In July 2010 I started working for a megalomaniac boss at an enormous financial services company in Bristol; to say I loathed it, and her, would be to take a very large swig from the cup of understatement. But then I befriended Anita (and Frenchie and Yoma) and things no longer seemed so bleak. Every day at 8.00am, without fail, Anita and I would have the ‘talk me through your outfit’ conversation: where items had been bought, how much for and who had the better bargain. A life-long friendship, forged in the fashion trenches, was born.
What surprised me most about these conversations was that many of Anita’s items came from car boot sales; having sold antiques, she knew of every antique fair and car boot sale within cooee of Bristol, along with selling and bargaining tips, which she very generously shared with me. Sunday mornings would never be the same again.
Along with my darling friends, high street shopping and proximity to some of the greatest cities on earth, car boots are what I miss most about the UK. So imagine my excitement when I saw an advert in Saturday's paper for a local car boot sale; they’re not popular here and I think it would be fair to say my expectations were paddling around in the shallow end.
And okay, it wasn’t the best: Anita would have laughed at how small and ill equipped it was, how shabby some of the goods on offer. BUT, ever the magpie, I managed to find four paperbacks (one for 10 cents) and a set of cool vintage pool balls (to go with the set I snaffled at the Bath Car Boot). On the plus side, it starts at 9.00am so there’s no need to wake at sparrow’s fart as we used to in Bristol, or drive an hour to get there.
Had a yarn with the organiser, a Yorkshireman who misses UK car boots almost as much as I do; he’s hoping this will become a regular event till the end of summer. I hope so too...
* Let's be clear, the above pic is NOT from yesterday's Porirua car boot, but from the UK