Laying Out the Wares

Segunda Mano Vendor, Tepito. Feb, 2011.

I was waiting for a girl this morning. Plans for a search through the always fun second-hand madness near Lagunilla on the weekends delayed slightly by her "ahorita" time schedule. I posted up on the edge of the metro entrance. Sharing the perch with a young skater. Watchin.'

A woman in brown trackies and a white shall, strung out and staring. Tempting, dirty tacos. Quiet, scary dog. Two CD vendors cracking each other up over some joke. Carts of tortas de tamales. And, a man. Middle aged, in a maroon wool sweater and khakis. Delineating his sales area with a large red cloth, moving on his knees beneath a large piece of orange graffiti on a white wall.

These torreros dot all over the city, selling every last thing possible. And for all my interactions with, I realized I had never just sat and watched anyone set up. So I did.

Slowly, methodically, out of a plastic crate on wheels, he took out each piece singularly. With exquisite care, each landed in a pre-destined array. An order known only to him. A collection of goods to hopefully help him buy some of his own.

I texted myself this list in shortform:


- a 4-piece set of black, plastic cooking utensils
- a gold handheld vanity mirror, with matching brush
- black pastic watch
- an early-model point-and-shoot camera
- a black pair of dress shoes
- two grey calculators
- black cap with neon green writing
- 6 silver circles (that looked like coasters)
- a giant roll of multicoloured wrapping paper
- two plastic toy cars
- a picture frame