I didn’t live in Paris yet. But Fernand, my uncle, ran a shop in the Porte de Saint-Ouen Flea Market. It was not a boutique, more like a stand in an open market. La Ceinture, the immediate outskirts of Paris had become trendy for up-and-coming Parisians, who would venture out of their elegant neighborhoods on Sunday morning to bum around a sea of stalls peopled by all walks of life and shades of characters. Fernand employed me on weekends to cut and sell
A Parisian family, the Villeneuves
A Parisian family, the Villeneuves
A Parisian family, the Villeneuves
I didn’t live in Paris yet. But Fernand, my uncle, ran a shop in the Porte de Saint-Ouen Flea Market. It was not a boutique, more like a stand in an open market. La Ceinture, the immediate outskirts of Paris had become trendy for up-and-coming Parisians, who would venture out of their elegant neighborhoods on Sunday morning to bum around a sea of stalls peopled by all walks of life and shades of characters. Fernand employed me on weekends to cut and sell