Creepy Things at a French Street Market

In Paris, somewhere between Les Puces (the Cadillac of flea markets that you see in movies) and selling-hot-stuff-from-inside-your-trench-coat, there is the the neighborhood street market.

These markets pop up once in awhile, and there is a lot of clothing, mismatched dishware, shoes, purses, toys, jewelry, records, small electronics, anything small enough to get there in the back of a car.

You think I’m kidding about hot-stuff-inside-your-coat? One guy’s sole contribution to the market was a single set of silverware on a towel on the sidewalk. Buyer beware.

This market was particularly high in creepiness. It wasn’t the market’s theme of the day, but there was enough creepy stuff going on to make that the theme of this blog post.

Thread-bare teddy bear. In a pot.

Blind baby.

Bear in a chair. He doesn’t look too creepy now, but every few minutes he moves. He extends his arms and draws them in again, hugging an invisible someone. I almost jumped out of my skin. No, he doesn’t look happy about it.

Snake-head brush made out of an antler.

Framed eye chart. This would look great on your dining room wall!

Pile of glasses. Where are their owners?

Head on a stick. Among the lamps, she stares into space. Waiting. For what? Nobody knows.

​Set of kitchen utensils with deer-foot handles. When Meemaw brings out the Christmas turkey, Papaw can carve it with these babies.

This photo doesn’t look too bad until you notice that Ken is in a plastic bag. Tied up. What did Ken and the other bagged dolls do? Are they being punished? They spend most of their lives jumbled up in a box under the bed with Barbie and Madge. What have they done to be treated this way? It must have been pretty bad.

At first this looks like your standard nude, right? No. It’s needlepoint. That’s right, needlepoint. Imagine how much you’d flinch every time you plunged the needle into her tender parts. Ouch.

Is it Roger Francoise, or Roger and Francoise? Are those birth and death dates, or a twenty-fifth wedding anniversary commemorative plate? Don’t worry, Roger and/or Francoise! You are not forgotten! Well, even though your direct descendants forgot you and gave your special plate to the junkmonger to be sold in a street sale, we who saw your plate will not forget you! We, total strangers, acknowledge you! You are valuable! Or you were. You are unique! We salute you!

What the heck.

Plate full of rusty old pen nibs. Who needs these? They’re really sharp. And rusty. What are you going to do with them, you weirdo?

And last but not least, a box of rusty saws.

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What about you? What’s the creepiest thing you ever saw in a garage sale/estate sale/yard sale?

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