I think my man would leak from somewhere if I wore a pair of sassy sandals or stiletto spikes.
But he likes the look. And thankfully, he likes the thrifting.
I guess if you're reading this and you didn't know me, you'd think I was born in the back of a thrift store. But that's not what happened. I came to this strange place very circuitously.
After I graduated from college with a degree in journalism, I worked as an assistant editor at a glossy magazine that catered to the rich and socially driven people in my city. That was the during the '80s, when the economy had the similar pooh-smell as our current situation. So the magazine folded, but not before I got some exposure to very fine things at photo shoots and interviews. I interviewed Paloma Picasso when she wandered through town to promote her perfume, and she signed a bottle of the scent for me, in gold pen.
After the magazine, I turned my attention to retail advertising, writing first at a high-end chain. Over the course of a few years and a few adult ADD diversions, I moved to different retail chains, becoming the copy chief at two other chains that taught me all about deadlines, fashion, labels and adjectives.
Skip ahead 10 years or so.
I had two kids, no career, and I gained a ton of weight. I finally had enough of my fat self, so I became determined to lose weight. I lost it quickly, and it only took purchasing a few pair of $50 pants that I got too small to wear to point me in the direction of cheap clothes.
Before that time, I thought thrift stores were dank, pitiful places filled with sad, poor people. Man, was I wrong.
And in addition to wandering into a world I'd never known existed, I found great clothes, amazing labels, in fabulous condition.
So why stop at clothes?
Over the years, I became a willing, curious historian of a particular niche or two, and I'd have learned none of what I know now if I hadn't wandered through thrift stores garage sales and estate sales. It's a pasttime I never thought I'd have found, but now I'm here.
I'm no longer a retail snob. In fact, I can't imagine spending shopping in earnest at a mall.
Some folks like to wade through racks of many things that are all the same; I'm partial to looking for the diamond ring in the treasure chest filled with dime store rhinestones.
There are a lot more diamonds to find than you might think.