There is something wholly winsome about proprietors taking great care with their objects of affection, wares for sale. When my friend Dina told me that I would fall deliriously in love with Portobello Market in London’s Notting Hill, never had I anticipated a two-mile stretch of treasures. Of sweet fruit and heady sausage, camera obscuras and Victorian lace, vintage fur and polished silver, loose teas and warm sourdough wrapped in wax paper, Highland cashmere and leather gloves adorned with pearl buttons.
From the fashion-forward and the razor-edged cool to the vintage and objets d’ art to figs pregnant with luscious flavor, I felt as if I were Alice tumbling through that ubiquitous hole to discover a world rife with treasures.
Not only did I acquire two stunning vintage rings, I manage to chow my way through two miles of delectable food. Should you ever tire of the pomp and circumstance of the touristy spots, I encourage you to spend a day wandering through the market, sifting and digging through its seemingly bottomless trove of epic delights.