I'm visiting my parents and their small, mostly agrarian community in Upstate New York. And it is so fabulous. A person can breathe real air and eat real vegetables and see real stars. The little towns around here are a bit surreal; two-block downtowns with beautiful old storefronts, only half full, with diners and antique shops.
The preferred thrift store of my mother is The Community Clothes Closet, and just a few steps away from the farmer's market. This shop is now a Saturday morning tradition. It is run by a beautiful, sweet old woman who is genuinely delighted to have you there and to be there herself. She comments on how beautiful all of your findings are, is always curious to know what you're going to do with them, why you selected them and practically gives them to you. I got a set of four hand-tatted linen placemats with matching napkins (in a cool deco-y pink color) today for $0.50. Really.
Now I have a real belief that anything used or vintage or antique should be respected, not only for their value, but for their experience. Sure, my funky 1950s cocktail dress may be quite the hit at an opening night. But, a girl's gotta respect that that dress has been out dancing and drinking and has seen all sorts of parties before it ever got to me. So many thrifting experiences are in the move-the-most-junk vein that finding that moment of respect for a pair of vintage potholders (how much chicken soup did they see? how many pies did they take out of the oven?) never happens. The woman at The Community Clothes Closet encourages the wonder in the world of thrifting, which makes the treasure hunt all the more rewarding.
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