One of my first visits to St. Ouen, 1975.
The thrill of the hunt started in my childhood. Mom and a friend made frequent trips to roadside antique markets and renovation sites in rural Virginia for the occasional corner cupboard or pie safe. On one occasion, my sister and I each bought a riding saddle for $1, figuring that the horse would come later. It didn’t. But we hung the saddles from the basement beams and rode for endless hours.
Years later, my husband introduced me to a new world—one of brocante, marché aux puces and vide greniers. We spent many early weekends at the open-air markets of the Port de Vanves or in the labyrinth of stalls at St. Ouen, just north of Paris. In the South of France, on Monday mornings, we headed for the Cours Salaya in the vieux Nice, where vendors set up displays on a sun-drenched plaza, surrounded by cafés.
Monday mornings at the Cours Salaya, Nice
Our early purchases offered an inexpensive means of furnishing a small apartment. Four rush-bottomed chairs and a small drop-leaf table. One splurge—a Gallé lamp that shattered when a gust of wind blew open a French window.
Most of our finds needed a bit of work—a wobbly table leg, . . . a new hinge on an armoire door. Perhaps we should replace those original wooden pegs with screws to stabilize this swaying piece of furniture, now nestled upright between a couch and a wall. But we were buying a heritage piece—something that reflected a period as well as craftsmanship, even if it came with a few blemishes.
Passion can become an obsession, and we parted ways. I decided to start anew with a mail-order dining room table from an upscale store. After all, where could I go wrong? The dining table arrived. Underneath a thin wood veneer lay a sheet of pressed wood. Only three of the four legs could be mounted. . . . I pulled the table and box to the front porch and scheduled a pickup return.
Once again, I’ve renewed my enthusiasm for leisurely stops at non-profit thrift shops, not only for furniture but also for vintage clothing.
I’ve come upon items--both locally and in my travels. Small rattan tables & a chair ($40 each) at thrift shops in Melbourne and most of an eight-piece set of Theodore Haviland Limoges with gold trim (under $20 at a Goodwill store in Virginia).
A pristine Coach knee-length trench for $40, along with assorted blouses and sweaters from numerous locations.
Sourced from consignment & thrift
These non-profit thrifts benefit numerous organizations. In Melbourne, donations are directed to shelters (CITA), children with cancer (Candlelighters of Brevard County and community outreach (Episcopal Thrift). Plus, they offer eclectic collections and the opportunity to live more sustainably.
And I am not alone. The U.S. market has surged in second-hand/ vintage clothing, not only for economic reasons but more in protest of the adverse environmental impact of fashion and the need for sustainability. In fact, the UK has a Second Hand September (Danziger).
Over the years, my thrill of the hunt has become more realistic and targeted because of my needs and style, but I am concerned about quality of goods and sustainability.
Work Cited
Danziger, Pamela. “Secondhand Goes Mainstream As More Shoppers Turn to Thrift Stores And Online Retail.” Forbes. 15 September 2025. https://www.forbes.com/sites/pamdanziger/2025/09/15/secondhand-goes-mainstream-as-more-shoppers-turn-to-thrift-and-online-resale/. Accessed 23 February 2026.
Related Readings
Runkle, Amanda. “Where Do Your Donated Clothes Actually Go?” Me Mother Earth Brand. 6 September 2024. https://memotherearthbrand.com/blogs. Accessed 23 February 2026.
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