As a child, when my mother wasn't dragging me to the grocery store, Penney's, or one of the many historical sites in the greater Washington, D.C., area, I could count on spending a listless hour or two at a flea market, wondering why so many were bedazzled by old glass bottles and cement bird baths.
The flea markets of my youth were small affairs. My mother spent more time yakking with neighbors than looking at rickety oak chairs. But in South Florida last week, I learned that anything anyone could possibly want can be found under one roof at any number of colossal flea markets. They're as much a part of the scenery as Winn-Dixies and Waffle Houses.
The Carnival Flea Market in Delray is about the size of a typical supermarket, with all types of fruits and vegetables, by the way, for sale at the front entrance. But once inside, patrons can stroll an old-fashioned, canopied midway with section names like Fantasy Fairway, Big Top Terrace and Cotton Candy Lane. The aisles are clogged with locals looking for a deal. But if the feet need a rest after searching for that discounted watch or gold chain, there's always video poker or slot machines in Circus Circus.
It was the number and variety of items available that fascinated me. Perhaps a thousand reading glasses, for example, were in boxes and racks that lined one entire wall. In the market for that hard-to-find purple leopard pattern? No problem. How about red-and-white polka dot, tiger-striped, or Garbo-style sunglasses? They have those, too. What they didn't have were the right size clip-on sunglasses I need, but if I ever want "Peeper Keepers" — those elastic straps that kept my elementary-school teachers' glasses around their necks — I know where to go. They have hundreds of them.
I can imagine a resident in one of several gated communities in Boca Raton waking up in the middle of the night to exclaim, "Harry, the Wilsons are flying in from Scarsdale this weekend. I'll send you to the flea market for extra Beach-Chair Hors D'oeuvres Picks!" While Harry's there, he might as well pick up a "Fuzz-Off" sweater comb, a mushroom brush, and "Squeeze Ease," a handy little gadget that gets every last drop of denture cream out of the tube.
The grandkids will love the candy section, where Mary Janes, Bit-O-Honey, diced papaya, Jelly Belly beans, coconut patties, and chocolate-covered turtle cashews all come in prepackaged containers. While the children gorge themselves on free samples, go down the next aisle for a waxing and nail treatment, or visit your attorney to get that conniving daughter-in-law out of your will.
The wig section is larger than the police station in my hometown. I'd have stayed longer to check out the merchandise, but the saleswoman kept eyeing me suspiciously. It must be a challenge to keep all of those purple and lime-green tinted twists and pony tails out of the clutches of shoplifters. With the Amy Winehouse look catching on, there must be a booming black market for those things.
I noticed, as a kid, a particular fashion trend for men aged 65 and older: a white belt, the wider, the better, to hold up pants that mysteriously creep up toward the chest. Some 40 years have passed since I first made that observation, and that accessory is still popular, if the racks on display are any indication. Then right before I was about to leave, my eye caught a service one doesn't come across every day.
Women no longer need to tediously apply eyeliner and lipstick. They can have both tattooed onto their faces. I asked my wife, Betty, about it, and she explained that some elderly women's hands shake so much that it's hard to put on makeup. I guess so, but I'm not sure I'd want to wake up next to Betty suddenly looking like Joan Collins in the morning, when she used to saunter down the staircase in "Dynasty."
The next time you're in Florida and you get tired of perpetual sunshine, the ocean, or trying to find that perfectly shellacked alligator head, drop by a flea market. You can never have too many wasabi peas, or pink oven mitts shaped like flamingos.
John Edmondson is a teacher in Hampstead. His column appears Wednesdays in the Derry News.
