|what's a nashville flea market without boots?|
|and more boots.|
i don't do many things well, but i am good at flea markets. i'm like the rick steves of flea markets. the merlin of old stuff. so when i finally had the opportunity to escape to nashville on saturday, i cashed my last paycheck, folded down the back seats of my 4runner and hopped on i-24.
the nashville flea market in particular thrills my soul. it's where i want to be when i'm everywhere else. i daydream about it. sound ridiculous? dorky? pathetic? i accept that.
since i was 6 years old, the flea market was the destination of choice every fourth weekend of the month-- i know my way around. for instance, i know that you should never (ever) pay the asking price for anything. haggling is an art: make eye-contact. smile. wear short shorts and mascara (just kidding) (but seriously). if the price-tag says $10, confidently ask, "will you take $8 for this?" or "what's the lowest you'll go on the porcelain pig?" 90% of the time you'll walk away successful. plan ahead-- come knowing what pieces you're looking for and a car with enough cargo space to accommodate any surprise finds. also, bring cash. a fistful of dollars if you will. bring a few blank checks too if you're looking for bigger (i.e. more expensive) items. don't bring your dog, your dog's stroller, your baby, your annoying friend, your large purse, or for that matter, spencer pratt.
be on the lookout later this week for what i scored on saturday (hint: it's great stuff, folks).
*i apologize for the hipster-pic overload today. i like instagram and i had my iphone handy. get over it.