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A Fresh Look: A flea (market) in his ear and his pocket
Monday, July 21, 2008

It's described as "Pennsylvania's most unique shopping experience," a place "where retail rebels sell and shop."

The hype is right on Target.

Rossi's Pop-Up Marketplace, located in a former theater complex in North Versailles, is one of those places I would have never visited if a loyal reader had not sent me an e-mail, assuring that this "well-kept secret" was worth my while. And money. I was surprised that Rossi's is a mere four miles from my house ... a house now cluttered with more junk and knick-knacks and curios and bric-a-brac hauled home from a Saturday morning shopping excursion.

Rossi's is not for the fussy or the faint-hearted or the obsessive-compulsive who must have everything neat and clean and orderly. This is one major hot and crowded pigpen, a flea market that may indeed have fleas, only open Saturday and Sunday from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. There's a map to help plan your visit, but because vendors sometimes open and close at whim, do what I did: Wear comfortable shoes, bring sturdy shopping bags and walk. And walk. And walk.

Here, the old meet the new and gently used. The indoor booths are cleaner and neater, but the vendors less open to bargaining. (One has posted a warning sign: "For those who need to haggle, we will gladly raise the price so we can give you a discount.") The usual suspects -- Avon products, baked goods, fresh fruit and vegetables, greeting cards, sneakers, clothing, reading glasses, cosmetics and more Avon -- are here, but I focused on yesteryear. I spied a classic Veg-O-Matic (It slices! It dices! It wedges! ); a complete set of '60s NFL coasters, mint in box; eight-track tapes of Helen Reddy, Perry Como and Engelbert Humperdinck, collectors' items at two for a buck.

Some vendors are too good for this kind of thing, such as artist Mary Vogel, who paints as people pass by. Her "canvases" are vintage windowpanes; her works wonderful and whimsical folk art that showcase true talent. And an absolute steal at $30 and $40.

The most unique item I found (but didn't buy) was a Halloween candelabra; the base was made from a skull, the eyes glowed and the lights flickered. Complete in box, working. A mere $3.

I watched one woman grab enough name-brand over-the-counter drugs -- stool softener, eye drops, cough medicine, headache tablets -- to fill a medicine chest, but she forgot a cardinal rule of flea marketing: check expiration dates. Outdated products are on Rossi's official "prohibited" list -- along with several other items, such as fireworks, firearms, pornography -- so honesty is not every vendor's best policy. I cannot say the handful of Coach mini-purses were the real thing at $25 each, although the owner vowed, often and loudly, that she could "prove it." Perhaps this is why one nearby vendor was giving away free Bibles and gospel texts, suitable for framing?

I watched pooped shoppers fuel on fresh baked goods, candy, hot dogs and, according to the voice over the crackling loudspeaker, french fries that "are better than Kennywood's."

One man was even getting a massage by a licensed pro.

While they ate, I feasted on the veritable Valhalla before me. The outside vendors offer the best bargains; these folk are working out of cardboard boxes and their car trunks, off card tables and, in many cases, off blankets lying on the sweltering asphalt. I didn't need any of the used jeans or sweaters or hats or paperback romances (YOUR CHOICE! FIFTY CENTS!). I glanced at the myriad VHS tapes and DVDs to see if any were out-of-print and worth more than the dollar being asked. I fondled the hand-stenciled oak chairs and maple folding coffee table ($20 for the lot; this ex-New Yorker could have gotten them for $15), but I realized real wood will clash with IKEA's fake stuff.

I ran out of money (and refused to use the high-fee ATM on site) before I could nab the first editions and assorted pieces of movie and TV memorabilia that I plan to resell for huge profit on eBay.

No, I won't tell you what they are.

No, I won't tell you the location of the vendors.

No, you will not beat me to them.

I'll see you on eBay.


To commemorate Pittsburgh's 250th birthday this year, the Post-Gazette has asked newcomer and longtime writer/editor Alan W. Petrucelli, the marketing/communications director at Dance Alloy, to share his insights with us weekly. He lives in Churchill and can be reached at entrpt@aol.com.
First published on July 21, 2008 at 12:00 am
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