Thrift Store Archaeology
The Big Guy and I stopped over at Brown Elephant today to look for clothes. I needed to find a pair of non-stonewashed jeans for my upcoming a cappella show. At previous shows I've stood out like a white whale in a sea of navy. When even my own mother told me it is time to look for some darker jeans, I know I'd damn well better get to it.
For those of you (most likely: all of you) who are not familiar with the place, the Howard Brown center is a charitable organization that attempts to educate and assist the gay, bisexual, and transgendered community with health and wellness services. The branch we visit happens to be situated right in the middle of the neighborhood that is affectionately nicknamed "Boystown". In a nutshell, this means that the primary contributors of used clothing stem from a demographic that stereotypically:
1. Enjoys shopping
2. Has excellent fashion sense
3. Has a high wardrobe turnover rate
Meaning, of course, that the Big Guy has fantastic success finding tasteful work clothes and awesome clubwear. For me, pickings are generally not as good, but I do run across some quite good items upon occasion.
In addition to six pairs of jeans, I tried on an unusual find today: a fitted, high-necked orange shirt. Yes, orange. It is not a colour I tend to favor, but the cut was interesting enough that I felt I ought to bring it to the fitting room. When I lifted the shirt over my head, I could actually smell the powdery perfume of the shirt's previous owner. Never before had I wondered about who might have worn resale clothing before, but today I found myself speculating about this woman. I imagined that she probably had dark skin if she were wearing orange (though that didn't stop me from trying it on). What did she look like? Was she my size, or shaped differently? Why had she given up a worn, if still quite wearable, shirt? These thoughts distracted me until I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
Holy Seven-of-Nine! I look BUSTY in this thing!
Those of you who know me by sight will immediately recognize what a Herculean labor this constitutes for any garment. It's worn, and I'm not entirely certain when I would actually wear it, but hell - I had to buy the thing, even if for no other purpose than reverse-engineering.
For those of you (most likely: all of you) who are not familiar with the place, the Howard Brown center is a charitable organization that attempts to educate and assist the gay, bisexual, and transgendered community with health and wellness services. The branch we visit happens to be situated right in the middle of the neighborhood that is affectionately nicknamed "Boystown". In a nutshell, this means that the primary contributors of used clothing stem from a demographic that stereotypically:
1. Enjoys shopping
2. Has excellent fashion sense
3. Has a high wardrobe turnover rate
Meaning, of course, that the Big Guy has fantastic success finding tasteful work clothes and awesome clubwear. For me, pickings are generally not as good, but I do run across some quite good items upon occasion.
In addition to six pairs of jeans, I tried on an unusual find today: a fitted, high-necked orange shirt. Yes, orange. It is not a colour I tend to favor, but the cut was interesting enough that I felt I ought to bring it to the fitting room. When I lifted the shirt over my head, I could actually smell the powdery perfume of the shirt's previous owner. Never before had I wondered about who might have worn resale clothing before, but today I found myself speculating about this woman. I imagined that she probably had dark skin if she were wearing orange (though that didn't stop me from trying it on). What did she look like? Was she my size, or shaped differently? Why had she given up a worn, if still quite wearable, shirt? These thoughts distracted me until I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
Holy Seven-of-Nine! I look BUSTY in this thing!
Those of you who know me by sight will immediately recognize what a Herculean labor this constitutes for any garment. It's worn, and I'm not entirely certain when I would actually wear it, but hell - I had to buy the thing, even if for no other purpose than reverse-engineering.