I was under the assumption that the Rozelle Markets were miles outside the city and therefore it was my inherent laziness which had thus far prevented me from visiting. I was however, very much mistaken. A short 15 minute bus ride from George Street I found myself outside Rozelle Public School in which the market resides. A haven of vintage bric a bric and second hand clothes I didn’t know where to turn next. For anyone with a fond nostalgia for old typewriters and orange penguins the market is a must see. It has stall upon stall of vintage clothing and second hand vinyl and dvds. But it also has stalls selling jewellery and plants, even a stall dedicated entirely to beautifully crafted Japanese kimonos.
The wonderful thing I found about the Rozelle market however was that despite being surrounded by cafes specialising in halloumi and boasting both a jazz band and a skinny jeans wearing, long haired guitar player, the whole thing was remarkably unpretentious. Where, in its east London counterpart the market would be rammed with bearded men and girls with uber short fringes, Rozelle played host to a mixed bunch of ordinary punters. What’s more, where I had expected to pay three times more for my old t-shirt or battered leather satchel, the prices were far more like a good old fashioned car boot sale than a trendy vintage market. It was for me therefore, an utter delight.