Thrifting for Life

I was 15 when I had my first real experience of thrift shopping. At the time, I was living in small town Illinois, and we - my mother and I - went to slightly bigger town Illinois, where main street was lined with thrift shops. My mom had made me a promise, as it was getting to be my 16th birthday. In our family, it’s tradition that the girls - and I was a girl at the time - get a hope chest when they turn 16. She had promised me I could pick mine out and have whatever I wanted. And thus, we come to this fateful day.

We were perusing the shops, and we stopped into one in particular. It was called Country Thrift or something similar. When you walked in, it was like being transported to a different time and place. The smell was old and musty, like your grandma’s house or a library. Everything had a slight layer of dust - it was clear that the shop didn’t see a lot of movement. The upstairs was your pretty ordinary thrift and antique store - clothes, tchotchkes, home decor - all in that kind of rustic, country home aesthetic.

But then we stepped down to the basement level and oh my god can you say trunks galore??? There were steamer trunks, cedar chests, old suitcases, old hat boxes and doctors bags, orange crates - just stacks upon stacks of them. And then I saw it - the green trunk. From the moment I laid eyes on it, I knew I wanted to go home with it. I fell absolutely in love.

It stood about three feet tall, was about as wide as an oven, and about half as deep. The green was deep and sagey, and metal all patinated and tarnished, rivets dotting up the sides. It was gorgeous and in excellent shape for how old it was. I opened it up and it was lined with newsprint from the 1920s. There were hinged shelves that rose out, and the cavern beneath lay empty for whatever treasures you may want it to hold.

This was the one. I knew it in my heart that this was the trunk I wanted for my birthday. This was the one I wanted to be my hope chest. The answer when I told my mom as such was crushing. “We’re only looking today.”

Try as I might to persuade her, it was a no. I left behind my green trunk, trying not to cry on the way home. By the time we had the money to purchase it (about $150), it was taken up by someone else, lost to me forever. It was then and there I learned the most valuable lesson of thrifting - if you love it, so will someone else, so you best buy it while you can.

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Despite my woes from my first experience, I fell in love with thrifting. At my first real job, there was a thrift store right down the street that I would frequent during lunch time, just taking a walk down to look at all the vintage fashion and jewelry. When I moved employers, I was delighted to find there was not one, but two Goodwills on my way home. You can guess where most of my paychecks went. When I returned to school, it was in a town full of thrift stores, not to mention that Poshmark had just become uber popular.

After dropping out, I started what turned out to be my dream job (though my boss wasn’t my dream person to work for, the job was everything) - working as personal assistant to an antique/vintage booth owner. Basically - working for a small scale thrift store day in and day out. I would research merchandise, help set up displays in her various booths, help source and transport new merchandise, make display pieces - anything and everything, you name it, I did it. I fell absolutely in love with the world of antiques and thrifting.

I knew from the short time I was there (we parted on ideological differences - I was “too queer”) that I wanted to be a part of this world - I wanted to have my own booth. Slowly but surely, I have been working toward that goal. When I parted ways with my mother (many of you know this story, but if you don’t, check out my other Vocal posts to get filled in), I got myself a small lot of what became my first merchandise for my business - The Purple Ibis.

This included my childhood bedroom furniture, flipped and painted; my collection of old porcelain dolls; my mother’s antique roll top desk; my collection of miniature tea sets; my American Girl dolls from childhood - both of which are discontinued characters; my mother’s old Cabbage Patch doll; and a random assortment of ceramics. This is the foundation upon which my (very) small business has been built.

From there, my fiancée's family has been a great help, donating items to my business as they Marie Kondo their home. I’ve also been lucky enough to find items on Facebook Marketplace, or on the side of the road. I’ve got windows from the 30s and 40s that I’m painting scenes onto and selling, old vases and candle holders I’m upcycling, a coffee table with a granite insert that needs refinishing, and a reproduction Chinese porcelain bowl with “The Hunt” scene on it, to name a few.

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I know a lot of these entries will be actual items people have found while thrifting - and I won’t lie, I certainly have my own finds, as nearly all of my furniture is thrifted - but for me, the most important ‘find’ in thrifting is my passion and purpose. Before I had that job as a personal assistant, I was really drifting in life. I didn’t know what I wanted to do or who I wanted to be. I had just survived a mental hospital stay, been thrown out of my home, dropped out of college, and was dealing with chronic illness issues. I had no idea who I was or what I was going to do. That job, despite my misgivings with the employer, gave me a new lease on life.

I had loved thrifting before, sure, but this was something new. I had passion, I loved showing up to work every day, because everyday was a little different. It was new and exciting, and I got to learn new things, and put old skills, like merchandising, back into use. It was thrilling for me, and despite me technically only having a 35 hour work week, I found myself working much more than that because I was so intrigued. I spent hours doing research and writing essays, creating social media content, and making display pieces out on my balcony. I had life again.

Life is the thing I’ve found while thrifting. Figuratively, and now, pretty literally. My thrifting business is starting to pay our bills. I’m making money, and doing what I love. I never thought that thrifting could be my life, but it is. So, while some people are touting the cool shirt they found, or the awesome bread maker, or that one glass that turned out to be Swarovski crystal - I get to tout that I found my calling - and I think that’s pretty neat.