So your friend says one day she knows the perfect guy for you. He ticks off everything you want in a guy, whatever that list may consist of. You agree to meet him, in a groovie little bar that he suggests, that is quite coincidentally your favourite drinking hole. You put on your frock and heels, grab your purse and leave the house with excitement, anticipation, lust and joy doing the samba in your belly. And you meet him, he ticks all your physical requirements in a mate, he’s dressed the way you like a man to dress, he even smells the way you like a man to smell. And one drink into the date you realise who this guy is: your perfect guy, On Paper. You should like him,you want to like him, you spend the night looking for reasons to like him, but there’s just nothing there. Nothing.
I love markets, I quite simply love them. I love the do-it-yourselfness of them, the two-fingered salute to retail behemoths. There really is nothing better that chatting to the person who made the item, be it cheese or a handbag, that you have decided to purchase. Finders Keepers are my perfect markets, they are at Eveleigh, they are full of indie designers who have taken nana craft to their collective bossom, they have music, they have a bar, their appeal crosses age, gender, sexual preferences – hell, I even think Liberal voters like Finders Keepers. On Friday night, after 40 minutes and $60 lighter, I realised that Finders Keepers are my perfect markets, On Paper.
And I just can’t put my finger on why. Is it because I don’t fit their demographic? Is it because I wanted to engage with the Crafters, but could barely get to their stalls? Is it because despite standing at an uncrowded stall with the item I wanted to buy and my purse open, the stall owner and her husband refused to make eye contact with me? Is it because within ten minutes of arriving, I realised that every second stall-holder was selling etched wooden brooches? Have I just seen too many markets and expect too much? I have a feeling it’s probably a bit of all of the above. It took me 40 minutes to “do” FK. I went with money burning a hole in my pocket and could barely give it away. But I left with a deep feeling of disappointment and disatisfaction.
Finders Keepers, I really really want to love you, truly I do.