#thriftanthology

[thriftanthology]

Seventeen Thoughts on: The Mad Fleur-de-Lis Vest 1) Question: are sweater vests like the Mafia? In that—just when you think you’re out—they pull you back in? 2) I do not know. 3) But I think it very likely. 4) I wore a LOT of sweater vests when I was a lass, back in the 1990s. 5) I was VERY cool. 6) By which I mean—I was not cool at all. 7) But I was a chilly bird, and chilly birds do benefit from wearing warm, toasty sweater vests in the autumn. And in the winter. And (let us confess it freely) sometimes even in the spring. 8) I used to wear sweater vests a LOT, you guys. 9) Did they look good on me? Oh, no. Of course they didn’t. They made me look like the villainous, preppy antagonist in one of the less respected John Hughes movies. 10) But still, I wore them. Until I went to college and… I don’t know. Got warmer? Got more anxious about looking dorky? Who can say? But for a time, sweater vests and I—we amicably but definitively parted ways. 11) Only to be reunited now, when it is the 2010s, and sweater vests are less fashionable than ever (I think? But then, what the heck do I know.) 12) I had no desire whatsoever to redip my toes into those turbulent Sweater Vest Waters—until I saw this beauty. 13) Because it is covered in fleurs-de-lis, and I love, love, love New Orleans. 14) Because it is covered in fleurs-de-lis, and I love, love, love St. Louis (and I live there now? In the sense of… living there? As a resident? Who… resides there? That can’t be right.) 15) (BUT IT IS.) 16) And this vest was supposed to be $10, but that particular day, they’d brought the price down to $2. 17) And just like that—to the Land of Sweater Vests I gladly returned, welcomed back just as though I had never left.

[thriftanthology]

Twelve Thoughts on: Virgin Impractical 1) I am not a big believer in astrology. I am a Virgo, you see, and Virgos are supposed to be meticulously (nay, even obsessively) well-organized, and tidy, and precise, in both their homes and their habits. 2) HA. No one bothered to tell my desk, or my closet, or my million other untidy surfaces and interiors that I am a Virgo, I suppose. 3) But on the other hand. Virgos are supposed to be tremendously big fans of words. (Guilty.) They are supposed to be much more on the practical than on the romantic side of the spectrum. (Double guilty.) They are supposed to have an ugly tendency towards being very critical, both of themselves and of other people. (Triple guilty.) 4) Ugh. Maybe I am a big believer in astrology, after all. 5) But then again. Virgos are also supposed to be tight-fisted and clear-eyed, when it comes to their spending patterns. (Sadly—not at all guilty.) I am very un-Virgo-like, in that I am very easily seduced by pretty, flimsy things, which will bring me great joy for the day, but which will also fall to pieces within the week. Very un-sensible. 6) Very un-Virgo. 7) Take this sheer, floral madness, for example. This thing is going to get WRECKED. By me, I mean. (I do not think anyone else has designs on trashing the lovely thing.) Its mesh is so soft and pretty… and readily tearable. Its closure is so fragile and delicate… and destroyable. I give this beauty… two wears? Maybe three, if I am lucky? 8) Very unwise, then, to have purchased it at all. I should have invested in a solid, sturdy sweater instead. Or maybe in some staunch, practical shoes. Or in like… a raincoat, or something. 9) But I did not. Indeed, I could not. I was quite literally incapable of leaving this wonder behind. 10) So I defy you, zodiac. Look into my Thrifting Heart, and see if you find one flicker of Virgin Practicality dwelling therein. 11) Go on. 12) I dare you.

[thriftanthology]

Sixteen Thoughts on: I Did Not Buy It Because: The Terrrrrible Jumpsuit Edition 1) I have wanted a jumpsuit for, like, ever. 2) (Actual time: a year or two.) 3) (But danged if it does not feel like forever.) 4) Each and every time I have gone to Goodwill for the past handful of months, I have approached the dress section with great hope. Perhaps today will be the day when said dress section contains a delightful, jumpsuit secret! Perhaps that long sundress is actually a long jumpsuit! Perhaps those droopy overalls are really a droopy jumpsuit! 5) Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. 6) But—not yet. 7) And then—the great day arrives. The dress section DOES contain a delightful jumpsuit secret! And what you thought was a boring-patterned dress is actually a boring-patterned jumpsuit! 8) Which makes it, of course, not boring, at all. 9) But the devil of it is that one dwells inside a stubbornly material form (isn’t that so often the bummer to end all bummers?) And one’s stubbornly material form Will Not Have this jumpsuit. 10) Placed on one’s material body, the crotch is completely wonkus, the torso weirdly long, the legs excessively short. 11) I love this jumpsuit. 12) But alas. 13) It does not love me back. 14) Pity. 15) And so, once again, one has to trust. Has to throw this rare and precious jumpsuit fish back into the broad, forever-churning Goodwill Sea. 16) And hope for a better catch tomorrow.

[thriftanthology]

Twelve Thoughts on: I Did Not Buy It Because: Shimmery Fish Net Cape Edition 1) Did I really let a shimmery cape which resembles nothing so much as a sparkly disco fishing net... slip through my net? 2) It would seem that I did. 3) Pity. 4) And yet, sometimes, practicality sadly trumps one’s desire to always purchase garments which are charmingly, unrelentingly bizarre. 5) Because, charming as it is, this sucker is also HEAVY (belying its look of lightness.) 6) And this beauty also makes some serious noise. One clanks when wearing it, as though one was garbed in medieval armor. 7) Not to say that medieval armor isn’t great. (And that, in context, it wasn’t tremendously sensible.) 8) But even its most ardent defenders cannot claim that it would make for good daily wear. 9) And speaking of which: where WOULD I wear this lovely, exactly? Either daily, or in any other way? 10) I… cannot think of a single place, or occasion. 11) Which is more of an indictment of my life than it is of this garment, I am very well aware. 12) But still. Back into the thrifting sea with you, you beautiful tropical fish. May the person who purchases you truly deserve you, and be as delightfully, gloriously weird as you.

[thriftanthology]

Eleven Thoughts on: I Did Not Buy It Because: Fries Before Guys Edition 1) Goodness knows I love me a silly slogan T-shirt. 2) And I’ll be darned if this particular silly slogan T-shirt isn’t pretty darned cute. 3) But on the other hand—I am not 14 years old. 4) And on yet another hand—is this a sentiment with which I truly agree? 5) I mean, do not mistake me. Fries can be very wonderful. Let it never be said that I do not worship at the Altar of Grease. 6) But are fries greater than guys, really? 7) Jon Stewart is a guy, after all. 8) And he is a being far greater than any fry. 9) If this shirt said chocolate, now—that would be different. 10) I grant you, this shirt’s slogan would no longer rhyme, or scan, or be cute. 11) But danged if I would not both buy and believe it.

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Seven Thoughts on: I Did Not Buy It Because—The Stunning-Patterned Dress Edition 1) Dang it, this dress is SUCH a great, weird pattern. And such a great, weird pattern on such a cute, flippy, little sundress, to boot (and I have been running around saying how very much I want a new cute, flippy, little sundress for absolute WEEKS now. EONS in thrifting time.) 2) And I mean, it fits me okay. It… is not suffocatingly tight. It… is not excessively loose. It… fits me in a perfectly reasonable way. 3) But is it actually, you know, flattering on me? Does it not just FIT my body but also actually SUIT my body? 4) Ehhhhh. I mean, not so much. It presents no assault on my person, but neither does it do it any favors. 5) But really, should I care about such things? Am I not the woman who is always ardently defending the shapeless, lumpy weirdness of 1980s Japanese designers’ work to my students (who typically, sensibly shrug same off as hopelessly unwearable)? Am I not a fashion historian? Am I not supposed to care little for the conventionally pretty and pleasing, and much for the striking and the unusual? 6) Ehhhhh. I mean, I guess so. But sometimes a gal just wants to, you know… look purty? And perhaps that it is a basic desire, to possess. 7) But really. If a sundress does not fully embrace me, why should I bother to seek to embrace it?

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Thirteen Thoughts On: I Did Not Buy It Because: Bile-Colored Shirt Edition 1) Oh, how very, very long I have wished for a shirt the color of bile. 2) I have shirts the colors of oceans and blushes and clouds. And I do love them. Pretty, pleasant things, those. 3) But a bile-hued shirt? Such a wonder has, to date, entirely eluded me. 4) It is not that such shirts do not exist. As you can see above (and as you doubtless knew, already) they most certainly do. And they even make their way to dear Goodwill, sometimes. 5) And yet, we still seem to be doomed, bile shirts and I. An ill-starred pairing. Always destined to meet, and then to part. 6) And it is not because shirts in this particular hue make me look consumptively wretched. (Though, of course, they do.) I am totally down to look consumptively wretched. 7) But the devil of it is, bile-colored shirts—they tend to be boring. Boring in cut. Boring in style. Boring in fit. 8) And I just cannot have any truck with Boring, anymore. 9) Here is my theory. (Note: I have absolutely no support for said theory. But indulge me.) Bile-covered garments are already so inherently weird (that sickly color! That deathly hue!) that they make many designers nervous. They do not want to double-down on The Weird (whoever would buy something both an odd color AND an odd fit?), so when it comes to style, shape, and cut, they play it default to playing it safe. They default to boxy, plain, basic. 10) Pity. 11) Because what this does is to lock me into a cycle of always, always, always trying on bile-colored garments, and never, ever, ever finding one which is sufficiently odd enough to claim as my own. 12) But. As the thrifter’s motto goes, while I thrift, I hope. 13) And surely we must believe that Weird always triumphs over Normal, in the end?

[thriftanthology]

Five Thoughts on: Dressing Like Stevie Nicks 1) There comes a time in every woman’s life where she needs to ask herself: why am I suddenly dressing like Stevie Nicks all the time? 2) A weighty question. 3) Which lacks an easy answer. 4) Unless that answer is: 5) Because it’s awesome?