Flea for all: digging in to DFW flea markets
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Dallas Flea founder Brittany Cobb browses through vintage clothing at the Dallas Flea on April 13, 2013. The Dallas Flea is held every three months at South Side on Lamar. (Special to DFW.com/Andrew Buckley)
Posted 7:46am on Thursday, May. 30, 2013
Sometimes a rusted, vinyl dining chair from 1972 just makes sense in my … I mean your office, and no one can tell me … I mean you, otherwise. Darn it, I loved that chair. Sure, I had to tape the seat together and it cut me on the leg because the screws were rusted and, yes, it was ugly, but it was my chair. My flea find.
The find is what motivates buyers and sellers. That one unique old or new item only you have, you lovingly refurbished, that you know your customers will buy. Flea markets are about making emotional connections. What draws the buyer to an item is part materialism, part nostalgia. Old books carved into letters of the alphabet — how creative! A blue vanity with a sitting stool — my Aunt Shirley had one of those. A broken-down china hutch — a quick coat of stain and I can resell it for a profit.
There’s even a whole HGTV series, Flea Market Flip, dedicated to the art of repurposing finds at hipster flea markets. The show pits teams against each another to see who can buy, refurbish and sell with the highest profit.
For the veteran buyer or young DIYer, there are only two things you need to know about fleaing: how to spot a good deal and what to pay for it. Everything else is in the gray area of negotiation, salesmanship and that gut feeling a buyer gets when she just has to have it, no matter how tacky or grandma-chic others may find it.
Yes, flea-ers are a strange bunch: people who spend their weekends looking through old stuff, dead people’s stuff, trash for treasure. People who want to save a penny, shop for fun and come home with something fabulous with a story to tell: “I found it in an abandoned barn south of Mexia” sounds so much more interesting than “I got it half-price at Pier 1 off Carroll Street.”
And fortunately, DFW boasts its share of terrific treasures. From a rain-or-shine cattle barn to an invite-only flea market showcase for Metroplex-area enthusiasts, it’s all about the find.
The Dallas Flea
The moment I heard the acoustic guitar player singing Greensleeves, I knew I was in a very Dallas flea market. The plethora of Toms shoes was also a dead giveaway. So were the Saturday-morning skinny-jeans girls venturing into South Side on Lamar, a retail and residential complex across the street from Dallas Police headquarters — a more urban neighborhood for this very vanilla crowd.
At the entrance, I find Brittany Cobb handing out bottles of water. A Dallas-based freelance writer, editor and interior designer, she created the Dallas Flea three years ago. The quarterly, invite-only market is less junk and more show. “I was trying to get a more curated mix of artisans that attract that shopper,” she says. That shopper in Dallas is probably wearing Toms and skinny jeans and will plop down about a hundred dollars in a day.
Vendor Ashley Crim of McKinney wants to attract that person. Her Texas Trash Jewelry is gaudy grandma in a good way. A rack of old lady slips at her booth catches my attention. Crim is selling the redesigned slips for between $65 and $95. She also collects keys, locks, purses — “old stuff that people would throw away and I would repurpose it to something else,” says Crim, who hands me a flier for an upcoming event in Anna. “It’s stuff you’re not going to find somewhere else.” And like most vendors here, Crim is online and marketing herself and her next show. Vendors at the Dallas Flea sell finished products and are all about Etsy (the eBay for crafters), Facebook and business cards.
Times have changed since flea markets first became popular in the late 1800s. One of the first flea markets was First Monday Trade Days in Canton, which started in the 1850s as a livestock swap but has grown into a massive outdoor flea empire. Flea markets now cover a broad spectrum, from bazaarlike junk dealers hawking old stereos and elotes, to indoor antique malls. The clientele has also expanded to include urban recyclers and creative couples willing to make something old new again. Flea markets like the one in Dallas are geared toward more affluent, trendy shoppers. Other markets target DIY-ers, those into country cool or those looking for a swap-meet feel.
“We can’t be a Canton,” nor do they aim to be, says Cobb, gesturing to the 70 or so carefully selected vendors. “[This] is a far more edited show. Here, you want something from everyone.”
She’s got a point. Sure, the Dallas Flea might be overrun with hipsters, but each vendor is different. Each booth makes me (I mean you) say: “Ooh, I want that.” Or, “Ooh, that’s so cool.” Everything is just that unique and interesting, which can’t be said for each stall in a massive open-air market like Canton or even Traders Village in Grand Prairie — much as they have their own particular charms.
Most of the vendors at the Dallas Flea can accommodate credit cards; most are young females, and so is the clientele. No tools. No gently used TVs. No guy offering to tint your windows. These vendors must apply to be included and are selected for their unique, handcrafted designs.
“There are food trucks and music to keep Dad and kids happy, too,” says Cobb, who plans to expand the Dallas Flea in the fall. The event will be moving to a new facility in the same neighborhood, and she hopes to expand to monthly shows.
That’s good news for new shopper and Etsy seller Crispin Deneault, who is standing at Vanessa Pope’s booth, Salvagenation. Pope is selling binder-size letters she and her husband bought from an old casino in Oklahoma. Swarms of shoppers are searching for letters. “I can’t find an ‘F,’” one woman complains.
“Here is where you feel comfortable spending the money,” says Deneault, who usually earmarks about a $150 budget. “For those of us that like to touch and feel, this is a great place.”
