Thrift. It’s supposed to be a virtue, but I never thought so. Starting with the definition, “managing or using money in a careful way,” it just smacks, to me, of someone looking over your shoulder. And frowning.
“Was that a good use of money, Judy?”
“What, this coffee?”
“Yes, the mocha java pre-ground beans from Whole Foods.”
“Well, Starbucks discontinued my flavor, so I needed a new one.”
“You couldn’t get something in a can from the supermarket?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“But Judy – so expensive?”
“All I know is, it better be tasty or I can’t drink it, and it has to be strong or I fall asleep in the middle of… Where was I?”
I prefer almost every word listed as thrift’s opposite: Bountiful, generous, munificent, unselfish, honestly, which would you rather see carved on your tombstone?
But there is one glorious exception: I love the stores called “thrift shops,” for many reasons.
You can’t beat the classics. The dress was already “old fashioned” when I found it, almost 30 years ago, but it was built to go the distance: the hem and seams had enough material for alterations, the satin lining helped it slip on and there were little straps and snaps placed specifically to make sure one’s bra straps didn’t wander into the sweet-heart neckline and show. Best of all, it was designed for somebody who wasn’t a skinny-size-nothing. I felt beautiful, which is just what you want in the dress you wear to the rehearsal dinner, the night before your wedding.
It’s never dull. Nowadays in clothing stores you get one style at a time. If it doesn’t look good on you, too bad. Remember the Year of Ponchos? They always made me look like a hearth rug that had been animated by means of some Harry Potter spell. All that, and my arms were still cold! I was so glad to see the back of that trend, only to face one that was even worse: dresses composed entirely of horizontal tiers of cloth. I think they were designed by anorexics, to make themselves look merely slender while all the rest of us turned into stumpy wedding cakes with feet.
But in a thrift shop, the poncho and the wedding cake might share a rack with things from other decades. Or no decade at all. Need a pair of cowboy boots? A sequined caftan? I did, for my temple’s Purim Spiel, three years ago. Thank heaven there are places like the Junior League’s, in Roslyn, where you might find them both.
The thrill of the hunt. In a clothing store all you’ll find is clothing. In a book store, only books. In a thrift shop, all bets are off. You’ll be browsing through the coats or boots and then, spang, turn a corner and find the pepper mill you didn’t realize you wanted. Or a writing desk.
You can change your life. Are you the kind of person who seals leftover meals for the freezer? Plays an upright piano? Needs a matched china service for 12? Makes your own yogurt? Steams your own clothes and saves on dry cleaning? Would you like to be?
I was looking at $15 evening bags, at St. Stephen’s Consignment Shop in Port Washington, when I found a stand-alone steamer. So I bought it. Never again would I have to bring clean but wrinkled things to the dry cleaner’s, just to look nice.
Or change it back. But after a year of that steamer falling out of the hall closet and onto me every time I needed a sweater, I gave up and gave it away. To another thrift shop, of course.
Or just find help for the life you’ve got. Years ago, my brother brought his family to visit the house my husband and I had just bought. It was so empty, I had to rent beds and a crib – but where would I ever find a complete set of crib linens and bumpers, for only a week? I walked past the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation’s shop (now sadly gone) and my problem was solved.
The second best thing about thrift shops is that when you’re done, no matter how big the binge, the entire tab is still likely to be less than three digits.
But the very best thing is that no matter what, your money is sure to be going to a good cause. Shopping with a clean conscience? Priceless!
