The three of us pile some change onto the counter. The flea market cashier counts it and stamps our hands. Next.
Down the first aisle, M spots a bicycle and is off. When I catch up a small crowd has gathered. Other vendors as well as passersby are inspecting the bike and advising M of the superior qualities as well as drawbacks. After some discussion, she agrees to a price. The group nods in approval; this is a good deal for her.
Winding our way through the maze of tables and displays, a flash of deep red on a clothes rack catches my eye. I reach for the sleeve. Nice quality. I move the hanger…no, could it be…? I locate the tag. Yes! “It’s Halston!” Not just any Halston and certainly not *cough* Halston Heritage. This is Halston of the 1970s heyday. As worn by style icon Bianca Jagger (before everyone had a stylist) and found in every fashion maven’s closet.
I knew it would fit before I put it on. M loved it on me, “That’s perfect for you! It’s gorgeous!” I sashayed down the catwalk between the tables, side-stepping the crates and power tools. J observed, “It’s a little long.” We turned to him in unison, “That’s the style!” He tried again, “Red is nice.” Sigh.
Thrilled at my good fortune, I looked around for the vendor. Then I spotted her: an attractive grey-haired lady watching me. I knew this was her coat. It was in pristine condition: how long had she prized it and what made her sell it at a flea market? I decided not to ask. She offered me a reduced price seeing that it was going to a good home. I handed her some folded-up bills, “You can have my grocery money,” I said, happily, “I’ll take very good care of this coat.” She knew I would.
My delighted self belonged on the cover of Vogue: draped in my red hot Halston treasure, holding a styrofoam bowl of instant ramen noodles.
[Photo: Bianca Jagger & Mick Jagger. Please notify me of any credit/copyright.]