Kris Twyman

Live from the Crossroads Flea Market: DJ Skribble’s Spinheads!

CROSSROADS FLEA MARKET

Winding my way through the maze of vendors’ booths at the Crossroads Flea Market on a Sunday morning is mesmerizing, if not mind-boggling. There’s just so much stuff — some new, some old, some even retro.

With more than 150 market vendors selling antiques and crafts in 35,000 sq. ft., this is Calgary’s largest year-round indoor-outdoor market.

Booths are crammed with used stuff that one typically sees at a garage sale: pots, linens, flowerpots, watches…. And there’s new merchandise: jewelry, CDs, DVDs, knitted mitts, posters and a whole lot more.

I like the jungle carpet python curled in a glass case, but it’s $450. Some joke licence plates are OK: “I think you’d drive better if you stuff that cellphone up your ass.” It’s $15 but perhaps I could haggle. A $10 plate is also attention-grabbing: “Bad ass girls drive bad ass toys.”

A lava lamp catches my eye, but it’s $25. There’s a plastic M-16 with long, pointed bullets for $8; and a Jesus that glows in the dark (Bob Dylan comes to mind).

After passing framed photos of Elvis and James Dean, I walk toward this colourful plastic thing. It’s two dudes and a chick on a platform, clearly musicians.

A closer look at this electronic gizmo reveals a spike-headed guy working a “vinylizer DJ mixxing station”; another guy, Troi has a “Punkrawk” T-shirt and Adel’s bare belly is sticking out. A sticker says: DJ Skribble’s Spinheads.

And old man (the vendor, I assume) approaches and turns the device on with his gnarled fingers. “Make your head spin,” a distorted voice bellows out. A drum beat starts, then blares when the vendor slides the volume button. Twisting Troi’s head around, guitar music starts, and the more Troi’s head gets jerked around the more music is made.

“Kids just love playing with this,” says the vendor, who later introduces himself as 82-year-old Frank. There are nine different tunes, under the “club,” “rave” and “lounge” buttons.

Frank hands me an unopened package with a Troi character that tells me it’s for ages 8 and up: the head works like a joystick. This Troi dude is a punk rocker, who “spends his time thrashing the curbs and moshing at clubs along the Pacific Coast.”

The pricetag says, “SALE $10 TAKES.” I’m totally sold.

HILLHURST-SUNNYSIDE COMMUNITY CENTRE

It’s spring, which means the Hillhurst-Sunnyside market has begun to spill out of the community centre and into the parking lot. Curious crowds enjoying the first hints of warm weather pick through stands displaying ceramics, records and old photographs. At one of the stands, a framed black and white photo depicts a young girl in her Sunday finest holding two live chickens on a leash — it’s vaguely surreal and entirely wholesome all at once.

Like most flea markets, Hillhurst-Sunnyside runs the gamut from genuine finds to utter kitsch. Most of the folks peddling their wares are regulars, so you’re not likely to find many undervalued gems — these dealers are well aware of what collectors are willing to pay, and price their goods accordingly. Still, there are more than a few solid finds. A tacky brass wall ornament depicting a chain of elephants practically demands a loving home. One table holds several collections of black-and-white family photographs dating back to at least 1910 — a genuinely interesting, if poorly preserved, historical artifact. One lady is even selling a gorgeous accordion. She’s asking for $250, but isn’t firm.

Still, that’s far above our self-imposed $10 limit. Closer to the mark, there’s a George Carlin album hidden in a stack of records, priced at $1. Not too impressive, until you notice what’s written on the cover in pen: “Filthy language! Not funny!” That brings its value up to priceless. A little deeper into the market, a friendly English fellow is selling Time-Life collections of jazz greats — $10 for three pristine records of Smithsonian Institute-recorded Billie Holiday tracks. A pretty decent find, and it looks like the winner, until I spot…

A plaque-mounted 3-D hologram of The Last Supper. Rendered in loving primary colours and peopled with the figures that look somewhere between woodcarvings and action figures, the never-quite-in-focus artwork elevates Christ’s last meal in a way that Da Vinci never could. Like Elvis and crushed velvet, it’s a perfect blend of medium and subject. It’s the type of artwork that grabs your eyebrow with all its might and forces it into an intrigued arch. It’s a masterpiece. And, it’s $10.

THE HERITAGE FLEA MARKET

The twisting corridors of the Heritage Flea Market hold pretty much anything you can imagine. And some things you probably can’t.

Many stalls are closed this Saturday morning, but still, there are plenty of vendors selling antique tools, fine china, doctors’ old equipment, appliances (some working, some not), kids’ toys, antique-and cowboy- inspired furniture and… “What do you think this is?” I ask, holding up a twisted, rusty piece of metal. Kyle, my boyfriend, looks at it and shrugs.

This is the way much of our shopping goes today, interspersed with “My grandma had one just like this!” or “Ooooh, do you remember these?”

Most of the stuff I really like is way out of our $10-price range. Like the giant Tiffany lamp, an ancient black typewriter and a lamp with a little girl hugging a lamb. One of Kodak’s first cameras is only $18, but despite being to Asia a few times I don’t think my haggling is that good.

I hum and haw over a trophy for “Most weight gain” from a farm show. And a trashy bronze bas-relief of naked Hercules. Kyle is pining for the Cape Breton fire starter, a container and a rock with instructions: “Take match from container. Strike firmly on rock.”

I’m getting frustrated and tired. Everything looks the same. But when we hit the “Liquidation” section, I see it. It’s there. I found her. She’s beautiful.

Rosy cheeked and lithe, this fresh-faced housewife brandishes an iron and toaster, proclaiming from her textured metal sign, “If you want to get me hot… you’d better learn how to use one of these!” Kitschy. Perfect.

And it’s tagged at only $9. I was prepared to haggle to five. “Four-fifty please,” the cashier says.

Sounds good to me.