Every September I have a tradition: waking up at 5am on an early September Saturday and heading to Massachusetts for the Brimfield Flea Market.
Getting up at the crack of dawn and driving 4 hours the largest flea market in America makes this month for me. Going to a flea market is like taking a step back in time for a couple of hours, I love rummaging through small junk tables, hoping and wishing that you’ll find a gem in there somewhere, talking to the sellers and finding out the story behind the most obscure item and scoring rare items that you know you will never come across ever again in your lifetime.
I’m not going to lie, Brimfield is tiring, especially if you try and squeeze it into one day like we did, however if you stop half way for their pilgrim sandwich and apple cider doughnuts, I’m sure you’ll be just fine.
This year at Brimfield I picked up some crystal bought from a seller whose mother has been collecting them for years. A Swedish wool jumper bought from a lady who came from Maine, vintage Victorian trims that I have a bad habit of collecting every time I see them, and old McCall pattern pieces for the winter days that are approaching where I stay in and sew for a hobby.To me, this flea market gets better and better every year!
To find out more about Brimfield’s go here.
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