The charms (and the not-so charming) of market on main.

I recently got my latest fix of ‘indie-cool’ by visiting the Market on Main in the Maboneng Precinct. And I ’aint your typical indie child; in fact, far from it, but I couldn’t help revel in the flower power and free spirit that wafted through this trendy flea market. You can get anything there. From jewellery, bags and clothes – mostly things like haram pants, beach kaftans and woven hessian-looking things – to food, wine, art and sculptures; it’s a market like no other. Music pumps through the newly renovated warehouse, possibly sending subliminal messages to part with your cash at every stall, and the smells of boerie rolls and bunny chows at the outdoor section flirt with your nostrils. 


It’s an eclectic bunch who buy and sell there, and I like that. I appreciate a place where you can walk passed an interracial couple and not feel like the big fat, two-toned-shirt guy to your left is watching you to see if you’re ‘just as shocked as he is’. I like a place where my gay friends are as flamboyant as they are in their living rooms, and the girls with tattoos all over their bodies with beehive hairstyles and bright red lipstick blend in well, like good vodka to cranberry.

I was in a particularly experimental mood and wanted to try everything on offer, including the vegan chocolate mousse. It was gross. And not even mildly gross, or like, “Hmmm … that was interesting”. It was like, “Thank you, that tastes like mud and chick peas, and could be used as an organic torture technique to force information out of people” – that kind of gross.

But all my other gastronomic experiences where wonderful! Mutton samoosas, vegetable spring rolls, green Thai curries, mini lemon meringue pies, chocolate brownies (and probably the fun kind) were all ingested …

I also bought my first thrift-store item of clothing, which actually I’ve yet to try on. It’s a mid-calf, 50s-style, pleated red skirt with black polka dots, that’s actually two sizes too big for me. Okay, the hippie air might have got to my brain a bit, because it’s not exactly my style. But it cost R50! And therefore, had to be bought. My secret obsession with quantity-not-quality often gets the better of me, particularly when something is priced as low as Skirt was.

I’ll definitely go again. The vibrant inner city is the coolest place to be on a Sunday.