Gypsies Flock to Bridal Fair as Parents Negotiate Donka Hristova lets her mother pull her skintight mini-dress a half-inch down her leg. Checking her makeup one last time, she joins her two younger sisters in a provocative dance. The Gypsy girl knows she has to look her best. She is, after all, on an important life mission: catching the eye of one of the hundreds of young Gypsy guys prowling around what locals have dubbed the "bridal market" to initiate a complex ritual of haggling that could lead to marriage. Love's not exactly for sale here. But in the litter-strewn parking lot that hosts the fair, amid blaring Gypsy pop and saucy flirtation, negotiations are churning quietly behind the scenes as families weigh their financial compatibility along with the merits of the prospective bride. Often, the future of entire families is in the balance as these Roma, among the most poverty-stricken people in a deeply impoverished region, seek to forge mutually beneficial unions that will help them weather Bulgaria's brutal economic downturn. Globalization adds to the economic pressures. The families gathered here are part of a community of about 18,000 Roma known as Kalaidzhi, who traditionally make a living as coppersmiths. That trade is dying out, in part because traditional copper pots and pans are being replaced by less expensive goods from China. Valentina Petrova/AP Photo Still, a festive atmosphere reigns at the bridal fair. Most of the girls, even those too young to be considered for marriage, wear gobs of mascara, flashy jewelry and towering high-heels. The colors of the mini-dresses are flashy: electric pinks, blood reds, canary yellows. The boys wear tight black jeans and muscle shirts, often topped with black leather jackets. The bleak surroundings don't dampen spirits: Some 2,000 people have shown up, many in cars rigged with speakers on the hoods to pump out Gypsy pop at full blast. Boys and girls dance side-by-side on the cars, shaking their hips in frenzy. The exuberance stems largely from the fact that, due to the community's conservative values, the youths are so rarely allowed to mingle with the opposite sex. Kalaidzhi, who are almost all devout Orthodox Christians, are known to remove girls from school at 15 or even earlier to keep them from mixing with boys. "I hope to meet new people and to see the parents of the boys, so our parents can meet him," says Hristova, who, at 19, is prime marrying age. It's a good tradition. It's easier for us if our parents approve. It starts, like a high school dance, with groups of boys and girls in separate clumps, occasionally shaking hands and checking each other out - while mom and dad stay discreetly in the background. Apart from these twice-a-year bridal fairs, boys and girls only have contact in Internet chats. So Hristova is happy to leave the realm of Facebook and meet real young men. And at the fair, there is no shortage of youths held in thrall by the way she dances with her sisters, who also wear their showiest clothes. "I want to find someone who is easy to get along with," she says, taking a pause from dancing in high-heeled sandals - "someone whose parents won't interfere after we are together, and someone who's not too rich and not too poor and has a job."