A man with a clean-shaven head and a handlebar mustache is posted at a table selling hand-painted grains of rice and healing crystals. Down the way you may get lost in a plethora of grandpa sweaters and old VHS tapes, probably ones the grandpas actually watched. A woman may beckon you to observe her intricate leather works before offering her Instagram account where you can DM her for stick-and-poke tattoos. Carhartt jackets, still stiff with the scent of Newport cigarettes and cement splatters from its previous owner, line the racks of the booth beside her. On the same rack are three pairs of assless chaps, the leather worn, implying they were put to good use. I wonder at this moment if I could pull them off. 

From a bird’s-eye view, flea markets reflect something of an indie-fied Where’s Waldo scene, one that invites you to jump into the page as you begin your search. On a broader scale, fleas suggest more than just a fun way to meet people and their creations. It is a valuable outlet for cutting through the noise of overconsumption.

In this current market, profit is most important. One effect of this is soulless transactions, meaning there is no interaction between the consumer and the person who created the product. With this relationship becoming more and more estranged, it is no surprise that people are aching for something different. 

Flea markets are the hot spot for anyone who wants to find a one-of-a-kind purchase to up their style game, something that many people are aching for amidst an oversaturated market. The majority of advertisements lean into depersonalized cash grabs. Think, “must have items,” fast fashion trend cycles, and celebrities’ “products they can't live without.” In this way, consumption has become synonymous with happiness. While this may seem unfixable, there are ways to lessen its impact. Fleas are a breath of fresh air, veering towards connection, prioritizing human interaction, and opposing purchasing for the sake of purchasing.

Most everyone has heard the phrase “no ethical consumption under capitalism,” but Ashwini Vivek suggests in her article “‘No ethical consumption’ is no justification for spending” that “The phrase originally dominated social media with the intent to put the onus on unethical corporations. Over time, the phrase has warped into a justification for our excessive support of fast fashion companies. H&Ms are popping up as frequently as Urgent Cares, influencers are pushing out huge brand deals to huge audiences, and it seems futile to worry so much. ‘No ethical consumption’ has come to mean that since there is no way to avoid harm, why bother trying to minimize harm at all?” While I do agree the burdens of capitalism should not be placed on the individual consumer, if capitalism is a cog we are stuck in, we might as well try to combat it a little. 

Flea markets as a channel of distribution offer something completely new and separate from other forms of product pushing. Upon attending a flea, it is overwhelmingly clear that while profit is inherently prioritized, it is nothing compared to the value placed on human interaction and connection. It is “...a shift from industrialization to networking,” as Tyler Fonda writes in his article, “Flea Market Capitalism.” The idea that profit and production are the most important aspects of our economy is starting to change. 

The independent nature of these markets mean the growth of small businesses can flourish without monstrous bank loans or government subsidies. The workers are directly linked to the means of production. They decide what to sell and when, how much to charge, where to sell, etc. This is incredibly valuable for everyone involved; artists and vendors get complete creative control, and consumers get something unique and often one of a kind.