Digging like a dog

Digging like a dog

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I adore outdoor flea markets. When Sunday comes, I can’t wait to go out that door and plunge into the deafening mishmash of varied people and objects. But I only like those street stalls where clothes are piled up high in heaps, everything in a mess. Rummaging through the piles of clothing is indispensable for me. I need to use both hands, mechanical-digger style, to dig up buried treasures. As I can’t bear fashion impositions, buying quality clothes at flea markets enables me to wear rout-of-season garments, unique and classic, not trendy items. And I can also find other colors, different from the ones that are currently popular. I absolutely refuse to wear the clothes that a bunch of affected daffodils try to impose on me. The most uncomfortable clothes…
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