(more) Confessions of a Thrift Store Junkie

Last Saturday, I ascended the Mount Olympus of flea markets. Namely, the Brooklyn Flea Market in Fort Greene.  Getting there was exciting due to my taxi driver's lack of a GPS, map or street smarts.  I would've done better with a ganga smoking sherpa. But when we finally arrived, I instantly knew it was worth it due to the presence of an ATM at the outdoor market's entrance. For those of you who don't grasp the significance, a machine that spews endless cash at a flea market is like a brothel that has a going out of business sale. Anything goes!

The flea market was one square block of chaos surrounded by a chain-linked fence. Turkish rugs to my left, vintage dresses to my right, grandmother jewelry all over the place. Bicycles, cameras, typewritters, bow ties, handmade hats, 1950s kitchenware, shabby chic furniture and ecclectic curios. In retrospect, there was nothing there I hadn't seen at dozens of other flea markets with one exception. The people-watching was world class. You want to know what will be in fashion two years from now? Check out what kids are wearing in Brooklyn today. (Jumbo Afros, mismatched plaids, shoes from outer space.)

Because New Yorkers are demanding and because no one's more demanding than a Brooklynite, food vendors were on top of their game hawking gourmet thin-crust pizzas; hot dogs with mango relish, onions, cilantro and peanuts; and pulled pork sliders topped with kimchi. I walked out of the flea market with a gleaming copper cuff for $15 and a desire to loiter awhile longer in Fort Greene, a pretty neigborhood of tree-lined streets and majestic brownstones.  A block down Lafayette Street, we comandeered a sidewalk table at Olea Taverna, a Mediterranean cafe with a Turkish twist. The sun was bright. The air was crisp. And the parade of the Young and the Restless was enthralling.

For more info, visit www.BrooklynFlea.com