Suitcase rummage

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Saturday morning, I walked through the saddest little trash and treasure market in Haig Park. Lining the path were a dozen or so blankets with various pieces of personal effects, mainly clothing. One small suitcase had a sign saying that the owner of the meagre belongings was about to head home and needed to sell everything on display. I didn’t like her chances.

It was a cold morning, and the prospective sellers were huddled on their blankets. They were either rubbing their hands together or had them wedged under their armpits, trying desperately to keep warm. Some were rocking back and forth in the hope that some movement would bring relief to their cold bodies. Looking at their wares, it was difficult to think of anyone who would buy what they had to offer. In a world where a brand-new basic T-shirt can be bought for as little as $2.50, how much could they hope to get for a second-hand garment? And how many people still carry coins or cash for that matter? I did a quick calculation of an hourly rate and concluded that most of them would be lucky to earn the equivalent of a cup of coffee.

I felt like a voyeur looking into the drawers of their bedroom closets and was embarrassed to do so. There is so much you can tell from the items themselves and the way people display them. At one stall there was an open suitcase with belongings spilling out as if they had been dropped from a balcony. At another, each item was folded neatly and arranged according to their colour. It felt far too intimate to be comfortable for a prospective buyer to lay their hands on the items. I wanted to flee.

Something about the sad display reminded me of documentaries of the aftermath of WWII when people with tattered suitcases sat on the back of drays, making their way across the countryside on their way home. Maybe it was the old-fashioned suitcases that most had brought along, or maybe I have seen too many German movies at the festival in the past three weeks.

I left the park feeling disconcerted. I thought about all those items and how they were once new and desirable. A strange thing happens when we bring our purchases home. They take on quite a different life to the one they had in the shop. They become an expression of our personality, or they refuse to fit in and look forlorn or out of place. Unfortunately, most of the items for sale looked forlorn.