch of grapes, two euros for this, another gift, and then a third one later of a pre-Euro-era Italian coin. I gave him a 100 baht coin from Thailand that had wiggled its way to the bottom of my handbag.
    Later, the same day: our homeward route took us through Mirepoix anyway so we parked on a side street, and walked into the square to watch a promised exhibit of South American dancing. I'd envisaged live musicians, frilly frocks and tight trousers. Got none of those but the shoes definitely made up for it.

More Reading Material and Other Flea Market Finds.

     Before I get into the stack of books I brought home from the vide grenier at Fanjeaux last Sunday (including this 1950s movie mag), a word or two about why we returned not once, but twice, to a certain barn. To be blunt, we couldn't resist the prices--which dropped steadily as the hours went by. First find--and my favourite--is the enamel coffee-pot that now stands on the bistro table on the terrace. An art director moment or what?

    Next up, but too boring to photograph, an ornate wooden knob to go on the knob-less post at the bottom of the stairs. Also not worthy of visuals, but undeniably nice, were two vintage linen pillowcases, square in shape, which means I must now buy two typically French square pillows.
  
  

But the best bargains were the books. Someone had thrown out a large stack of English gardening books. By the time I found them, the price was down to three for a euro. I walked away with Home-Grown Vegetables (published 1927) -- best page heading: "A Table of Manures." Varieties described in Rare Vegetables (1960) include tree onions--"the curious tree onion is a useful novelty"--Hamburg parsley, and Good King Henry--"sometimes known as Lincolnshire asparagus."  I do intend to research all these. Whether I'll grow them is another matter. The smallest gardening book but promising endless hours of amusement is simply titled Liquid Manure Gardening and features ads both at the front and the back of the book for a product called Liquinure. Slogan: "Your crops and flowers are liquid feeders." A regular diet of that plus a bottle of Corry's Slug Death --"one taste and they are dead"--must have guaranteed bumper crops.

I  picked up these two little  books because I couldn't bear to think that they might end up on a scrap heap somewhere. Untold hours have work have gone into these pages, all covered in spidery brown hand-writing. 

A close-up so you can see how densely the writer has filled the pages.

 Fanjeaux was definitely en fête right down to this troupe of "medieval" performers. I imagine the sombre colours and general air of griminess are far more authentic than the usual romanticized costumes you see.

    It's a charming hill-top village with steep streets, an impressive 13th century church and a sweet little tea-room. Pictures coming up...

Small Dogs and Snails

    A rousing chorus of the Marseillaise and three resounding cheers. Vide-grenier season is back, the time when people empty their attics and sell what they find. This past Sunday we drove to one we'd seen advertised at Les Pujols, a small village that normally we speed through en route to Pamiers. 

   Truth to tell it wasn't the best of vide-greniers, being long on plastic toys, children's clothes and souvenir swizzle sticks but I did come upon a--well, I thought it would do very nicely as a laundry basket, especially at five euros. I could just picture myself piling it up with newly washed monogrammed linen sheets to hang out to dry in the garden. The woman selling it agreed but added I could also use it for "un petit chien" which makes me suspect that it wasn't actually meant for laundry. When rain started to patter down, it also functioned nicely as a hat. 

    Almost all these events offer food and drink in some shape or form. This time it was snails. A smiling couple stirred vast quantities of escargots simply cooked with parsley and garlic, and others prepared with tomatoes, Catalan style.