Some treasure hunters, perhaps those blessed with the gift of practicality and heads less inclined to hover upwards amidst the clouds, may visit an antiques market and simply see an opportunity to grab a bargain or possibly to snare themselves a useful chair. Not I. Oh no, I see a chance for reinvention and the thrill of new adventure. Perhaps Antiquing should be placed among our list of hobbies along with those meant-to-impress activities such as Rock Climbing, Hiking, and Skydiving. Adrenaline junkies may scoff at the brazen comparison to their perilous pursuits whilst they dangle dangerously by a thread on a vertiginous cliff face. They would dismiss us as a leisurely gaggle of sticky-beaks who like to peruse through other people’s battered knick-knacks.



Clearly those who dice with death have never felt the tension as I have when gripped by the discovery of a hidden treasure. The gleaming time-worn handle of some desired object lays buried beneath an indiscriminate stack of faded monogrammed linens like a crisp blanket of fallen leaves obscuring spring’s jewel-like bulbs. What is it? I must know! Sheer panic sets in as I spy another eagle-eyed hunter swiftly closing in on my prize. Quickening my step, I sashay swiftly towards the treasure, as does my adversary, weaving my way politely yet briskly passed nattering ladies, their arms laden with French sheets whilst utterly oblivious to the object of my increased desire. My opponent, thwarted by a rather large gentleman sporting an unusually wide brimmed hat, is temporarily blockaded and must at once admit defeat. To the victor come the spoils.





Of course, not all encounters at the market are quite as dramatic. Mostly the atmosphere is one of calm composure as rugged-up antique loving foragers ribbon between odd and often bizarre assortments with their four-legged friends in tow. Clutching our take-away coffee cups, as much for warmth as for the life-affirming elixir they contain, my market buddy Tomoko and I make our way inside. The Sunbury market is a huge permanent event held every second and fourth Tuesday of the month at Kempton Park Racecourse southwest of the city centre on the very edge of Greater London. Every corner of the space is packed tightly with plastic folding tables heaving with a glorious array of old bits and bobs, many of which I have no use for, yet fascinate me all the same. However, there is no time to dilly-dally indoors, the real treasures for us are to be found outside. We must brave the elements. Spurred on by coffee we adjust our woollen hats and forge on – there are wondrous discoveries to be made!







There are no gaudy colours out here. The market landscape is like an old tapestry; everything is muted, toned down, faded, washed out and weathered. How perfectly glorious it all is. You see, outdoors is where the furniture is displayed; rustic French credenzas plucked discriminately by discerning dealers from provincial brocante sit effortlessly at ease beside towering wooden orchard ladders, their rungs worn down with decades of daily wear. Shrouded in a golden glow of early morning autumnal sunshine the scene feels almost hyper-real – I want to pull up a well-worn chair and languish for a while, breathing in the entire tantalising scene. Every aspect, every tiny detail, no matter how insignificant, is integrated, harmonious and spurs a glorious connection to the next delight.





Sharp shards of flickering light seize my attention and I turn obediently towards the source. Hundreds of glass bottles of varying shapes and sizes glisten in the sunlight, their translucent green colour catching the sun’s warmth and shimmering in unison like a vast crystalline sea. I spy Tomoko, face mesmerised by the light, watching with quiet contemplation as one does when standing on the sandy shore gazing out towards a tranquil sea. We look toward each other with little need for words, and I wonder: does everyone stand here before these everyday objects, stupefied as we are? Likely not.




Spellbound we wander on, unable or unwilling to pause for too long. The acronym FOMO springs to mind – perhaps it is here, at Sunbury, where that now familiar abbreviation had first appeared. Ceased by a wave of hurried uncertainty I promptly shuffle on. As with markets of any kind some stalls are of more interest than others, and of course this is purely objective – one woman’s trash is another’s treasure, or so they say. Tomoko and I have frequented Sunbury on more than one occasion, and we have amassed a handful of vendors whose names we are yet to learn, yet whose wares we have come eagerly to see.





However, finding your favourites amongst a hodge-podge of wooden stools and chipped enamelware is like rediscovering that quaint little Italian alleyway you stumbled upon during your distant honeymoon – you know it must be here somewhere, yet so much has changed since you were last here. Lost within a sea of faces it is astonishingly easy to feel abandoned within the rabbit-warren of wares. And why is it that every male dealer at every market around the world seems to sport a bushy beard? Is a face obscured by hair a prerequisite to adhere?




Admittedly, an antiques market is a glorious place to become adrift. Both my friend and I have a few special things we would like to find, although there is always something equally enticing to acquire. During her last visit Tomoko unearthed a beautiful collection of old wooden spools still wound tight with their original wool boucle in varying shades of blues and greens, similar to the exquisite threads used to create those quintessentially French Chanel jackets. She is on a mission to buy some more. I ask her what the dealer looked like, and she replies, “I can’t remember exactly, but I think he had a beard”.





I hope you enjoyed a jaunt to the Sunbury Antiques Market with The Sunday Londoner. Please do leave a comment below, I’d love to hear from you! Have you ever visited this glorious market before? England is brimming with wonderful antique markets, have you ever been to any?


I did find a few treasures during my trip to Sunbury. I know many of you may like to see what I purchased, so here they are in no particular order of loveliness!






Considered to be the cigarettes of their day, clay pipes were often pre-filled with tobacco and sold by shops for a single use before they were discarded. It is no wonder that thousands of clay pipes are still found along the Thames foreshore where workers would smoke as they went about their business. – Excerpt from an article by Jason Sandy which can be found here









Oh Rose! Heaven!! What a treasure trove- I love all the history and stories behind every single object! thanks for sharing this with us!!
My pleasure Pip! It is near impossible to resist. I wanted to buy a table but I have nowhere to put it! And even then I was still tempted;)
Rose x
So so good. Thank you for sharing. So hard to resist! X
And clearly I didn’t resist! Thanks Tiel, so glad you enjoyed it.
Rose x
Wow what an amazing place! I would have cried with having so many choices. I loved seeing your purchases too. You have such a discerning eye for treasures
If only I had the wallet for these treasures!;) We can soak up some of that market atmosphere in Arezzo!
Rose x
So many treasures in one place .
So many stories in each object.
Lesx
I always feel so lucky, even just to be able to own something as simple as an old late or piece of antique fabric. It feels the same to me as owning a precious artwork. The stories they could tell!
Rose x
Have you bought a trolley for your next trip?
Glorious market. So jealous!
Actually I did think about taking a trolley Pippa! There were plenty there that’s for sure. I thought by not taking one I’d show more restraint – evidently not!
Rose x
Rose, visiting this market would have sent me into a frenzy! Love the brick-a-bracs. Would be interesting to know the owners of these pre-loved beautiful old things. The thing I long for would be the old washing boards which brings back old memories. When we were young, we used these to wash our clothes. Quite an effort unlike modern washing machines. Enjoy your new found goodies.
I was definitely in a frenzy Sandie! And I bought one of those beautifully weathered old washing boards. I bet you really appreciate using a washing machine after washing your clothes on one of these! Mie will sit, happily retired, holding candles and other bits and bobs.
Rose x
It was amazing and toooo good.
We should go again before Christmas!
Sooo good! And yes we definitely should!
Rose x
I now have FOMO … thanks for sharing
Ha! My pleasure Leona! I’m glad you enjoyed the treasure hunt.
Rose x
Hi Rose,
I am going to London in June and look forward to attending this market. I have also looked at other markets but this looks closer than others to Covent garden.
Lovely Rita! Sunbury is a lovely market on the outskirts of London, not close to Convent Garden. It does require a bit of travel time from central London, but worth it if you love antiques!
Enjoy your trip!
Rose x
That old Delft Plate, what a great score, I could not have left it there.
Funnily enough we had an old 1920s ginger jar when I was a boy…