Courtesy of Scott Antique Markets
Once a month, the sprawling parking lots and two buildings at the Atlanta Exposition Centers are transformed into a treasure trove of collectibles, antiques, and oddities. It’s home to Scott Antique Market, or “Scott’s,” as locals call it, and I’ve been visiting since 2006, when I first bought a fixer-upper in East Point.
Scott’s is a magical place brimming with vintage lighting, colorful artwork, exquisite furniture, Persian rugs, gleaming pieces of silver, and anything else you might be looking for—or never imagined buying. (That explains the mermaid statue perched on the ledge of our patio, overlooking the herb garden.)
Those sconces that once adorned an old home in Chicago? They’re now a focal point in our living room, since I found them while rummaging through a box of old lights at Scott’s. That beadboard, rescued from an aged building in Athens? It was transported to our bathroom ceiling after I uncovered it while sorting through piles of salvaged wood.
For me, Scott’s isn’t about finding a great deal; instead, it’s all about the experience.
There’s the box of old black-and-white photographs I discovered during a recent visit. “I sure wish they could talk,” said the man behind the counter, named “SOB,” for Sweet Old Bill. Or the 1909 postcard tucked away in a dresser: “Hello, Harriett. How are you? I am all OK. I hope you are the same. Ans. Soon.” Or the velvet-lined casket I once saw for sale.
It’s what the market’s founder, Don Scott, likely imagined when he started an antique show at the old Lakewood Fairgrounds in 1987. As Scott’s grew, it moved to the Expo Centers on Jonesboro Road near Interstate 285. The four-day event runs from Thursday to Sunday on the second weekend of each month, and it bills itself as the world’s largest monthly indoor antique and interiors show. (The $5 admission ticket, cash only, is good all weekend long.)
I always start my journey at the south side of the Expo Centers, in an aging building known as “The Shed.” It’s a jumble of reclaimed fireplace mantels, old windows and doors, and long-forgotten cast-iron tubs, patio furniture, and well-worn hardware.
From there, I soak up the flea market–like atmosphere on the gravel lot. On a recent Saturday afternoon, as Bob Marley’s “No Woman, No Cry” floated through the air from one of the vendor’s speakers, I picked through this and that. Did I really need that classic Stanley thermos? Probably not. But that didn’t stop me.
Inside the main building, I look forward to catching up with some of the vendors I’ve gotten to know—and learn from—over the past 20 years. During my recent visit, Burt, “the Lighting Guy,” explained the telltale signs of an art deco lamp. Walter, “the Furniture Doctor,” provided a quick tutorial on applying a gel stain.
At the building just north of I-285, I always ogle over the imported rugs, admire the vibrant artwork, and grab a slice (or two) of coconut cake from Bearly Awake Coffee Co., tucked away in a corner.
I’m already counting down the days until next month’s show.
This article appears in our November 2025 issue.
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Joe Reisigl
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