I remember when I first got the bug. I was 16, I had no money, and “Pretty In Pink” had just been released. I was fascinated by Molly Ringwald’s wardrobe — her character, if you recall, was not one of the “richies,” so she went super boho-chic and found all her clothes at thrift shops. She looked amazing in her one-of-a-kind outfits, and she put them together with minimal cash.
Maybe I could do this, I thought.
There weren’t many good thrift shops where I was growing up in Vermont, so I began by scouring clearance racks, yard sales, and my mom’s poorly edited closet (where many of my favorite items were to be found). It took a little longer to find the clothes I wanted, but the search scratched a certain creative itch, and the price was certainly right (especially in my mom’s closet). I still recall many of the ensembles I put together those last few years of high school — some with chagrin, but some with pride and oh-I-wish-I-still-had-that.
All through college, I honed my skills of dressing on the cheap. The college town where I went to school (Burlington, Vermont) had some fantastic thrift stores (Old Gold, anyone?), and I learned the basics of good thrift shopping at those places. This carried me well through graduate school (shoutout to The Garment District in Kendall Square, Cambridge!) and the early days of my first real job-job, as an editor at a publisher of scientific journals, which had a fairly strict dress code (I am forever grateful to Harvard Square’s Second Time Around).
I will admit that when I lived in New York City, I let my thrifting skills get a little rusty. I worked on Fifth Avenue as a book editor, and I had no mouths to feed other than my own. So, yeah, I went retail for a while. But now, as a mom of two, I am a devoted thrifter once again. I try to buy all our clothes secondhand, with the exception of underwear and bathing suits. Yes, I have even bought used socks, if they look like they’re in good condition.
But thrifting is not just about saving money. Part of it is the thrill of the hunt. There’s no challenge in a boutique or a mall; no look-what-I-found satisfaction that comes with the purchase. Speaking of satisfaction, thrift shopping carries a certain self-righteous smugness that goes along with buying something that’s truly green — buying used is reusing/recycling, after all. I’m also happy to have my dollars support a charitable cause (my favorite thrift stores in the Valley are the Cooley Dickinson Hospice Shop and the Cancer Connection Thrift Store in Northampton, and the Hospice Shop of the Fisher Home in Amherst, all of which support local nonprofits).
If I had to boil down thrift shopping to a few fundamental principles, here’s what I’d say:
1. Visit often. Thrift stores can be overwhelming. Sometimes they’re huge; they’re almost always a hodgepodge of colors, styles and sizes. If you visit a store regularly, you’re more likely to be able to navigate the place with success — and to spot the good stuff a little more easily.
2. Don’t be put off by the ugly stuff. Appreciate the ugly stuff. The ugly stuff is what allows the good stuff to remain in hiding until you find it. It’s there.
3. If it’s not really right, it’s really wrong. I’ve learned this the hard way. If it doesn’t fit, if it’s a bad color, if it’s just not a flattering shape for you — it doesn’t matter how good a deal it is, you shouldn’t have it in your closet.
4. Don’t forget to donate stuff back (the cardinal rule). Your old stuff is the lifeblood of thrift shops — it’s what keeps ’em going. And you probably have something in your closet that I want to buy.
Naomi Shulman’s work has appeared in many publications including The New York Times, The Washington Post and Yankee Magazine, as well as on NEPR and WBUR. Follow her on Twitter: @naomishulman.