Flea Market Hunting
For some, normal upstanding people, Sunday is a day to relax with yourself or your loved ones, do the laundry, and catch up on reading. For us Sundays are a day to shop! It's a different kind of Gods day; the Thrift Gods. Sundays are a day for yard sales, estate sale browsing, thrift shop picking and of course, flea markets! The Grand Mother of all flea markets is the Rose Bowl. We learned this quickly and continue to acknowledge it as we travel around the western United States in search of goods. So let us tell you 'bout our best friend...
The Rose Bowl is massive! It can be a little overwhelming if you just show up without a plan of attack. You have to know what you're there to buy; otherwise, it'll be a rabbit hole of endless wandering. I am envious of those who stroll into the market at 11 am for a hot dog, a beer and an arm stroll on last night’s beau. It would be my perfect date (cough, cough). Often, you bump into celebrities and PYT's lackadaisically looking for a new coffee table. While Mia and I (along with other buyers and treasure hunting gurus) must arrive super early - barely injecting enough coffee down our throat to open our eyes. There are rules to this game, and when played correctly you can score big time!
Going to the Rose Bowl is kind of like going to Disneyland. At first you’re all excited to get inside and see all the magic. Then as the day goes on, more and more people show up and it gets super crowded and everyone is hot and bothered in some way and all the babies start crying at once. At this point, it’s time to pack up and head to lunch with your two best friends (in my case Mia and a glass of wine). No matter how successful we feel at this point, a mediocre day at the Rose Bowl is like a day of tequilladrinkinglittershittingunicorns anywhere else. It is always worth it and always inspirational for these two mountain town gals.