Goodwill Hunting

I absolutely love getting a deal and since I am not independently wealthy  I don’t enjoy idle, recreational clothes shopping because it rarely meets my own criteria of 1. finding exactly what I’ve already envisioned and 2. a good price.

I also don’t need yet another striped shirt that I will loathe by the time I get home (and that I actually knew in the store that I didn’t really care for) and worse still, that I paid too much for.

One of the things that I like best about myself lately is that this seldom, if ever happens now; I’ve bought too many items in my life because the assistant took a great deal of time with me and I felt badly or, I was desperately hungry and couldn’t face another fun-house changing room mirror.

Which is why many years ago, I became what is now widely known as a Thrift Shopper.

Second-hand offers many other advantages aside from the staggeringly low price tag – I can often find just what I want!

There are not many stylish, edgy prints available in my retail price budget; for example, only today I opted to shop in a Real Store and was surrounded by an uninspired selection of Old Lady t-shirts featuring interlocking sail boats or tiny anchors (you know, for the summer) or a plethora of dull, sleeveless “shells” in that kind of cheap-o polyester that no antiperspirant can compete with.

Strangely, many items were also that harsh violent pink color that is usually associated with carbolic soap or the confectionery at the Dollar Store (possibly it’s the same thing?) and certainly not flattering to any (human) complexion that I have seen.

For the few things that I did pick off the rack to investigate, I quickly returned them when I realized that “Babe” or “I’m a Star” had been spelled out in uneven, wilting rhinestones across the chest. (And no, I was not in the teen section of the Big Box Store you may be thinking of.)

Conversely, I once found a fitted, fine wool Italian Equestrian-styled jacket for less than the price of lunch and on another occasion, a series of loose flowing  cotton shirts, all swirled ocean greens and Marc Chagall blues and as soft as a cloud when your arm traveled down the sleeve. These clothes make me feel very good – and hopeful somehow.

It’s the exact opposite of what one feels wearing a shirt with you know, a giant seahorse on.

(Because it’s summer).

Having said all this though, Thrift Shopping also has a massive downside I must acknowledge and that is, the days when you don’t find something wonderful and experience a piercing, humiliating moment when you realize that you are grubbing through bins and racks of other people’s  “cast-offs” as my lovely mother (who would be horrified) would say.

The slightly sweet smell of whatever that smell is (I choose to believe that it’s not decay) may also suddenly be palpable and if you already have low blood sugar, my advice is to just leave. (And travel with a banana in future to cut this feeling off as it presents itself …)

There will be other, better days ahead and perhaps that elusive trench coat or Chanel [anything] will soon be mine/yours.

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