Brimfield Flea Market

While shopping at Brimfield Antique Market this year, my mother and I cam up with a new slogan for the affair after watching a lady walk down the street cradling a mermaid statue in her arms.

“Anything’s possible here. Buy what you love.”

I mean, where else can you find this?


Three times a summer, the otherwise sleepy farm town of Brimfield transforms itself into what is most likely the biggest flea market in New England. It’s known to be frequented by people like Martha Stewart and art directors for just about every show on television, the city people coming in from Boston and New York City looking for a deal, and then just about everybody else in the area.

I’ve gone at least once a year since middle school. When I was a kid, I stuck to the $1 to $15 jewelry, amassing quite a collection of cameos I never wore. Now, I’m in it for the big stuff. My best find to date is my kitchen table, a white, vintage tulip table I grabbed for $45. It’s one of my prized possessions.

At the first show of the year, I stuck to smaller things: a few air plants (4 for $10), a new bedspread (gifted from mumsie – thank you!) and an embroidered hand towel ($3).





Here’s a look at some of the other cool booths that were floating around this market….

This booth was super well styles and these rugs were too cute.



They day after Brimfield, I saw someone post on Instagram talking about how they wished they had bought this top globe.

This booth was so cool. It wasn’t all vintage, but everything was so well styled you almost didn’t care. The people running it had that laid back, tattooed vibe
traveling spectacular



There was a lot (like a lot) of mid century modern stuff floating around, not that I’m complaining. These chairs were a really unique twist on the trend. The sellers had reupholstered the classic shape, and they were just really interesting to look at.


The of course there was the mish mash of other stuff.




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Prickly Pig + Tips for Planting Cacti

My grandfather at the age of 86 has finally — after years and years of my mother asking — decided to move out of his house and into my parent’s house. This is a giant relief for many, many reasons.

It also means it is time to clean out his house, an old victorian that has stayed in the family for generation (we are talking more than 100 years) plus a barn. Both these space are full of stuff, neither of these places have ever been cleaned out. So far I’ve found three bowling balls, at least a half dozen tables I did not know existed, a vintage juicer and so many mouse nests.

There’s a lot of junk, but mixed in with it you’ll find a little treasurer here and there. For example, mixed in with the politically incorrect planters and ceramics-gone-wrong projects of the 80s, I found this little guy.

Prickly Pig

I call him prickly pig. The smile is pretty happy, but those eyebrows suggest something slightly more menacing. Hence, the prickly.

Not feeling very creative, I decided to give him a cactus for a back.

A prickly bag for a prickly pig

Some tips for someone looking to plant a cactus.

1. Wear gloves. Those needles hurt when you prick yourself.

2. Have toothpicks or tweezers on hand to pick the dirt out from between the needles. Since cactus use this big chunky dirt to help with the drainage, some of it is bound to get stuck in the needles.

3. Use a popsicle stick, a pencil, really anything long and narrow to help push the dirt into the pot. Especially if it is oddly shaped like this one.

Now, where to put him is the next question.


And if you were wondering, that yellow cloth — also from my grandfather’s house. Oh, and there are way, way more of these little pots.

Shelves of pots

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