The Poor Writers Go to Brooklyn Flea Market and I Search for Toys


We headed to the Brooklyn Flea Market this Sunday because we wanted to find treasures, possibly find something vintage, possibly something with history, possibly a Pokemon card (which was my goal, essentially). We ended up almost getting run over by the bike race (cough, cough, Devin) and making friends with the Dough guy (Imani). We did find tons of treasures too, but we just didn’t buy them.

It was a nice day to do it. The writerly weirdoes we are loved the oncoming storm and semi-rain as we sat and ate on the cement ground. My allergies were hell, but it didn’t get in the way of me enjoying the day. I was just more mucus-y about it.

We found a collection of really random things, like wooden spools or empty tobacco tins. We sorted through racks of second hand lace dresses, which prompted an interesting story idea for Imani, Devin looked over old maps for her walls, and the sentimental part of me went through wooden drawers full of toys, feeling nostalgic. I did try to find Pokemon cards (no such luck) but also a Demetri action figure.

Yes, I mean Demetri from Anastasia the animated film from the 90’s. Why? It’s one of my biggest regrets that child me lost him during my sister’s middle school band recital. I had him in my back pocket along with a mini-Barbie from McDonald’s. I lost both after making them reenact the scene from Titanic, using the performance program as the iceberg. The couple fell out of my chair, I think, and a part of me always keeps an eye out for him when I come across toys in Goodwill, garage sales, and flea markets. I already found a replacement for that Barbie a few years later, leading me to hold out hope just a little longer.

Now when I go to second hand shops, I also like to check classic books sometimes to see if there’s a name or message or sometimes I just buy an extra copy of a Jane Austen book because I like to have several copies about. I think that people have a natural tick, sort of like that go-to or what-if thought when it comes to second hand searches. This could just be me being romantic about the entire thing — totally possible, considering my interest for serendipity — but my end all, be all is Demetri.

I don’t know what will happen when I find him. I don’t know what condition or at what cost. I certainly don’t know where the rest of his play set is — it’s somewhere in my parents’ basement — but I feel like finding him would just be plain wonderful. It’s not a big regret, obviously, but it’s sort of hopeful that he’s out there. I found the Barbie at least. I might not even find him. In a way that sounds like it makes the regret worst, but is it odd to say that’s what makes it even more shiny as a sentiment? It’s essentially a dead end. I could eBay it for a quicker result, I know, but the looking is satisfying and worrying and downright funny to me.

I want to find him one day, but then where would the fun be in rifling through bins of old dollhouse furniture and boxes of trolls?

We ended up spending our money eating at the Brooklyn Flea Market. Sure there were vintage maps and cool bags and jewelry, but we were ready to make it rain on tacos and burgers, rather than an old school typewriter, despite wanting those real bad.

We walked around pretending, which is the best thing to do given our light pockets. We pretended we had a cool loft office space that needed an S-shaped chair for writing. We pretended that we needed metal bric-a-brac to decorate. We hankered for an imaginary space to imaginarily run this blog and write and shoot the shit. We hankered to the point that it’s almost depressing that we left the Flea with only doughnuts in our hands, but then again we love doughnuts. Lots.

Best of all, while meandering around Bedford Avenue, we found ten dollars on the ground. Imani thought it was a trick. Devin hesitated. I picked it up. A guy nearby claimed it was his, but he didn’t do anything about it. We used that money to buy three tiny notebooks, one for each of us to use as we will. (Mine will be my smell journal.)

Red for Imani, blue for Devin, and yellow for me.

It’s annoyingly cute.


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