{"id":97597,"date":"2016-05-02T16:23:21","date_gmt":"2016-05-02T20:23:21","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=97597"},"modified":"2016-05-02T16:47:49","modified_gmt":"2016-05-02T20:47:49","slug":"fabric-of-our-lives-part-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2016\/05\/02\/fabric-of-our-lives-part-2\/","title":{"rendered":"Fabric of Our Lives, Part 2"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"\"<\/a>

Karl Herbsthoffer, Junge Dame im Boudoir<\/i>, 1829.<\/p><\/div>\n

Last Friday I wrote about an encounter with the platinum card\u00ad\u2013carrying elite<\/a>. But this is a two-part story, you see. For many years later, long after that glimpse into the lives of the rarefied, I found myself at the local flea market.<\/p>\n

This is a sort of addiction in my family: even when houses are being sold and divested or apartments are bursting at their meager seams or neighbors have called the city to complain about the sheds on our property (depending on the generation), we are incapable of curbing our need for \u201cbargains.\u201d We brake for thrift shops; we brake hard<\/em> for furniture on the curb; we scour the local papers for tag, yard, or garage sales.\u00a0<\/p>\n

Afterward, we like to rush home, evaluate our new find, and crow about the amount of money we\u2019ve saved on this \u201ccollectible\u201d we\u2019ve rescued. \u201cWell, our edition is a\u00a0little<\/em>\u00a0more damaged,\u201d my mom might say of a rare book after a few minutes\u2019 research on AbeBooks.com. Or, when in doubt, \u201cCan you\u00a0imagine<\/em>\u00a0what this would sell for in a Manhattan antiques store?\u201d A lot<\/em>, we all smugly agree.<\/p>\n

So there I was, at the flea market. I\u2019d had a good day, a good haul\u2014a pink glass ashtray with a molded terrier in the center; a hand towel embroidered with a friend\u2019s initial\u2014and I was making my final round when I decided to poke through a suitcase full of old linens at a particularly crummy stall. There was a mix of not-very-old tchotchkes and some square-toed 1980s pumps and a small supply of cheap jewelry. The woman kept up an urgent monologue on the merits and provenance of the various wares. She was sure to mention her willingness to \u201cdo better\u201d on the price.\u00a0<\/p>\n

My fingers touched fine cotton voile, starched stiff. It was a boudoir pillow sham.\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s old,\u201d the woman said quickly. \u201cIt\u2019s good quality.\u201d<\/p>\n

I knew it was. I knew, specifically, that it retailed for more than three hundred dollars and that the print had been designed for the Duchess of Windsor. I knew it was an emissary from a different world\u2014a world that smelled like freesia. I paid five bucks for it.\u00a0<\/p>\n

This was by far the biggest coup of my scavenging career. I should have been thrilled; a part of me was. But when I got home and removed the miniature pillowcase from my tote bag, when I laid it on the bed and looked at it, I did not feel the magic I\u2019d expected. If I was honest with myself, it was \u2026 sort of dowdy. But the fine fabric! I scolded myself. The hand-rolled edges!\u00a0This would retail for three hundred and fifty dollars! <\/em>And somewhere a tiny part of me asked, So what?<\/p>\n

Sadie Stein is contributing editor of <\/em>The Paris Review, and the <\/em>Daily\u2019s correspondent.<\/em>\u00a0<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Last Friday I wrote about an encounter with the platinum card\u00ad\u2013carrying elite. But this is a two-part story, you see. For many years later, long after that glimpse into the lives of the rarefied, I found myself at the local flea market. This is a sort of addiction in my family: even when houses are […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":178,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[13115],"tags":[22162,22163,12511,22161,6664,22164],"class_list":["post-97597","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-our-daily-correspondent","tag-bargain-hunting","tag-boudoirs","tag-city-life","tag-flea-market","tag-shopping","tag-throw-pillows"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nThe Joys of the Flea Market<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"Sadie Stein on \u201cthe biggest coup of my scavenging career.\u201d\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2016\/05\/02\/fabric-of-our-lives-part-2\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Fabric of Our Lives, Part 2 by Sadie Stein\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"May 2, 2016 \u2013 Last Friday I wrote about an encounter with the platinum card\u00ad\u2013carrying elite. 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