In Which a Fantasy and a Legend are Revealed

(10/29/22) One of my favorite movies of the last 10 years is Woody Allen’s “Midnight in Paris.” Say what you will about the controversial director, he has a true gift for creating idyllic and somewhat timeless settings in his movies, full of beautiful, well-to-do characters living their pampered, sometimes troubled, yet fantastic lives. “Midnight in Paris” was filmed in some of the most recognizable locations throughout the city, as well as others a bit more obscure, such as the stairs of the ancient Church of St. Étienne du Mont, which feature in several scenes with lead actor Owen Wilson. Another location that really caught my eye was the site of a Parisian flea market, loaded with unique bibelots and gorgeous antiques.

After reading reviews of the movie that described the location of the flea market as the Marché aux Puces de Saint Ouen, I became fascinated by the Marché, as my research revealed this to be one of the largest flea markets IN THE WORLD! This time, I have worked a trip to the Marché into our itinerary, so we head out on Saturday morning. I’m still speaking in whispers at this point, but otherwise I’m feeling fine. I don’t have anything special in mind to buy, I just want to check it out. Bob’s lofty goal is to find a sweater and socks.

The ride to St. Ouen is easy, only 15 minutes on Métro Line 4 to Porte de Clignancourt, situated just outside the Boulevard Périphérique, the Paris version of a Beltway. The direction of the flea market is evident upon exiting the Métro – just follow the crowds.

We enter the market by choosing one of several different alley-wide walkways and immediately find ourselves immersed in a tunnel of fabric -- clothing vendors on both sides, all seemingly selling the same products, all very affordable, very bon marché. I couldn’t speak to the quality, although I can only assume that, based on the abundance of brand name logos, we’re just talking cheap knock-offs. Making eye contact with anyone or showing any level of interest in a product is a mistake, as the vendors take that as an invitation to launch into their most pressurized sales pitch. Bob quickly realizes that he won’t find the sweater he had in mind, but he does home in on a table full of socks selling for 2 euros per 3-pack. They might as well give them away!

Maneuvering through what feels like more than a mile of clothing vendors is exhausting, so when we happen upon a block of restaurants, we decide to take a break for lunch before forging ahead. The lunch is tasty, but fairly forgettable as our focus returns to the endless alleys of kiosks, booths and tables. In many places, obviously used items of all kinds, more succinctly described as junk, are scattered on the ground with no sense of organization at all, and the smartly dressed and groomed clothing vendors have given way to a bedraggled assemblage clearly desperate to make a buck, or a euro. In an effort to distance ourselves from this motley crew, we choose an alley that leads off in a new direction and are suddenly surrounded by just the same types of unique items that were on display in “Midnight in Paris,” from ornate dishes, silverware and silver trays to mirrors, lamps, delicate porcelain figurines and massive ceramic statues. We see an antique tin rocket, a rickety old bicycle connected to an equally rickety propeller, and warehouses of every imaginable garden ornament, including a life-sized rearing horse.

The focus and quality of items take a turn for the considerably higher end, when we enter an alley that immediately gives off an ambiance of exclusivity. We are now surrounded by upscale, haut de gamme jewelry, housewares, and artwork. One dealer specializes in delicate, hand-held fans. When I inquire as to the general price range for a fan, thinking I could possibly find a gift for my step-daughter who is a fan fanatic, I am abruptly brought back to reality. Prices for fans start at over 1,000 euros, he says. I cough and sputter and awkwardly back myself out of his glass-case-lined booth, with apologies. “Who buys this stuff?” Bob mutters. We both agree that we are true appreciators of fine art as long as we don’t have to see the price tags.

We have now apparently reached the boundary of the market, as we step out of the fine art, luxury item alleyway into an open area next to a city street. We spot a shiny, black Mercedes at the curb with a neatly dressed man standing on the driver’s side. He is clearly the driver – more precisely, the chauffeur. A tall, slender man with salt-and-pepper hair, his back turned to us, is reaching into the back seat. “I just need to grab my camera,” he’s saying, in slightly accented English. This just has to be someone famous, I think; something about him is familiar. Just then I glance at Bob and watch as his eyes widen, a little smile and a somewhat baffled expression crossing his face. Turning back, not five feet away from me, I make eye contact with James Bond himself, the legendary Pierce Brosnan. Much too slow to react with a clever comment or an introduction, let alone a quick snapshot, I simply watch dumbfounded as he strides by and heads directly into the alleyway we had just stepped out of.

And just like that, today’s Paris experience has encompassed the breadth of humanity, from the downtrodden junk sellers to an international film star shopping for priceless treasures. And tomorrow, what’s next? Clearly, anything can happen here in the City of Light.