Rose Bowl, episode 4. In which I fish scale new heights.

I think I've mentioned my pre-pubescent penchant for fish sticks previously, but even my adult appreciation for fresh fish has never led me to the precarious precipice of donning fisherman's gear and brandishing a fishing pole.

My love for cooking and my appreciation for fleamarkets (and concomitant collector's gaze) did lead me, however, to this epicurean gadget purchase during our Saturday morning fishing expedition at last October's Rose Bowl flea.

Now at home hanging off one of the IKEA Grundtal rails (far right between the ladles and fish spatula) in my eclectic (decoratively cluttered) dream kitchen, the Chinese fish scaler now serves a purpose more ornamental and inspirational than its intended utilitarian purpose (but it's also at hand just in case I do dive off the deep end and decide to actually go fishing).

Mari and I had stumbled onto an eclectic booth of vintage furniture, household items, and creatively crafted home decor. We also stumbled into an engaging young couple with perfectly charming fleamarket vendor personalities and a penchant for traveling similar to our own.

The husband is a talented furniture craftsman who grew up in Italy, moved to NYC and finally to LA (by way of the Big D, of course), collected a charming and talented wife along the way who herself collected and refurbished and resold a wide variety of bric-a-brac and household ephemera (my favorite).

He had cast these concrete candleholders in the perfect carry-on size for fleamarket travelers like us!

Although landing not quite light as a feather in Mari's tote, the clever combination of concrete, wood, and metal scored a perfect hat trick for us as we added the industrially charming duo to our new kitchen.

Now, I know what you're thinking when you look at my new old fish scaler (other than the fact that I will likely never scale a fresh fish in my life)... How the heck do you expect to get that through the airport without checking a bag, Lou? Way ahead of you, my friends. The following Monday we would make a quick visit to a local post office to mail said semi-sharp TSA-unfriendly weapon-like kitchen implement home in a padded mailer.

$2.94 and a trip to the post office sure beats a $25 checked-bag fee.

Had we been fleamarketing a lot closer to home, some of the vintage and rustic gardening decor Mari enjoys browsing would have wound up in our back yard.

I am always fond of browsing mid-century furniture. Not so much a fan of leaving it behind at fleamarkets, but I love admiring it, snapping a photo, and (sadly) walking away.

There was a nice variety of mid-century mod teak at a (fairly wide) range of prices on display that Saturday in the "Antique Merchandise" section of the Rose Bowl which covers nearly half the vendor space.

Truth be told, Mari and I barely managed to cover about a third of that half in the three hours we spent inching and flea-ing along.

 

The amount of knick-knack paddywhack on display coupled with the beautifully browsable grounds (and the charmingly talented couples) can be overwhelmingly enjoyable.

 

With a full bottle of water and the right weather conditions, I'm good for about three hours of flea-ing before I crash like the S. S. Minnow. My first mate and I were not quite ready to call it a day, however.

A final view from the flea and a little post-flea fleamarketing next time.