In the beginning (twenty years ago) when I became an antique dealer, or as I like to say when the "brocante bug bite me", I went at it alone.
It started when our garage was full, I decided to sell my wares at the flea market in Marseille.
So four in the morning, with barely ten French words in my mouth I set up my stand.
I sold out by seven a.m..
Which meant I was free to go around and buy more to sell, which I did.
The brocante bug bit.
When someone wants to buy, and another someone wants to sell, the language is not complicated, business always works.
I was hooked. Our garage is never empty.
Flash forward: Years later while wallpapering at midnight (Do I ever do things at the normal time of day?) the cute wooden antique ladder I was standing on broke and I fell shattering my wrist.
French Husband seeing that I was miserable, not because I had shattered my wrist but because I could not drive to the brocante started to drive me to the brocantes. As I could not manage to pay for the antiques I was buying with one hand, he took my purse and managed that too. AND because I could barely carry things with one hand, he started to collect, carry and pack the car.
Six years later he still is my Hero Sherpa (Super) Power.
A silver lining can be found in almost anything.
Thank you for being the best part of why I blog.