A stall on Portobello Road
Lynda La Plante recalls days flogging her old stuff at London's market
In my early acting days when I was broke and out of work, I started to run a stall in Ladbroke Market. To describe my wonky small table as a ‘stall’ is a bit of an exaggeration. I sold second hand clothes, my own, junk collected, unwanted gifts — in fact, anything I could make a few quid on. I learned from other dealers in the street to bring a cardboard box, fill it up and emblazon it with a sign that said SALES, as the punters liked to dig around and find bargains. I also learned from proper antique dealers on various upmarket stalls to always double check if I had anything of real value.
I began to really enjoy the markets and started to go to auction houses to buy ‘as-found’ bundles at the end of the auctions. A close friend invited me to share her stall in Portobello Market. She was an avid antique collector, and so there were some costly items along with my odds and ends. The market is a thriving, incredible place, you can find wonderful stalls alongside Mexican and African artefacts, second hand designer clothes — and then there are the food stalls. At the posh end of the market are the antique stalls, and down to the end of the road they slim down to fun deals and people like me selling off anything else that’ll make a few quid.
One lovely sunny day, I was working on my friend’s stall. Beside her carefully selected items were my old picture frames stacked to one side. I had been at the auctions again and bought an as-found mass of frames and bits of carpet. A smart middle-aged man was sorting through the frames with a very dismissive waft of his hand; he withdrew one, hung it nonchalantly over his arm and then selected a small Victorian brooch. He bartered the price of the brooch down to £28 and then asked if I would throw in the frame. I refused, but said he could have it for £2.
Half an hour later, another gentleman appeared and looked through the frames. He asked if I had any other carved wooden ones, similar to the one I’d sold. I said I was sorry but there was a nice gilt one with just a few chips. He laughed walking off, and over his shoulder said he was not interested in the chips — he was only looking for one like the Chippendale frame his friend had just bought.
Lynda La Plante’s latest book is Crucified, a Jack Warr thriller, published by Bonnier Books. She is reading Deadly Animals by Marie Tierney