Erin and I ventured to Brooklyn Flea last weekend in search of vintage garb and the random assortment of knicks and knacks that one finds at flea markets.
The Flea is in its indoor winter home at the former Williamsburg Savings Bank, actually located in Fort Green, just across from Atlantic Terminal – which I’ve always known as “the place where you ended up if you royally screwed up the transfer at Jamaica.”
The Flea, open only on weekends, was packed enough to give it energy, but not enough that you felt you needed to carry around a supplemental oxygen tank due to a lack of air. Goods for sale range from clothing to old toys to hand-sewn American flags to OH MY GOD WORKING TYPEWRITERS!
Clackity-clack-clack-clack…there’s something very satisfying about typing on one of these bad boys. And for only a few hundred bucks, they’re not as expensive as I figured they’d be.
But I don’t have that kind of expendable cash to throw around all willie-nilly, so onwards we go.
Downstairs, more clothing, some Persian rugs and a smattering of culinary offerings from local Brooklyn restaurants.
After a few hours of bumping shoulders with Brooklynites, we surfaced for some much-needed fresh air at Prospect Park.