Amuse-Bouche No. 15: Fleas and by Julia FreyThe world is full of objets encombrants (nickname: “”).Lydie and I love to -- to go bargain hunting for (“collectibles”, i.e. bric-a-brac). doesn’t come from (China, same pronunciation) but from (spine), because rag and junk men used to carry their wares on their backs. We too wear backpacks as we haunt (quite literally “flea markets”), (street sales, also known as in northern France) as well as and ( means barter, but both are actually consignment shops). For (clothing), we search the (secondhand clothing stores) known in classier terms as “”, literally “unhook that for me”. (pronounced van-TAZH)—whether it was actually made 30 years ago or just looks that way—is (very trendy).When we were students, we used to (go through garbage cans), also known as (from , reusing or recycling still useable objects) —a perfectly respectable activity among (the ecologically correct). This was the routine: On days when (trash haulers) were scheduled to pick up (nickname: “”) like dead refrigerators, obsolete dot-matrix printers and with broken mirrors, people would put out their junk. But before the garbage trucks passed, other people, like Lydie and me, would (go treasure hunting). I acquired ratty rattan trunks, old ceramic pickle jars and once, a 1910 Thonet bentwood chair that was only slightly (rickety). Just like the one in the Centre Pompidou.Collecting is a mixed blessing. That 1930s inlaid wooden headboard abandoned in my courtyard looked great after it was hosed off, given a coat of furniture wax and attached to my double bed. But the next morning I woke up with huge red bites! Apparently —bedbugs (also the word for “thumbtacks”, equally unpleasant in one’s bed)—can live in wood for years. Lydie, who can fix anything, helped me paint the wood with Xylophène (a French insecticide). Worked great. often develop a chronic problem: no storage space. As usual, Lydie has the answer: “There’s going to be a neighborhood (an invariable noun, ending in s -- literally “emptying of attics”, a yard sale). Let’s rent a table!” I collect unused dishes, dented kitchen utensils and historic electronics; wash outgrown clothes and ancient linens. Cleaning out our long-abandoned (basement), I come across a ridiculously ugly 1870s silver-plated coffeepot. ! (short for , slang for “perfect!”)—On the big day, armed with plastic bags, spare change and a thermos of coffee, we haul broken (candelabra), wilted quilts and mismatched china to the . We invent prices for everything. My silver-plated horror costs the most—150 euros. Customers come early because (first come, first served). Already, an eager (unidentified individual) is inspecting the underside of my coffeepot with a flashlight. This is fun!Lydie guards the table while I go to the (euphemism). I handle sales while she tours the rest of the stands. It’s tempting to pick up (an insignificant object) that will be extraordinary after a little (fixing up), but when she comes back, she hasn’t bought anything. “How’s the competition?” I ask.“” (it depends). (a hunting term: “to come home empty-handed”) isn’t that bad — the hunt itself is free entertainment.Near lunchtime, Lydie allows, “” (: exhausted). We’ve been working since dawn. I’m (pronounced kah-OH, “knocked out”) myself. The verb (pronounced nok-aw-TAY) is a hilarious corruption of the boxing term. We decide to close shop, contribute our unsold leftovers to our neighbor’s table and head to the café to (spend everything we’ve just earned on lunch).© Julia Frey 2009
