Flea Markets, Brocantes, and Second Hand Stores in France
French thrift culture is a bit different.
When we moved from New York to France, we left almost everything behind with the idea that we would buy our things used over here. When we were in cities like Paris & Lyon, the massive Marche aux puces (literally, “flea market”) were incredible, had some great deals to be had - and you could spend a fortune - but they also inspired a whole bunch of other markets and second hand buying opportunities. In the US, these stores are open 5 days a week and the volunteer ones can have odd hours, but in France, there’s a time and a place and even a season for them.
But first, you really have to understand the vocabulary. It took me months to get it, or at least what it really meant.
places without websites
It’s not just about finding furniture or oddball paintings or the €3 Le Creuset dutch oven (which, admittedly, is a bit roughed up, but also in constant use) —I mean the charm, the stories, the slow accumulation of your new life in a new place.
You can’t rush it. You can’t buy it all at once. Certain things take a bit of luck, a bit of time, and a bit of coincidence.
And a lot of it isn’t so easy to find online. France even approaches the internet differently and in the informal markets of secondhand stuff, that is truer than anywhere else.
secondhand life
France has its own rhythm about a lot of things. These are mostly one-off sales, informal and person-to-person, or they could be linked to a charity, a community, or linked to a specific occasion where neighbors get out and sell there stuff.
You see ads all over once you look for them. In New York, these sales would be on Craigslist or possibly Facebook, many brocantes and vide-greniers only show up on bulletin boards, handwritten signs on roundabouts, or on random bits of paper advertising in your local supermarket.
I haven’t seen this type of advertising in 20 years in NYC. Here, there’s a whole ecology to it.
Furnishing a place from scratch became a kind of weekly ritual. A way to explore our new city: a scavenger hunt mixed and a fascinating way to explore your new home, if you have the time.
Locale knowledge
We once arranged to buy houseplants through LeBonCoin, meeting someone in the parking lot of a Casino supermarket. Of course, this was happening in the middle of a massive protest.
The commercial center was wrapped in black tire smoke, drifting out in every direction like a compass rose. Protesters had blockaded the road with a wall of shopping carts, and fires blocked the rest.
We approached a young man leaning on a row of 30 shopping carts, clearly part of the blockade. I did my best in broken French:
“Euh… on n’est pas là pour faire les courses… c’est juste… pour des plantes.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Des plantes ?”
“Oui. Pas Casino. LeBonCoin. On a rendez-vous… pour acheter des plantes vertes.”
He paused, maybe trying to decide if this was some bizarre foreigner excuse—or just weird enough to be true. Then he shrugged and moved the column of carts aside, waving us through with an exaggerated bow.
That’s also when we learned Casino is not a casino, but a perfectly ordinary supermarket. One that apparently stays open even during nationwide protests, while everything else shuts down.
And the plants were lovely, although the guy sold them as bare-rooted cuttings, so then we had to go find dirt.
Have you furnished a home abroad—or built one piece by piece somewhere new?
I’d love to hear about your best secondhand finds, the weirdest things you’ve had to buy, or the small ways you’ve made a place feel like yours.
Keith Christiansen
