The sun is cresting up over the mountains surrounding LA as we pull onto the winding freeway toward Pasadena. The air is crisp and cool, cars zip past us on their way to what ever important event they must have going on, but we enjoy the sun and the scenery on our smooth Sunday morning drive.
By the time we arrive, throngs of people have already come and gone, having rifled through the venders wares. Car after car parks and unloads, plunders and packs back up, taking their purchases with them. The tents wind, a sea of old and new, thrown together in dissident harmony, forming the worlds largest flea market in the heart of California. Every style, from every genre of persona has turned out to sift through the racks of vintage, the boxes of old, and display cases of antique beauties. The fashion blogger, the photographer, the trend setter, the hipster, the parent, the grand parents, all forming one great mass of scavengers.
We enter through the tall gates infront of the great stadium and were immediately absorbed in the chaos and wonder of it all. Tables of bags, racks of belts, fabric strewn about; it was both inspiring and overwhelming. Within minutes we were tempted to make a purchase and we very quickly realized the danger that could lay buried within.
Vintage Crystal chandeliers glisten in the mid morning sun, scattering rays of dancing light all about them. Cowhide rugs, vintage furniture, one of kind hand made pieces, not to mention the rows and rows of clothing and boxes of jewelry that vied for our attention.
In the end we left with only a few purchases under arm, but also with the knowledge that we will be going back. Thank the good Lord above the Rose Bowl Flea Market only happens once a month!