Summer shopping: craft shows

It's June, when outdoor art and craft shows begin to sprout like chanterelles.

These venues support local (or regional) makers; the goods are handmade—maybe even of recycled materials. I'll go to a craft show any day over a mall filled with mass brands.

The dark side is a wearying sameness, and a syndrome I call Best of the Bunch, a consumption behaviour that kicks in: whose pots, scarves or leather goods are best? If you can assess and walk away, good for you; I too often buy the Best of the Bunch item even when I don't need it.

Clothes are tricky. At craft shows, they sort into two types: the first is "wearable art" and though it can look graceful fluttering from a booth, when I try to integrate it into my real-life wardrobe, it's a mistake—and there are no returns. The second type is "wearable yurt", which makes me look like an 18th century homesteader, because there is no discernible tailoring.

I've bought goods that I'd have sailed by in another setting: a Guatemalan-fabric jacket that Le Duc said made me look like a head shop pouf; a woven straw bag that shredded any top it brushed against; a beaded bracelet that broke in the box.

At foreign markets, I'm even more prone to Best of Bunching.

In Paris last spring, I met up with a Montréal friend, Lynne, who wanted to visit the Bastille Sunday market to buy linen clothes.

Before I knew it, I was in an inadequately-curtained "dressing room" deciding between blue or brown. The dresses were rectangles of rather scratchy linen; Lynne looked terrific in hers, but I didn't wear them well. I had my purse open before I realized that.

A little advice: Compare the item you are considering against your very favourite thing in the same category, that you already own. Is that cute cotton sun hat as sprightly as your old one, which does need replacing?

If so, buy and enjoy! I'm all for supporting local artisans and will pay extra for locally-made plum jam or the teddy bear made from recycled fabric. This is community.

Some 'local markets' such as the Bastille sell goods made elsewhere (the linen dresses were made in Poland) or even Chinese imports. Oh yes, the Chinese are copying Provençal prints and cranking out napery. Other venues are careful to admit only local or regional producers.

Craft shows can still offer magical discoveries.

In Toronto, I met the unforgettable artist En Burk, who made exquisite boxes and hand-bound books from paper wasps' nests that she foraged from fallen nests in the city's parks.

It was at one of these, too that I found a handsome leather and canvas bag I carried for a decade. The ratio of tat to treasures seems to have increased, but it's always worth a look.

So I'll head back to the craft markets, art shows and fairs—but remind myself that though an item may be handmade, that doesn't necessarily make it right for me.