After blogging over at Blogspot for the past two years, I’ve officially moved to WordPress – Welcome to ChristineJessie, 2.0!
A few weeks ago, I spent a lovely Sunday afternoon at Williamsburg’s Brooklyn Flea. Unexpectedly, a funny thing happened as I walked among the hipsters and vintage memorabilia; pangs of nostalgia for my childhood came out of the woodwork. I’ll set the backstory: My dad has always been a tremendous history and antiques buff; a sponge a knowledge that man is. So, my formative years consisted largely of tagging along – often begrudgingly so – with my family to auctions, antique shops, flea markets and various vintage shows while my dad painstakingly searched for 19th century Wells Fargo strong boxes. This may not come as a shocker, but as it happens, I didn’t fully appreciate those experiences (or rather, dreaded them) until I became, ahem, the mature adult I am today. (Who could blame my ten-year-old self? My brother and sister and I wanted to hurry up and get to Busch Gardens already and my dad could spend
hours days at antique shops.) Flash forward to present day and here I am merrily strolling up and down the same aisles of old furniture, coins and skeleton keys I did as a kid. However, now I not only appreciate the minutiae of rummaging through “things” of yore, I find it fun. How’s that for life coming full circle?
Here, without further adieu, are a few snapshots from my day at the Brooklyn Flea.
It’s nice to get a different perspective on the city every now and then. This one comes via the view of midtown Manhattan from Williamsburg.
Yorkwood Furniture Co. is a reclaimed wood furniture line, whose team offered up a twangy dose of blue grass. The guy who is now playing the trumpet also plays a mean teapot. That’s right, a teapot with a mouthpiece. Sweet.
Snapshot of the tents.
This ring is the only purchase I made at the flea market, but I fell in love with it as soon as I saw it. It’s an up-cycled scrabble piece and for only $5, I was sold.
These glasses (especially the green pair up front) were right up my alley. $35 ain’t bad.