There is nothing worse than a flea market full of junky junk. There is nothing better than a flea market full of splendid artifactual junk. My favorite of the many flea markets in Paris, where je suis ici maintenant, is full of the latter, which I illustrate here in part.
Alas, and zut alors and quelle domage, etc., the one thing I wanted to find I could not. I want one of those French navy caps with the red pom-pom on the top. I found one but it was in such bad shape even I, inveterate junkophile, could not purchase it.
Nonetheless, the rest of the stuff was magnifique. And the name of the flea is . . . Vannes.