Brocantes and Braderies

    

     The first banner went up across the brick wall above the letters of the Pharmacie St. Laurent about two weeks ago. It read Brocante ce Dimanche! It's an unusual sight in Grenoble to see a vinyl banner strung across a street or attached to a building because les panneaux are more often slathered directly onto a wall in the form of une affiche or are displayed "officially" in a protected case around the tram and bus stops. I’m well acquainted with flea markets, but when I first saw the sign, my interest was piqued. I wondered how different a French flea market would be from its American counterpart.

     My early experiences in the world of previously owned treasures began at the Englishtown, NJ, flea market when I was a teenager amazed at the "antiques" for sale and amused at the bargaining that ensued over what seemed like junk to me. As I "matured" over the years, the Raleigh (NC) Flea Market opened my eyes to the possibility of finding the perfect tchotchkes that would be ideal for chez nous. My more recent trips for a look-see at my local Goodwill shop in support for a good cause were the precursors to this present French adventure I was contemplating. So when I continued to see the brocante banners on a daily basis, I decided that they couldn’t be ignored and that I could not miss out on a French yard sale fix.

     The Isère River right bank is home to the Italian section of Grenoble*, and the brocantes are held the second Sundays of March, June, October, and December. (Mark your calendars.) Even though France is essentially a secular country, those four brocantes do not start until after everyone has had a chance to get home de l'église at one o'clock. On a walk past this section on our way to a hike up to the Bastille, we had seen that preparations were underway for the brocante the next day. All along the rue, there were signs alerting drivers that there would be no on-street parking on Sunday due to the brocante, and beaucoup de people were "thrilled" because parking is already at a premium in this town.

I wonder if she was looking for a horse or a motorcycle.

     On that Sunday after enjoying a fresh morning baguette (I do like to rub it in), we headed down to the brocante. The usual folding tables seen at flea markets were set up, and some brightly colored umbrellas dotted the scene to protect against rain rather than sun. We started at the beginning of the brocante at the far end of Quai Perrière and became immersed in the vintage feel of the market. Old china, books, jewelry, and antique oddities were artfully placed on tables and displayed on le trottoir. I fingered some old lace and turned a few pieces of the china upside down to see their marks and prices. Some ancient Grenoble postcards filled old shoe boxes and were selling for €1 apiece. Wandering aimlessly along the tables, I had to remind myself that I was becoming distracted from what we had established as our target purchase--a ceramic casserole dish with a cover that was microwaveable. Then it dawned on me. The fine poterie that I was seeing was probably made in the 19th or 20th centuries; I couldn't use it in the microwave. It was not only elaborately embellished with silver and gold edging, but it probably also carried the hazards of lead paint. I've never had to consider these issues before. The dishes were beautiful to look at, but I decided that I had better continue to search in some local stores that offer contemporary cookware and to leave these objets anciens to those who can appreciate, use, and afford them.

Antiques Quarter Brocante

      Beginning at the unusually early hour of nine o'clock this past Sunday, the streets in the antiques quarter where we live were filled with yet another brocante, and down some nearby streets, there was a braderie going on. We opened the balcony doors from our apartment and looked down upon the antique dealers setting up their wares below. In a matter of a half hour, the street was abuzz with folks strolling down the rue and bargaining for old phonograph records and books. We decided to once more set out on our quest for the French equivalent of a Corning Ware casserole dish, but alas, as before, we were out of luck.

      The braderie section that was tagged on to the brocante was set up closer to center ville away from our antiquities area. Some of the shops that are normally closed on Sundays were taking advantage of the foot traffic and had opened exceptionally and were selling some of their store inventory at reduced prices on tables in front of their stores. I did pick up a French cookbook in front of the Decitre bookshop. It should provide hours of culinary entertainment as I painfully translate and decipher the recipes in the hope of making something edible for dinner. Didn't Julia Child start out this way when she lived in France and attended Le Cordon Bleu?

     As we were returning to our apartment, I spotted some of the same stuff that I had eyed the week before at the St. Laurent brocante. That's when I realized that these sellers were no ordinary local residents cleaning out their greniers (attics) and caves (cellars); instead, these are true entrepreneurs caravanning around France (and maybe Italy) hawking their wares to the highest unsuspecting bidder. Now, if only they would stock some microwaveable covered bowls with lead-free paint, they’d definitely make a sale.

Brocantes are hard work!

Et voilà :  
brocantes: upscale flea markets

braderies: clearance sales
les panneaux: the signs
une affiche: a poster
tchotckes: knickknacks
de l'église: from church
chez nous: at our house
le trottoir: the sidewalk
poterie: pottery
objets anciens: old objects

*    On a walk down rue St. Laurent, I counted over 40 Italian restaurants and pizzerias in the space of three city blocks. I call this section of Grenoble, "Petite Italie." Wonder if there are any financial connections between these restaurants and Sicily.

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