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It was a bingo sourcing day. The kind of day that felt like I was in a gold mine. The prices were right, the objects there to found, and the checklist was being crossed off steadily.
At the first brocante I ever visited, years ago, I found a postcard of a woman impeccably dressed, carrying eggs in a basket, water from the fountain in a zinc watering can, and vegetables gathered in the crisp white apron she wore.
The framed postcard was one of the first things I ever bought at a brocante. Its worth was never the point....
I came back from the antique fairs sightly tattered. All I wanted to do was take a cool bath, have something to eat, and go to bed.
The moment I opened the refrigerator, I wanted to climb inside and shut the door. It was so wonderfully cool. Of course, I didn’t do it—but I did wish, for a moment, I were a corn on the cob so that I...
