The brocante is all about what you find beautiful.
Practical or not isn't the question.
The photo of the French brocante does not do it justice. Rarely does it show what I feel. I mean look at the photo above: A heap of this, that, and the other, it doesn't capture the intensity of the sweet little things in the box, nor the details stitches of the Aubusson, or the brush strokes of the painting, or the stories being told of the objects, or the history of everyday life seen in the old things misplaced on the ground. But the soulful history is there under the heap of misplaced things, beneath the table, tucked between the pages of a book, tucked inside a trunk, and often in the hands of a lucky buyer.
A worn true watering can shows its colors. It has nurtured a garden, been held, and served a purpose. The peeling pink paints tells me that someone somewhere painted the zinc can for no other reason except for the pleasure of it.
The pleasure, the nuturing, the holding, the purpose... everyday history connecting us to one another.
Ruth and I are preparing for our French Muse Experience which is next week.
For more information:
We will be visiting; Isle sur la Sorgue, Avignon, Aix en Provence, Lacoste, Lagnes, Lourmarin, Bonnieux, Lauris, Le Val, Aubage and a few other places in between.