I think bootfairs are uniquely British. They’re similar to flea markets but different. Everyone rocks up in their vehicles, puts out a rickety decorating table then flogs their unwanted stuff from their boot (trunk if you’re American).
So I wrote a little guide to bootfairs here:
- Clear out all your junk and think it looks like the best stuff ever. Mentally top up in your head the £200 you’re gonna make.
- Rope in someone unsuspecting friend, who has never done a bootfair so will be unjaded.
- Cram it all into your car with your decorating table and camping chairs. Get your float and price labels ready and feel smug at how organised you are.
- Get up at some ungodly hour on the most holy of lie in days, Sunday.
- Drive thanking the fact no one else mad enough to be up at this hour because a) you can’t see out any mirrors or windows and b) you can’t move the gear stick without everything falling and crushing your arm.
- Get there and feel much better that you’re not the only one insane enough to do this.
- Panic pull everything out the car and frantically set it up whilst the bootfair pros pull and poke your old belongings shouting ‘how much, how much’.
- Panic more because you left your float at home. Go through every pocket, purse and the footwells of the car in search of change.
- Step back and survey your table and notice how your stuff now looks like the shittest stuff ever and realise you’re probably gonna make a fiver not £200.
- As people paw at your old stuff you feel slightly naked and like everyone is judging your life right now.
- Get really angry and defensive when someone haggles over your possession that is £6 and they want to pay £5 but you’re not budging. That waffle maker was £30 only 3 months ago (fuck you).
- Get bored and take a wander amongst the rows and rows of everyone else’s toot. Aisles of soup bowls and picture frames. Clothes wracks of plus sized sequins and every species of animal made of bone china.
- Spend your forgotten float at the burger van to break a twenty you had in your purse and sneakily get more change. Try to get something that costs nothing but that is so suspect it should come with a public warning. Its also probably safe to eat a ‘burger’ as a vegetarian because it’s never even seen a cow.
- Return to someone haggling with your buddy over a 20p item. They want it for 15p and it’s 5 pence you difference you cheapskate.
- Have a little rush of sales and feel energised by the fact you’ve got up at 6am, broken your limbs hauling boxes and bags and sat for 5 hours in a field for £20. That’s £4 per hour pay and there’s two of you so it’s £2 per hour, illegal.
- Get all energetic and upsell everything to everyone and realise you’re the best market trader in the world. Make another tenner.
- Feel hard done by when they collect your £5 pitch fee
- Start to lose the will to live and stop chatting to people that come by, play on your phone feeling antisocial and refuse eye contact with everyone.
- Sink into dispear when you sell the waffle maker for £3 and realise you’re the mug
- Start to panic that you’ll have to take half the shit back home again. 😱
- Realise there’s still an hour left and pray for a reason to leave. So you buy another coffee and eat into your £25 profit
- Battle with yourself not to buy the kitch picture on the stall opposite because you think will make your house all edgy and arty. You’ll only put it in the next bootfair, not sell it, and be stuck with it for life anyway.
- Sell a last few things for 20p because the thought of moving it again makes you feel sick.
- Start giving people stuff for free and feel like you’re the nicest person alive.
- Get so tired that you can’t cook so get Sunday lunch at a pub with your earnings and feel smug that it was free and oh well you got rid of a quarter of your junk.
I secretly love a good car boot, if for nothing else the people watching. I also love seeing people’s stuff from their lives. I find them utterly exhausting for minimal return. But I like the idea that things are being reused and recycled, I can’t bear stuff going to the tip. Plus a they’re a great exercise in minimalising and deluttering and being able to afford a lunch out whilst on benefits.
What’s your best boot fair story or bargain?