You should probably wash that first.

This is another entry in my survive-the-recession series.


One of my favorite past times is thrifting. I often have dreams where I’m walking down a street and there are a few thrift stores to check out in a row and they are filled with interesting objects on sale for pennies. These are the most restful dreams. In the bad dreams, the thrift stores are closed and I can only look through the window.

I think the reason I like it so much is that unlike new things, every object in the thrift store has a story to tell. You might giggle and poke at the brown, rubber fake boob, but then you realize that the reason it’s there is most likely because its wearer died of breast cancer. This may seem like a depressing way to shop, but for a person who loves stories with drama, it makes purchasing new things, duller than dull, as beige as beige can be. They are so blank and storyless.

The other reason I like it is the cheapness of it all. I can buy a new wardrobe for about twenty bucks. So what if it’s stinky and ill-fitting? That’s what dry cleaners are for. Recently, I spent more on fixing a skirt than I bought it for.

Here are some objects you should never purchase in a thrift shop; underwear, sheets, nightgowns, porn, socks, litterboxes, bedside commodes, bandages, and inner ear wash kits. Shoes can be okay provided that the previous owner’s foot hasn’t shaped the shoe too much. If so, it’s like putting your soul into someone else’s body. There is something disquieting about it.

The book section is also a great place to stay well read for cheap. Be prepared to weed through Backstreet Boys picture books and lots of lesbian poetry that was probably purchased during the L.U.G.-y (Lesbian Until Graduation) self-discovery years. Self help is also big. Probably more self help books are donated to thrift shops every year than are sold to actually help people. Pick through the celebrity autobiographies and you might find a Graham Greene first edition.

The grossest used object that I’ve seen for sale was a used bed that someone tried to sell me in Texas. It had a bloodstain on it that was about torso sized. Someone definitely bled out in that bed and the salesman thought he could still get two hundred bucks for it! He was an optimist. I can only imagine the dreams that a person would have sleeping in that bed. Maybe thrifting dreams where the only items for sale were blood soaked? I’ll never know because we passed on it. I should probably add bed to the do not buy list too; yeah, definitely no beds.