Correction: Urban Indigo’s link has been updated to reflect the correct Urban Indigo
Photos provided by Sarah Bly
Sarah and Stéphanie didn’t set out to revolutionize how Albany thinks about consumption. They just wanted to create the kind of second-hand market they’d loved in Europe: the kind where a well-known designer might sell pieces from her closet a few tables down from a grandmother with handknit items, where all ages and income levels participate, where quality and reuse go hand in hand.
What started as conversations between two neighbors who shared a passion for sustainability has grown into Bon Marché, a curated pop-up market that’s part flea market, part community gathering, part environmental action. Sarah, who studied sustainable fashion in Copenhagen and worked with organizations from H&M to Rent the Runway, brings research-backed insights on making sustainability accessible. Stéphanie, who pioneered Berkeley’s first zero-waste refill store (Fillgood), understands how to help people push through the barriers that prevent them from living according to their values.
Together, they’ve created something that fits perfectly into Albany’s 15-minute city ethos: a walkable, neighborhood-scale market where “perfectly functioning goods currently collecting dust in a garage or closet” find new homes, where sellers negotiate the emotional work of letting go, and where buying second-hand becomes not just practical but genuinely desirable.
We sat down with Sarah and Stéphanie to learn how Danish “big trash days” and French waste philosophy converged in Albany, why their vendor fee is intentionally low, and what it really takes to run a pop-up market dedicated to keeping things out of landfills.
Sarah, you discovered Denmark’s “storskrald” culture while living in Copenhagen on a student budget. What was that first moment like when you realized you could furnish an entire apartment from the sidewalk?
When we moved to Denmark, we’d gone from corporate jobs in a mid-priced U.S. city to a place with exquisite design, very high costs, and Master’s-student budgets. We rented an apartment we thought was furnished. It wasn’t, unless you count two pendant lamps and a foosball table.
A Danish friend suggested we take the train to a wealthy suburb on “big trash day.” It’s not landfill—everything is sorted and often resold. I didn’t find anything great—the one bench I liked was bolted to the ground—but what struck me was that no one thought this approach was odd. It was completely normal.
The real lightbulb moment happened at my first loppemarked, a major inspiration for Bon Marché. A well-known designer was selling pieces from her wardrobe a few tables down from a grandmother with handknit items and vintage kitchen gear. All ages, all income levels, buying and selling together. It wasn’t quirky or niche—it was just how things circulated.
That blend of frugality and design is very Danish: buy fewer, well-made things, and pass them on when you’re done. A small example: the $100 Danish rain suits my kids wear. The price is shocking if your benchmark is Amazon, but they last for years and are often passed down with several children’s names crossed out on the tag. Once you’ve lived in a culture where quality and reuse go hand in hand, it’s very hard to go back to disposability.
Stéphanie, you pioneered Berkeley’s first zero-waste refill store. How did that experience lead you to second-hand markets? What’s the connection between fighting plastic waste and fighting clothing waste?
There’s a very natural connection between my work at Fillgood and Bon Marché: both are about helping our community live more sustainably by buying more thoughtfully and wasting less. At Fillgood, I focused on reducing single-use plastics in daily life. With Bon Marché, the focus shifts to all the things we keep at home but no longer need—clothes, accessories, home goods, toys, games—and giving them a second life.
Plastic pollution is another big connection. When we talk about clothing, most new garments—especially fast fashion—are made from plastic fibers like polyester, acrylic, and nylon. These materials come from oil, shed microplastics in the wash, pollute the air and water along the supply chain, and aren’t designed to last. They also contain thousands of chemicals used during production. It’s… not great. Choosing second-hand, especially natural-fiber pieces, helps reduce plastic pollution and keeps perfectly good items in circulation at almost no cost to the environment.
I’ve been passionate about second-hand and repair for years because they’re incredibly effective. They save the energy, water, and raw materials needed to make new things, and they keep value circulating locally by supporting families in our own community. Honestly, it’s one of the easiest eco-friendly actions anyone can take. Plus, every purchase supports real people, not giant corporations who think “sustainability” means making their packaging a slightly nicer shade of green.
How did you two meet, and what made you think “we should start a flea market together”?
Technically, our first interaction was through the “Albany I Just Want to Get Rid of Now” page when Stéphanie gave me some free plants. But we got to know each other more formally when Stéphanie organized a large zero-waste initiative during the Marin school rebuild. She worked with other volunteers and school staff to sort through all of the unwanted items. Everything was donated to local people and organizations and the school saved a lot of money by reducing the need for landfill. I volunteered one afternoon and remember thinking, this person really shares my values and I loved that she put her ideas into action.
Later, we worked together on schoolyard greening projects and started a Halloween costume swap. Bon Marché grew from that partnership. I had wanted to try a Danish-style loppemarked in our area for some time, but most people didn’t quite understand the concept—how it differs from local flea markets or traditional rummage sales. Being from Europe, Stéphanie immediately knew exactly what I meant, and she had just sold Fillgood, so she had the availability to try it. And so it began.
You renamed the market from “loppemarked” to “bon marché.” Tell us about that choice. What’s the difference between a flea market and a “good market”?
It was really only called a “loppemarked” in the dreaming stage. Once Stéphanie joined and it became an actual project, we needed a name that acknowledged the European inspiration but still made sense to people here. Bon Marché was born!
In French Bon Marché means “a good deal” or “affordable,” and literally, “a good market.” That’s exactly what we’re trying to build: a market with genuinely good things—vintage, contemporary, handmade—presented in a way that encourages reuse, repair, and thoughtful consumption. It’s not just a flea market; it is a good market.
And while we dropped the Danish word, Denmark still lives in the DNA of the project through California Copenhagen—the website and Instagram handle Sarah created to explore the cultural influences that shaped how she thought about sustainability and aesthetics. So the name “Bon Marché” and the handle “California Copenhagen” each reflect different parts of what inspired this whole thing in the first place.
Walk us through what happens at a typical Bon Marché. What does a vendor’s day look like from setup to teardown?
Preparation starts long before the event. Sellers sort through their items, decide what to part with, and how to price them—which is rarely a purely practical exercise. There’s an emotional negotiation: Will I miss it? What if I can’t find something like this again? It’s tempting to say it’s just stuff, but what we buy often carries meaning. We give sellers a comprehensive guide to help, and we encourage them to bring quality pieces that feel worth the effort.
We have found that most discard methods don’t offer the same sense of closure that selling at a market does. Once you’ve gone through that internal process and brought your items to Bon Marché, you usually don’t want to take them back. It can also influence future buying decisions—people become more intentional and start to recognize that investing in something better made often pays off in the long run.
Sellers arrive about two hours before opening. It’s like building a small shop from scratch, quickly. The more people plan ahead, the smoother it goes, which is why we support that part as much as possible.
There are often people waiting at the door, so we open exactly on time. From the start, and especially once the DJ puts on the first record, it’s social and energetic. People browse, but they also chat, swap stories, and genuinely connect. One of the biggest surprises for new sellers is how meaningful it feels to watch something you owned go to someone who’s truly excited about it. It’s a far more relational experience than listing online.
We run about five hours, and there’s always someone still shopping at the very last minute. When the DJ plays the slow-down song and the music cuts, that’s the unofficial closing bell.
Teardown is still tiring, but the mood is lighter. By this point, sellers usually know each other. There’s laughter, swapping, and quick reflections on the day. Over time we’ve noticed patterns: many sellers and buyers come back, and the community feels more connected after each event. For us, that’s one of the clearest signs the experience works.
Your vendor fee is $50, which is way less than professional markets that charge $150+. How did you land on that price, and what does it cover?
From the beginning, we wanted Bon Marché to feel closer to the small community markets we loved in France and Copenhagen, not a huge vintage-only flea, but a place where people with good quality things could actually participate. If the fee were high, it would immediately limit who felt comfortable selling. Keeping it at $50 was intentional: it invites first-time sellers, busy parents, people with great pieces who would never apply to a professional market. Honestly, that accessibility has become its own challenge—we get more seller applications than we have space for, which is also a proof of concept.
The only reason we can keep the fee that low is community support. A grant from the Albany Community Foundation and partnerships with places like Abrams Claghorn Gallery and Ocean View Brew Works make our razor-thin budget workable.
Frugality is really at the core of how we operate. Vendor fees go almost entirely toward insurance and the most basic promotion. We don’t buy Meta ads. We print posters—often in black and white—use community boards, and rely heavily on local IG accounts like Albany Hour, The Little Hill, and OnSolanoAvenue whose reposting make community events like ours possible. Our newsletter comes straight from our own email address. Most of our materials are second-hand or sourced through local free groups.
And it truly is a family-and-community lift: Stéphanie’s husband and kids help with setup and teardown; Sarah’s husband Robert DJs with vinyl from his own collection; and volunteers like Will Hale, Tess Kornfield, and the high school students who run our swap, including our two-time organizer, AHS sophomore Sally Eisenstein, make the whole thing possible.
Everyone who puts a poster in their window is part of making this work. We’re proud the audience has grown through genuine interest rather than paid reach—but for long-term sustainability, we know we’ll have to keep experimenting with funding.
You describe this as a market “for amateur sellers.” Who shows up to sell? Have you seen any unexpected groups or communities form around Bon Marché?
One thing we love about our sellers is how diverse they are. What they tend to share is an appreciation for quality—beautiful pieces that are too good to give away—and, often, a collection a bit larger than they can justify keeping. We curate for condition and quality, but we don’t dictate taste. That’s part of the fun: people bring wildly different styles, and shoppers respond to that mix.
People sell for many reasons. Some are downsizing. Some are creatives or collectors with more than they can use. Many bring a strong environmental awareness and want to let go thoughtfully. And Bon Marché offers something most selling methods don’t: a place to sell clothing, home goods, and kids’ items all at once. That’s a big part of the appeal.
What has surprised us most is the creativity in this community—and how supportive people have been of one another. Over time, shared values have led to real friendships. One seller described it as “a tightly knit group of creative kindred spirits, with a lot of positive energy.” That captures the atmosphere we see again and again and is a big part of why, even when the work is heavy, it feels worth doing.
Why Albany? What made this community the right place for Bon Marché?
Albany is our home. We live here, we’ve been involved in the community for over a decade, our kids go to school here. There’s a shared mindset around environmental responsibility that we all share as a community, and also a lot of dynamism and growth that supports this.
What’s also significant is that Albany has a formal climate action plan, and one of its core goals is to promote the development of a low carbon economy by reducing emissions embodied in goods and materials. By promoting second hand purchases, reuse and repair, Bon Marché directly supports the city’s climate action plan.
How does Bon Marché fit into Albany as a “15-minute city”? What role does a pop-up second-hand market play in a small, walkable community?
As avid pedestrians and cyclists, we’ve always been drawn to the 15-minute city idea. Beyond the environmental benefits, living in a walkable place like Albany means you actually know people—many of our attendees are neighbors we see at school drop-offs, kids’ sports games, or just walking down Solano. That proximity builds relationships.
We structure Bon Marché with that scale in mind. It’s intentionally local, approachable, and human-sized. Rather than being a destination event with crowds and parking logistics, it’s something you can fold into your day—walk over, browse, connect with others, and head home. That intimacy is part of what makes it work, and what keeps it from being overwhelming to attend.
At the same time, people do travel here from neighboring communities to attend. That’s something we really value.
What’s something about running a pop-up market that people probably don’t realize is complicated?
Space is probably the most complicated part—which won’t surprise anyone who lives in the Bay Area. Finding a location that’s affordable, aesthetically right, and has room for pre-event storage is incredibly challenging. Even public spaces run by the city are often more expensive than we can justify. We’ve been lucky to partner repeatedly with Abrams Claghorn Gallery, which suits the market well, and Robby (the owner) is wonderfully aligned. But the lot is seasonal—right now it’s home to the beloved holiday trees—so if we want more than a couple events per year, we need backup options every time.
The other thing people underestimate is how much work goes into lifting a one-day event—and how weather can undo months of planning. Our first market happened during a heatwave. It was 96 degrees. Sellers still came, buyers still came… but oy.
And then there’s the marketing landscape. The attention economy is real, and without a big budget you’re at the mercy of algorithms. Before Bon Marché, neither of us were active content creators. Now we spend hours on visuals, messaging, and timing. It’s both an art and a science. We will never again underestimate the person who gets 10,000 views showing how to fold socks—they’re operating with real skill.
Sarah, your Master’s research focused on making sustainable fashion “accessible, affordable, and desirable.” How does Bon Marché put that research into practice?
My Master’s research in sustainable fashion was funded by the Swedish government, which—looking back from a U.S. context—felt remarkably forward-thinking. I focused on the attitude–behavior gap: people say they want to make sustainable choices but often run into barriers like cost, access, or confusion. I studied people who were both highly fashion-oriented and genuinely committed to sustainability—people who had figured out how to navigate that tension.
One clear finding was that even as brands improve their sustainability efforts, most “new sustainable fashion” is still resource-intensive, and consumers remain uncertain. In reality, the simplest way to consume more sustainably is to avoid buying new when possible. Second-hand sidesteps so many of the complexities—no supply-chain ambiguity, no greenwashing, no waiting for companies to catch up. It’s not a complete solution, but it’s an immediate, accessible step.
Bon Marché is built on that principle. We try to make second-hand easy—not just for buyers, but for sellers too—and we extend that to practices you rarely find in one place, like repair and textile transformation.
Another finding was that many people default to quality as their sustainability strategy. They’ll choose a well-made artisanal piece without sustainability credentials over a mass-produced “Conscious Collection” item. “Buy less, buy better” is a great philosophy—but it can be exclusionary because quality requires upfront cost.
A market like Bon Marché helps in two ways: it gives people a resale pathway that makes investing in quality feel more responsible, and it makes those same well-made pieces accessible to people who may not be able to afford them new.
And then there’s desirability. Cultural norms matter. When the people around you buy second-hand—and do it proudly—it becomes normalized and even aspirational. But there’s also a real duality at play: people want to fit in with their peers while also expressing personal style, and second-hand uniquely allows for both. That’s especially true among younger generations. Bon Marché aims to support that shift while also reaching people who don’t naturally identify with “thrifting.” We do that through curation, presentation, and by creating an aesthetic, community-centered experience rather than a purely transactional one.
Both of you have backgrounds fighting against waste. What’s your bigger vision here? Is Bon Marché just about selling used clothes, or is it about something more?
Selling and buying second-hand is the core format, but our intention has always been to build an experience that helps people rethink consumption altogether.
We believe sustainable change comes not just from removing waste, but from revaluing what already exists. So every market includes some invitation to engage differently—whether through repair, creativity, or learning a new skill.
We’ve partnered with reUSE, an incredible UC Berkeley student group, to offer on-site repairs. We’ve hosted dye baths with awesome local partners like Urban Indigo and Hamesha Project for people to recolor stained garments. We’ve featured creative mending and upcycling for all ages—one of the most popular moments was Albany resident and designer Summer Liu teaching children hand sewing using repurposed materials. At our Earth Day market, we even brought in the city’s native plant expert Margot Cunningham to focus on how sustainable thinking can extend to your landscaping, and the city’s sustainability team to talk about their new foodware ordinance to reduce waste in our local restaurants.
We also experiment with different formats. Our kids’ market with Cornell Elementary had over 50 stands of young sellers so excited to sell their items, and our more recent pop-up offered a quieter, more curated experience for people who might not gravitate toward traditional markets.
Ultimately, we see Bon Marché as a catalyst. It’s about showing that beauty, creativity, and sustainability can coexist in a fun way—and that the local community is a powerful driver of that transition. We’ll continue partnering with local groups and organizations because we see this as part of a broader cultural shift, not just an event.
Where do you see Bon Marché going? Will it stay a pop-up, or do you have dreams of something bigger?
One thing we both share is a willingness to test new ideas and find new ways to connect zero waste initiatives to our community. When a new opportunity or partnership appears—and sometimes when we go looking for one—it’s genuinely energizing for us. We imagine we’ll continue exploring new ways, possibly even at a larger scale, to pursue our core goal: making sustainable behaviors accessible and desirable, and creating a community space for perfectly functioning goods that are currently collecting dust in a garage or a closet.
Recently, we came across an initiative in Copenhagen that brought together a documentary screening, an interview panel, live music, workshops, and a second-hand market all within one experience. We both had the same reaction: that would be incredible to try, we wonder if the Albany Film Fest would want to partner!
That said, we think Bon Marché will likely remain in a pop-up format, with several events per year. For us, it’s always been about creating an experience. And we’re lucky Albany already has excellent year-round second-hand options locally—places like Stuff, Berkeley Humane, Umami, Morningtide, Toy Go Round and Coyote Kids—which we happily send people to when they ask where our “store” is.
Our role will be to experiment, to bring people together, and to keep demonstrating what’s possible when sustainability is made engaging. Whatever form it takes, our hope is that Bon Marché continues to spark small shifts in how people consume—because if enough people change their habits, that scales. And we’d love to see Albany at the forefront of that shift.
Learn more about Bon Marché and sign up for their mailing list at californiacopenhagen.com.