The Junk Shop

I remember the first time I went to a thrift shop in San Francisco. I was visiting a friend of mine from college who had transferred to Berkley from San Diego. It was not too long after I had graduated, and I was still under the influence of my sorority existence. My friend, however, had long shed that skin and had transformed herself into a hippie.

She lived in this fabulously old, turn of the century house with bunch of pot smoking artists near Fillmore, and introduced me to the "dingy" second-hand stores of the upper Haight where all the tourists go to find hippies that no longer exist. (This was before Haight street became all posh with the dot.com boom.)

Anyway, I remember walking into these stores, and wanting to gag because it smelled like the homeless (or at least it seemed to me back then.) I couldn't believe my friend was trying on stuff someone else had worn before (a complete stranger, to boot). I didn't want to come off as a sorority snob, so I tried on a few items myself while cringing inside & holding my breath as best I could. But that was as far as I went. There was no way in hell I was gonna buy anything, and I'm sure I was dying to shower, even though I can't really remember what I did next.

The reason I'm writing about this is because my mom just called me telling me she went to the Goodwill store. (That's the California version of DI for those of you in Utah.) I had discovered the store somewhat near my parents' place while visiting them two weeks ago. I ended up purchasing an awesome butcher block for $25, which I'm going to go get over my spring break. I told my mom all about finding goodies at thrift shops, and told her she should go check it out. Didn't think she would, but she apparently ventured into the store because she happened to be driving by.

"I don't know what I was expecting, but I can't believe you found that butcher block there. It was full of junk!" She said.
"You have to look carefully, Mom. You really didn't see anything?" I asked.
"No." A pause, then she said, "I drove home & washed my hands with anti-bacterial soap."

I laughed. I knew exactly how she felt, but she would die to know that she's drank out of second hand glasses at my house. Heehee!

It took me over a decade, but I love thrift shops now. Not only because you can find such cheap, cool finds, but think of all the reusing we're doing as consumers. Instead of constantly buying brand new things which not only depletes the natural resources but are usually made in China by slave waged workers, we can buy used items that would've ended up in the landfill if it weren't for thrift shops. It's an environmental miracle.

Anyway, I can't believe I used to think it was gross buying stuff others had owned before. Don't ask me why... you're speaking to someone who would give clothes away if someone borrowed it. You don't have to return it, just keep it. Or, sure you can have a sip of my drink. Actually, why don't you just have the whole thing. I was definitely a germophobic.

But after living in San Francisco & New York, and having really smelled homeless people (which you really can't in LA or SD because you're always in your car), I realize now that scent I smelled back then in that thrift store was probably all in my head. I don't smell anything in thrift shops anymore, and I simply adore second hand shopping.