Text by Ann Tornkvist

“May I sit down?” I ask.

“As long as you get up again,” Monsieur Volfinger responds.

His stubbly cheeks pull back as he smiles. I sink into the welcoming chair, letting my fingertips caress the small cracks in the brown leather. Volfinger bought the chair in Copenhagen and drove it down to his store at the sprawling St. Ouen flea market in northern Paris. The chair is beautiful – too beautiful, too expensive. I wander on.
The odd assortment of stores selling antique furniture, vintage paraphernalia and discount sportswear lies parallel to the fast-paced, multi-lane ring road that circles central Paris. It’s an industrial setting where diverse, often-stunning remnants of France’s recent and distant past are for sale. In a secondhand shop I try a pair of old Levi’s in a makeshift booth made from an old curtain. Outside on the street, sneakers of all brands and colors brush the cobblestones. Hip hop from a neighboring booth drowns out the twittering of birds that herald spring approaching.
Looking down at the Levi’s I’m trying, I see the threadbare material around the knees. Secondhand shopping triggers fantasizing: who wore this, when, where, how and in the company of whom? Twenty Euros later I fantasize about how they’ll look with high heels.

A sprinkle of charm and diplomacy will often lower prices, unheard of in central Paris. It’s a small world apart – exotic and photogenic. One shop sells Americana, Zippos, vinyl records and a stars-and-stripe bikini. Outside a vintage clothing store a bulldog yawns lazily, a red scarf tied around his neck. A canary-yellow ball gown sways in the wind. Among the grey cement structures, a small brick house covered in ivy hides mahogany and gilded mirrors.

From art deco to baroque, from Verner Panton to Reebok socks, from dogs in porcelain to Victorian blouses – look, bargain, buy. Enjoy.