Vintage View: Paris

I can’t lie. Paris still makes me weak. I’m indifferent as the rest of the muttering livestock through the cheap airline trip. Even taking the train from Charles de Gaulle through graffitied cement canyons and banal suburbs I can maintain my bored Gallic sang-froid. But rising like a pale little Irish salmon from the Metro into the sylvan light of the Left Bank, I’m a goner. Scurrying around the antique shops and markets is part of the integral thrill of any Parisian adventure, and you only need a day or two to immerse yourself in its magic.

Having licked your lips in the antique galleries of Saint-Germain-de-Prés and the Louvre de Antiquaires, move onto the brocantes (second hand shops) and marchés aux puces (flea markets named for the pest ridden mattresses once sold there). There’s about 15 markets out of at least a 100 worth bashing the pavements for and any bald leaflet guide to Paris will give you times, dates and the nearest Metro station for established and occasional gatherings citywide.

If you can dedicate just an afternoon, take Metro line 4, North to the 18th arrondissement, and the Marché aux Puces St-Ouen de Clignancourt. The largest flea market in the world, this pulsating community of a dozen different markets, embraces vibrant stalls of fascinating tat and treasure around the Rue de Rosiers to the labyrinth of pedestrian alleys in the interconnected, enclosed antique ‘villages’ studded with classy antique galleries. At seven hectares and with over 3,000 traders, it’s a nerve tingling, foot throbbing treat but like any heaving, breathing market it does stage everything from the glories of Art Deco to truly indefensible rubbish.