“Retro” means “hellish expensive” and everything else you get at a flea market shopping

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In this world there are two kinds of people: those who go to costume, as well as those who takes root in the flea market, and dig a pile of old creepy dolls, rusty key, and USES the saddle shoes, hoping to find in the 1940 s of the tin sign advertising oil or Morton salt. But wait! There’s a third group. Those who are not arrested will buy anything new. These people think that flea markets are actually full of fleas. Damn it: there’s a fourth. Egalitarianism, enlightened types, sought treasures through flea markets and sought gems through flea markets. Basically, the world is a wonderful melting pot, full of people who have different, unique, and totally effective feelings about flea markets. Amen.

My initial feelings about flea markets were very negative, not because I was afraid of being eaten by disgusting, blood-sucking parasites. That’s because of my mother. Her passion (except for her grandchildren, who are obsessed with it) is interior design. When my junior high school, she began to drag me to the flea market, and you may know, when your parents do anything similar to be imprisoned in a shame, humiliation and suffering horrific torture chamber. I don’t think I have anything else to do, so we’ll be driving around Houston this weekend and hitting her favorite places. “Why do we have to do this? !” As she drove down Old Katy Road, there was a huge warehouse filled with faded photographs, rotting military memorabilia and bankrupt typewriters. “It’s boring. Everything is so old, just like you!” I actually never meant that to my mother, but I did get pretty close in some hormonal situations.

“Honey, you can find some very clean things here, and those old books.” I like old books and she keeps me there. Because I know in the next few hours I’m her prisoner, so I will eventually succumb to these piles of old jewelry and quilts and antique lace dress, the dress is so fragile fragile, looks like turned into dust. You handled it too badly. I don’t know what would force someone to compete with a beautiful, wild-looking Edward vii dress, but it would require all sorts of things, as everyone says. In addition, you can see some people wandering around the flea market does look a little weak, so imagine one of them would laugh at the old Victorian shoes is not completely ridiculous.

A weekend, to his surprise, when we walk in flea market food court, my mother became rich philosophical, the food plaza smells like stale popcorn, camphor ball, varnish and barbecue, in three hundred people filled with a lot of people – the four hundred – pound range, considering the rest of their chops and huge Dr. Peppers. “Do you know what I like to do? “She asked closely. This woman has a knack for getting you to know every thought in her head so that it sounds like she’s going to recite Martin Luther King’s “I have a dream” speech. “What? I said as badly as I could. I pretended not to be interested.

“I like to think about who had all these things before, what their lives were like, who they liked, and what the stories behind them were.”

Shall I go with you? Our parents sometimes say something deep and meaningful, rather than always those ignorant, we need their ogre lost contact, so we can act like little bastard, find their own identity, and grow into a unique snowflake we aspire to be. “Yes,” we said as we left the food court. We entered all the rusty tin advertising display areas. Suddenly the squadron leader’s tobacco ads seemed less boring or lame. Of course, I didn’t tell my mother until a few years later.

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