Ciblek Mania

When I was a kid I had the uncanny ability to slip out the door to school wearing the most bizarre things without my mother noticing.  I'll never forget the time I came home wearing a plethora of my favorite items only to have my mother screech/gasp in horror, "Carrie you did not wear that to school did you?!?" I couldn't understand the problem with combining a red velour fitted half zip, skinny black denim and fuschia socks.  Or how about a purple chenille v-neck sweater, turquoise corduroy trousers and red socks?  What's the big deal, mom?  

To this day red and purple is a color combo that always catches my eye.  Last month I hit the jackpot of all jackpots at the flea market when I discovered not only the Eight Dollar Pants (yes caps are necessary), but also the most beautiful vintage 70's Missoni-esque halter dress.  Try to envision me jumping up and down while various onlookers stare from a safe distance.  It shouldn't be too hard if you're a regular reader.  I'm just going to spill it:  I wish I could turn back time.  I want to wear old school vintage treasures that would make Farrah proud.  I no longer want to pay more than $15 for anything.  My name is Carrie and I am an addict...flea markets are my poison.

Prepare for picture onslaught 2011.

What can I tell you?  It's Sunday night as I type this and my wrist is feeling slightly better.  In fact it's already seizing up and I'm only on sentence number two.  So much for that idea.  Pardon me while I pull myself together for a quick weekend rundown:  slept for hours with windows open and a light breeze blowing, ate pint after pint of raspberries, threw a few more things in the closet purge pile, watched waaaaaaay too much Dateline and am contemplating joining the FBI, and on Friday night seated someone at a table at the Chef's restaurant when everyone else was busy with other customers (where's my tip? hehe). 

Things are going well for him--so far so good as the saying goes.  It's incredibly exciting to watch it all play out from the sidelines.  The crazy start-up hours have left me with a lot of time on my hands and even though there are plenty of things I could be doing *ahem cleaning* somehow I'm just taking a moment to do nothing much.  It feels nice to pause and regroup for the first time in over a year.  Last Sunday I woke up with hours of free time and instead of racing off on an errand rolled down to the flea market to take a gander.  More like a jackpot.  There were so many treasures to be found that day.  What was supposed to be a simple jaunt turned into a 3 hour marathon.  I left with bag filled with 70's vintage gems--amongst them these $8 pants.  Yes I said EIGHT DOLLAR PANTS.  My own little dream come true.

~Outfit details:  Hat-Hat Attack, Vest-H&M, Chambray Blouse-Gap, Belt-Anthropologie,

Pants-Vintage, Sunnies-Target, Bracelet-Brooklyn Thread~

Who ever let these go?  WHO?? I spotted them after pilfering through racks and racks of

crazy ol' 70's dresses and skirts.  Unable to believe my eyes I screamed out, 'HOW MUCH?!?'

while a young Hispanic guy laughed hysterically and said the word 'eight'.  

Unable to contain myself I screamed incredulously, 'EIGHT? EIGHT DOLLARS?,' 

as he nodded wildly.  He had a live one.

'SOLD!!!,' is the final thing I remember hollering while rooting for my wallet.

Somewhere in flea market land the word loco was used a lot that day.

They're the perfect pants for spotting shed snail shells in the dirt.  

Eye of the Tiger.  

For some reason I feel like saying, 'Ahoy Matey' every time I look at this picture.  

Land ahead?

Off to continue resting my wrist and staring at the eight dollar pants.  Let's see how long this can go on for.

We got a late start on Sunday, but decided to head over to the local flea market to take a quick peek anyway.  Suffice it to say a couple days of pouring rain held crowds at bay, but there remained some interesting cats to see (did you catch Sunday's post?) as well as a lot of really cool finds in amongst the junk.  I'm sorry, but I have to call a spade a spade.  I mean is anyone really interested in a 25 year old faded out plastic Garfield that's missing a leg?  Anyone? Anyone?  

Thanks to brisk temperatures there were very few people perusing the racks, so I was able to take my time.  Somewhere in there I think I caught it:  the flea market bug.  The thrifting fever (not to be mistaken with Bieber fever just to be clear).  Second, third and fourth hand mania.  Whatever you want to call it there was a moment of clarity where I realized I'm finally getting the hang of this, and could actually select and get excited about picking up a couple things.  Okay one thing, but there were almost 5.  And 2 days later I'm actually regretting the 4 things I left behind.  Can you imagine??