I admit it. I like clothes. I like shopping and outfits and pretty things. Even worse, I like fashion. I read 10-pound fashion magazines half-full of ads. I know the names of designers who make dresses that cost as much as my college tuition. It’s frivolous and shallow, but I love it — and I feel rather embarrassed saying so.
Unfortunately, I can’t afford to support my habit. Even if I could, I’m not sure I’d want to. Do I really want to promise Prada my first-born child just so I can wear a trendy pair of pants? I think not. I can’t afford it, so I have to, well … do it myself. My wardrobe is one part Nordstrom — if that — and five parts worked-over Goodwill.
So on Saturday afternoon in a fit of “I have nothing to wear,” overreaction, I got in my car and headed out West 11th Avenue to the Goodwill by Fred Meyer. What better way to rid myself of post-Halloween hangover echoes than the sweet, sweet, mothbally smell of other people’s unwanted clothes? Apparently I wasn’t the only one with that brilliant idea, because the parking lot was packed.
Thrift store shopping is hit-or-miss. It involves patience, luck and looking at a lot of hot pink blazers and pleated, acid-washed jeans with bows on the ankles before you find what you want. More often than not, you walk out with nothing.
That afternoon, however, I hit the thrifting jackpot. Granted, I spent several hours searching, but in the end, I filled a grocery cart and walked out with the biggest bag Goodwill has. In it were 13 items and a bill for $32.87. In used-clothing land, where shirts can cost as little as 49 cents, a bill like that is unheard of.
The trick is to look beyond first impressions. I had to spend several hours with a needle and thread — and the single of Michael Jackson’s “Bad” on vinyl, which I found nestled between Lawrence Welk’s “Champagne Polka” and Eddie Murphy’s unfortunate foray into music, “Party All the Time” — in order to make my clothes wearable.
When I go thrift store shopping, I don’t look for finished items. I look for ideas. I look for quality fabric or a print that catches my eye, like the shapeless red-and-black striped shirt I bought. It was a size 2X and now fits like a glove. I look for an unusual design, like my new tailored Marc Jacobs-esque button-down that needs the puffy sleeves de-puffed.
I look for something with a good fit, as long as the hideous color can be changed with fabric dye. And I look for that rare thing, something ready to wear, like the perfectly worn-in Levi’s that Diesel would kill to copy.
Altering clothing can be intimidating, but it’s much easier than you might think. If you don’t live in a freaky household with three sewing machines, some are available at the Craft Center.
A lot can be accomplished in a few minutes with a needle and thread, or even fabric glue and safety pins. With luck you end up with what you envisioned: a unique piece of clothing designed for you. Not only do you have the satisfaction of having made it yourself, you can be sure you won’t see the same thing on anyone else.
All you need is a little bit of creativity and the guts to cut into your new old clothes. When the items in question cost little more than the gas it took to get you to the store in the first place, those guts are easy to come by.
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