By Katie Stobbart (The Cascade) – Email
Print Edition: June 3, 2015
The smell of old floors and veteran smokers with a hint of canteen food and sunshine instantly transports me back to many childhood Sundays when, while others may have been smoothing their skirts over their knees and swinging their legs gently to ward off the tingles, my family went to the flea market. I got my first bike there, umpteen books, and the better part of my Pokémon card collection.
Flea markets are named for the French marché aux puces, a caveat that shabby secondhand goods might contain pests you wouldn’t want to bring home with you. There’s no need to fear fleas at modern markets, but the name stuck and such venues still often carry the vestiges of that particular vibe. Something about the combination of kitsch and the average clientele keeps it endearingly low-brow; there’s none of the modern, “vintage” boutique chic — this is the real deal, a strange menagerie of stuff that’s been sitting out decades in some basement, attic, or stagnating parlour. Part of the partiular pleasure of skimming flea market tables both outside and in is the promise of hidden treasure: one person’s junk, and all that.
With the progression of time, the old has made new neighbours, with local entrepreneurs taking advantage of the low table price and moderate to high foot traffic on mornings which usually see closed storefronts city-wide. It has become cleaner — for one thing, people don’t smoke inside anymore. And, as long time seller Margie Lovatt explains, the odours of the place have changed with shifting ownership.
“You don’t smell the horses and cows in here anymore,” she says, a chuckle erupting. “They have a new owner, and he’s so, so good. He’s cleaned the whole place up.”
Lovatt, or “Aunt Margie,” has been a flea market staple for nearly 40 years. A WWII veteran, she turns 92 this July.
“I used to go to the old one when it was at the Tradex, before they built the Tradex. That was my first experience; my husband and I did that.” Margie is retired now, but still comes every weekend to sell a variety of tastebud-tempting fudge and other sweets.
The market is resplendent with plants, produce, books, wares both modern and vintage, clothing, candles … just about anything you can think of, including services.
“Anything sold has to be legal.” That’s the only real rule, according to Rod Stoner, a flea market staff member. “No stolen items, no knock-off product, no outdated food or anything … it’s a mix of different stuff: new and used, old, and services [like] massaging and body art.”
There’s also a key cutter and engraver; Gordie has operated in the far back corner of the market for nearly 11 years. Like Margie, he is retired, his weekly set up a kind of hobby. Gordie didn’t have much to say about atmosphere, but he did note that market-goers aren’t spending as much now as they used to.
“Money is pretty hard to come by, and people are keeping an eye on every cent,” he says. “People don’t want to pay a heckuvalot for items that are valued at a fair amount of money.”
Maybe this is why there were more empty tables inside this week than in my memory of the place, and certain long-time vendors I remember have been noticeably absent a few weeks in a row.
“Now, talk to grumpy over here!” Gordie says cheerfully, gesturing to another regular seller across the aisle. Dave, whose table holds bottled ships, wooden planes and cars, and boxes of records, agrees that business has decreased over the years.
“It seems to be going downhill … I think what’s killing it is the bidding wars on Facebook and the internet,” he explains. He has been at the Abbotsford flea market for five years, and also sells at other markets, like the one at Cultus Lake.
Despite being perhaps less successful than it used to be, new entrepreneurs are looking to the market as an opportunity to bring otherwise web-based businesses to a physical location. Karl Lundgren has been to a few markets for various business ventures, but May 31 marked his first day at the Abbotsford location selling earthquake emergency kits.
“This is the first time I’ve done something with a bit of a higher price-tag on it, so we’ll see how that goes,” he said at about 10 a.m., noting that a lot of foot traffic happens between then and 1 p.m. “So far so good.”
For Lundgren, who has also sold jerseys and create-your-own children’s books at the flea market, that traffic makes it worth the price of a Sunday morning.
“[The flea market] is a great resource for any small business to sell because it’s so cheap to set up a table, so it’s really just your time,” he said.
Stoner explains that it ranges from $18 to $29 to rent a table, depending on location inside or outside. The cheapest tables are in the middle of the action indoors; the most expensive are outside in the warm weather in the south lot of Ag Rec.
Missing these days from the flea market is Chuck, who has manned the PA system for years, announcing special deals or lost children in the same booming, auctioneer-like voice. Chuck died recently, and the lack of his presence is felt, according to Stoner.
“We really miss him. He was a big part of the market and the whole flavour here,” Stoner says.
The flea market is open every Sunday from 6 a.m. to 4 p.m. at the Ag Rec building on Haida Drive, a stone’s throw from Rotary Stadium.
