I sort of get why they call it a "Flea Market" now.
Dear 27,
Crossed off #23 this afternoon with a necessarily brief trip to a Flea Market at the Fairgrounds. I originally added "Browse a Flea Market" to the list because I figured I would chance upon treasures: a box filled with delicate vintage postage stamps, wood-type stacked neatly among lead-type, tiny skeleton keys laid out on pretty saucers or sweet little piles of colorful tea cups. (You know, something like this, this, and especially this.)
Instead, the flea market looked like this. I passed by tables of surplus promotional materials (think the pens, coffee cups and chip clips your bank gives away), booths that looked like a basement was emptied into it, and that they didn't sift out the exceptionally weird stuff (think reflectors that had broken off the back of your childhood bicycle) or tables that had stacks of chip bags on them. (Seriously.)
Crossed off #23 this afternoon with a necessarily brief trip to a Flea Market at the Fairgrounds. I originally added "Browse a Flea Market" to the list because I figured I would chance upon treasures: a box filled with delicate vintage postage stamps, wood-type stacked neatly among lead-type, tiny skeleton keys laid out on pretty saucers or sweet little piles of colorful tea cups. (You know, something like this, this, and especially this.)
Instead, the flea market looked like this. I passed by tables of surplus promotional materials (think the pens, coffee cups and chip clips your bank gives away), booths that looked like a basement was emptied into it, and that they didn't sift out the exceptionally weird stuff (think reflectors that had broken off the back of your childhood bicycle) or tables that had stacks of chip bags on them. (Seriously.)
Ok so the whole place didn't have the smell of the unwashed and the junky. There were swords, a spot that sold motorized wheelchairs (where I saw a woman negotiating with the seller a pretty intense payment plan) and a big booth that sold socks with the tags still on them. I did find this little gem of a belt buckle, that I nearly purchased. Would have been a nice brassy accessory for the PKN presentation.
I did spend $5 in the less than 20 minutes I spent in the 4-H building. A couple 45s (including "Killing Me Softly" by Roberta Flack) and a couple vintage postcards.
The muscle man is Bob McCune (Mr. America). The vendor gave me two of these cards, which are promotional cards for Sorensen's Health Gym (205 Grand Avenue, Des Moines 9, Iowa) where Mr. American tells me that there is "only one safe speedy way" to develop a "PHYSIQUE" like his. Can't wait to send that one to an unsuspecting recipient.
So the flea market wasn't a dreamy artsy haven, but it certainly showed me a bit of Des Moines I hadn't seen before and with only 50 days until 28, I crossed another one off the list.
xo-LP