Editor’s note: hi, it’s me, I’m the editor. I’m adding this as a kind of introduction slash context for this new series, Tales of Thrift. The content of this series is adapted from the Memoir That Never Was, which I wrote last year. Its themes centered on identity-making and my relationship with secondhand stuff, but in writing it, I ended up synthesizing ideas that have been pivotal to my growth as a person since turning 40. Although I ultimately shelved my Memoir That Never Was indefinitely, I’ve decided that there are parts I would like to share here on the blog. It will get pretty personal/vulnerable at times, but I think the community we’ve created here is a wonderful (and safe) space, and I hope that these posts will inspire reflection and conversation. Cheers!
I considered a bunch of different titles for my book while I was writing it. The Thriftiad was a personal favourite, reluctantly put aside because I felt I might be overestimating the cleverness of my pun. On the other hand, Thrift Odyssey sounded like a low budget sci fi movie. Where am I going with this? Whether they know it or not, every thrifter-by-hobby embarks on a journey the first time they step foot in a thrift store. In that moment they are not a thrifter yet, of course; just a person walking into a store. Some journeys are micro-epics, lasting only as long as it takes the person to do a loop around the store and decide that thrifting isn’t their cup of tea. Some become generational sagas. It goes without saying that each journey is different, as unique as the hero(ine) at the center of it. Nevertheless, I find myself unable to resist looking patterns and making sweeping generalizations based on no scientific method at all. Let’s call it the stages of the hero’s thrifter’s journey. There might be no science in my method, but there is still method in my speculation. Let’s go!
The Kid In the Candy Store
In the beginning, thrifting feels like going to an all-you-can-eat buffet on an empty stomach. There is so much! And it’s all so cheap! Load up the cart! Wheeeeeee! You’re charmed by the quirkiness of random bric-a-brac. Do I need a porcelain hand with flowers painted on it? No, but it’s kitschy-cute and it’s only $4.99, YOLO! You’re amazed to find all the brands you’ve been coveting at the mall at prices the mall can’t beat even on Black Friday. Do I like the pattern on this polyester blouse? Who cares, it’s Anthropologie and it costs less than a Starbucks coffee, throw in cart! You’re suddenly discovering things you never knew you desperately wanted to collect. Pyrex? Vintage globes? Funny pictures of cats? Hmm, I think I have an empty shelf (or wall, or drawer, or table top) at home for that. There is So. Much. Stuff. And. You’re. There. For. All. Of. It.
I hope you don’t think that I’m denigrating this stage of thrifting. On the contrary, I think it’s a very important stage. If you look past the surface – past the giddy spree-buying and its sometimes-questionable results – big things are happening. Thrifting skills are being learned, applied, refined. People often say that such-and-such thrifter has “the eye” for it; that makes it sound like something you’re born with (or not) but it isn’t: it’s something you develop over time and with practice. You learn how to look at things and how to spot things that are worth looking at. You learn how to recognize quality and craftsmanship. You learn about history and tradition in how things are made and used. You make a lot of mistakes, and you learn even more from them. And all of it happens without your even noticing. You’re just having fun and filling up your closet and your house with fun things. This can go on for a while but, eventually, most thrifters come to a crossroad. The house is full. The closet is full. Thrift stores are still full, beckoning. You can stop, or keep going just as before – perhaps a storage unit can solve your problems? Or you can pick a new direction and see where that takes you.
The Treasure Hunter
Seasoned thrifters know what’s what. They know what’s good and they know what they like, and generally speaking, they like the best. Finding the best – the real treasures in the trash heap, so to speak – is a challenge and, once you’ve mastered the basics, who doesn’t love a challenge? Why get excited over Anthropologie when Ulla Johnson is on the table … or maybe under the table, or just around the corner, if you just look hard enough? And Ulla Johnson is not the end; there is always something better – more luxe, more niche, more desirable – to be found. You’re done filling your closet; it’s now time to elevate it. The same thing goes for your house. You have “the eye” and now you have a burgeoning aesthetic sensibility too. You’re no longer buying things simply because they’re cute and cheap; you want value. You’re on the hunt for holy Grails. We’ve all heard that story of the person who found a set of $10,000 Picasso plates at the thrift store. Not ten thousand dollars’ worth of plates: $10,000 per plate. The non-thrifter mind boggles. The thrifter recognizes a challenge.
This is the stage at which a lot of thrifters decide to try their hand at reselling. Think about it: they’ve already bought everything they personally need or want – minus a Holy Grail or three – but there’s a thrift-shaped hole in their lives that still needs to be filled. Thrifting is a hard habit to give up cold turkey. The thrill of a successful hunt doesn’t depend on what happens once the hunt is over. Ergo, thrifting for other people can be just as exciting as thrifting for oneself, with the added bonus of making one a little bit of profit on the side. In our side hustle-mad culture, it’s more surprising when thrifters don’t become resellers than when they do. After all, how often are we told to turn hobbies into secondary sources of income so we can power sprint towards capitalist Nirvana? I’d guess at least 72 times before lunchtime, assuming one spends even a modest amount of time on social media.
A discussion of the ethics of reselling could fill a whole chapter and since reselling has never played a major role in my life, that’s not a chapter I feel like writing. But having dabbled in it once or twice, I can tell you this: it involves a lot more work than people think. To be a successful reseller, it’s not enough to be good at thrifting. You have to be good at selling, which is an entirely different skillset. You need to know what people want to buy, and how to make them buy it from you. You need to understand pricing strategy, overhead, and profit margins. You need to know how to account for the time and skilled labour that goes into every sale, from sourcing desirable product, to cleaning, mending and photographing that product, to prepping it for shipping or delivery, and every customer support issue in between. And you need to have capital. Selling requires inventory, and inventory costs money – money you have to spend before you’ve made a single dime in sales. Make any wrong move, and your inventory will sit for a long time or, worse yet, never sell; suddenly, you’re not making money, you’re losing it. I know very successful resellers, and I know resellers who’ve barely ever made a profit, and they are all really good thrifters. Personally, I am wary of turning hobbies into jobs as a matter of general principle, but I have the privilege of a good income to say that.
The Connoisseur
Your closet has been elevated all the way to the rafters. It is a veritable who’s who of fashion. And that burgeoning aesthetic sensibility? It has reached its final stage of maturity; no longer a chrysalis, it is now a resplendent butterfly. That butterfly has a vision, or maybe it is a vision, I don’t know, where am I going with this? Ahem. There is a vision. Neither brand nor value drives your hunt now; they are both subservient to your vision, and your vision’s in the driver seat. In a way, this stage is a mirror image of the first one; you are, once again, buying things solely for the pleasure they bring you, but that pleasure is now informed by all the things you have learned in the meantime. It is not a child’s pleasure in a shiny toy; it’s the connoisseur’s pleasure in the item that epitomizes their erudition and taste. You buy less, but you buy it for keeps.
Well, at least until the vision changes. We are forever learning, growing, and evolving; our visions evolve with us. That does mean there are other stages of the thrifter’s journey yet to come. I don’t know. If they exist, I haven’t reached them yet, nor have I met anyone else who has either. Is there a point at which you just … stop thrifting? Inconceivable! But then again, there was a time I couldn’t have imagined leaving a piece of Anthropologie clothing behind at the thrift store – I am willing to contemplate the possibility of things beyond the reach of my current imagination. Discovering things you didn’t know existed is part of the fun of thrifting. It’s that element of surprise – and wonder – that keeps even grizzled thrift veterans like me going back. We’ve seen it all … but there is always more.
