I have a thing for it.
Crazy truth, it is an addiction.
Whenever I see old French paper I have to stop to check it out, touch it, study it and because of it I can often tell the age just by the feel of the paper, or the type of handwriting... old letters, documents, cards, scraps have become my favorite thing to target at the brocante markets.
Name cards, invitations, announcements...
Bits of history of a story once lived. Words that echo similarities to the lives we live now.
A recorded history without knowing it would come to this time, giving us a window to glance back into seeing ourselves.
Menus from weddings, birthdays, baptisms, anniversaries...
"Hello, How are you? I have missed you. Did you see the Marie and John the other day? Unfortunately, I was not able to make the party...."
Stacks of paper that appear as artwork to me.
Being married to French Husband has made me a "Lifer" in France. When I arrived I already had a thing for old things, for example, I wore my grandmother's tattered wedding dress when I was married and had Chelsea and Sacha baptized in an antique massive bread making bowl. I am a bit, okay more than a bit nutty for old things.
A few years ago I saw an antique dealer that I have known for years. He was retiring. Last weekend I bought a book from him that was dated 1739 regarding the marriage of King Louis's daughter. It was one of the best things I have ever found. He invited me to come to his home as he knows I love old paper.
Photo via Lorna.
The amazing book I bought from the man I have called, "The Paper Guy" for years.
Books without covers, exposing a certain je ne sais quoi?
I told you... I have the Brocante Bug bad.
Please tell me you flip about something not human too? Something that makes your heart do a happy dance, and you feel like it is love, and have to remind yourself, "Hey Chickie, you know this is just a thing, you gotta take your enthusiasm down a notch or two." And your Enthusiastic Self-responds, "Shut up" in a gleeful way and keeps digging.
Shelves, boxes, baskets, drawers FULL.
I seriously doubt I can retire from that sort of passionate drive.
What rocks your clock?
We all went home with more than we could carry.