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The Art of Buying
Shopping in the open market needs not only talent, but also knowledge.
I recall the day several years ago when my former mother-in-law initiated me into the art of treasure hunting in antique markets. To celebrate, I bought a delicate china teapot, which seemed the rarest object I'd ever possessed. Gazing for the hundredth time at my new purchase, I finally abandoned myself to that strange joy, collector's bliss.
Since then, I've always kept an eye open for flea markets, and I've learnt that sizing the stalls up requires skill. Informed taste, a keen eye, patience, tactics and timing when moving in for the kill are essential. Don't go in the hope of discovering a price­less object at a low price; the right frame of mind is to acquire pieces just because you like them.
Stalls sell anything from old clothing and discarded knick-knacks to rare prints and books, china, glass, clocks and an infinite range of other enchanting I collectable items.
Buyers can be observed among the market stalls, peering and poking in every corner. It's as if they're sleepwalking. When someone really wants to buy something, they may be thinking so hard that they wouldn't recognise a close friend.
Bargaining demands disciplined strategy. First of all, keep quiet. On the day of my initiation as a buyer, I saw a charming 19th century musical box. «It's wonderful!» I exclaimed. My mother-in-law gave me a strange look, then dragged me behind a big grandfather clock. «You've just managed to double the price,» she said – all too accurately.
Since then, I've perfected a cold-blooded stalking style when pursuing the object of my desire. Pretending to be indifferent, I wander round the stalls and, like a hunting hound, start sniffing out my prey. Smiling graciously, I ask politely for the price of something I'm not really interested in, testing the seller. The price is usually stacked up straight away, only to come down to a reasonable level after a bit of bargaining. This is the time to make a subtle move for what you're really after. The biter can be bitten, of course. Once, I spotted what looked like an early edition of Rudyard Kipling's The Jungle Book. The bookseller assured me it was a first edition. I felt like a seasoned connoisseur, so I bought it. It looks very nice in my bookcase, but it turned out not to be a first edition after all.