Wednesday, September 26, 2012

Thrift stores make me cry

I've been spending a lot of time in thrift stores lately, thanks to Pinterest. I'm on the lookout for perfect pieces of furniture to refinish, vintage cloth, cheap picture frames, etc. I'm cheap, what can I say? I would rather have a $7 bookshelf that I painted to match a room instead of a brand new one. If a project doesn't turn out right, and I'm sure I have my share of failures ahead of me, I can at least console myself with the fact that I've only wasted less than $20. That is less than a bar tab, even on a light night!

The only bad thing about thrift stores is that I often get the urge to roll up in a little ball underneath the vintage polyester nightgowns and cry. There is a smell in thrift stores that I can't describe, but they make me think of my Nanny. She ran a white elephant sale at the senior citizen community center, and I always got to help her sort through the giant bags of items donated by the resale shop in town. As a little girl, this was magical. Sometimes dozens of huge black Hefty bags would be piled up, full of dolls, toys, costume jewelry, clothes, and books.

I loved it, sitting and playing and sorting and feeling like I was in the middle of a pile of pirate's booty.

But now the smell of clothes that have sat too long in plastic bags, the strange combo of perfumes and lotions that get thrown in, old cardboard, and dust make me miss her even more than I usually do.

I won't be stopping my Goodwill trips any time soon, though. I still need to find a coffee table!

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