Shopping has never been my preferred way of spending a Saturday afternoon. Not at a mall, a strip shopping center, a Costco or car dealer. And certainly not at a flea market. Sigh. Yuk. Gimme shelter.

The very term is a giant turnoff. More than once, I’ve asked myself what “flea” and “market” have in common? Fun fact: The origin of “flea market” comes from the 19th-century French phrase “marche aux puces” which means “market of fleas.”

It speaks of hand-me-downs like old furniture, which, many believed, was crawling with fleas. It comprised a locus of lingering aromas of attics and moldy cellars.

Assuredly, then, flea markets have never been a thing. That is, until this summer. Life, being about motion and evolution, leads to a change in perceptions. Discoveries are ours for the taking,

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