HI, MY NAME IS SHANDA & I USED TO BE ASHAMED OF "THRIFTING"

“How did you get into this?” 

A question I am asked often; “this” refers to owning a vintage store. 

I always struggle to find the exact answer because there is so much that has brought me to this. My childhood paid tribute to the person I am now- shaping my interests and quirks (as childhood so often does). So it makes the most sense to start there. 

I am the oldest of 5 children. My father is a pastor and my mother is a nurse. They have been my whole life. My father has always been extremely frugal and strict when it comes to where money should be spent- clothing was never under the “expense” category. Only because we usually had what we needed. Shoes, socks, clean underwear, warm coats- the necessities. 

A majority of the clothing we owned was donated by church members or purchased at Goodwill. Let me just make it clear: I HATED wearing (more like forced-to-wear) clothing from thrift stores. 

**I understand that this era of vintage shopping is called “thrifting” but….back then…"thrifting” meant actual thrift stores- Goodwill, Salvation Army, church mission shops, free piles from the neighbor…you get it. 

My earlier memories of thrift embarrassment started in middle school. I was always “the new girl” because my father was moved to different churches every 2-4 years. Kids are assholes and it was extremely difficult for me to make friends. I was SO shy and felt no confidence in what I visually displayed because it was all thrifted crap that was NOT in style or “cool” in the early 2000s. I had what was in my closet and that was that.

I once received this pair of burgundy velour track pants. I think I was in the seventh grade and had 2.5 friends (the ½ friend was this, what I now recognize, an extremely bipolar chick who liked me every other day…for no reason at all). I thought they were the coolest effing thing I ever owned and I literally wore them 2-3 times a week. I cringe thinking of this now because that particular pair of pants was obvious every time I re-wore them. It’s not like they were a pair of jeans. BURGUNDY TRACK PANTS. Geeze, Shanda. 

Morning outfit time was extremely difficult for me because I wanted so badly for the other kids to talk to me- or at least accept me. I was picked on a lot and that made me even more introverted and shy. Shit head middle school kids. 

Anyway, I decided that I HAD TO DO SOMETHING. If thrift stores were my only opportunity to pick “fashionable” clothing, I had to adapt. Hollister and Abercrombie was THE THING. Again, I cringe as I write this. Hollister shirts, layered with a Hollister tank, the stupid seagull always visible so other kids know your status. 

For weeks, I flipped through every single thing in whatever Goodwill my family visited. No Hollister. No Abercrombie. Not even the Saucony shoes with that iridescent crap on the side. But then, one day, my thrifting life changed. 

You know when you go to a thrift store and they bring out the new rack? No one has had the opportunity to touch it and when you are the first to flip through, you feel like the first pirate to find the buried treasure. This particular rack had shirt after shirt of Abercrombie crap and Hollister horror. I thought my 13-year-old heart was going to explode right then and there. I really can’t put into words my excitement. This meant I was going to be accepted because my clothes were cool. After all, everyone else was wearing the same thing! I would blend in and rank a little higher on the invisible popularity scale. 

The next day, I was prepped out so hard. My Collar popped, tanks layered with logos in clear sight. I had the confidence of Lizzie McGuire and I even felt more attractive. I floated to the bus stop, walked into the school, and then to my first class. I remember some random girl that had never spoken to me complimented my shirt. She asked me where I got it and I lied, saying I bought it at the Hollister store in the mall. Like, Duh lady...where else would I have this treasure from?! There was no way in hell that I would reveal my find was a second-hand charity store. Poor people shopped at thrift stores. Seriously, that was the stigma then- which is complete crap, I know. BUT OH BOY! I DID IT! I felt almost confident enough to wave to my crush that day! 

I didn’t, but almost. 

Looking back now, I realize that I didn’t gain any new friends from my Hollister haul. My crush didn’t flirt with me any more than he hadn't before. I wasn’t inducted into the popular group and my mother didn't let me shave my legs any sooner. I did learn, however, that there is power in wearing what makes you feel confident. And confidence is significant for everyone to have. We all deserve to feel confident without validation from anyone other than ourselves. 

I wish I didn't lie to that girl. I wish I would have been more confident- knowing that what she thought about me didn’t mean shit. It never did. 

Regardless of what I would change if I could go back, that period in my life taught me how to “hunt” and keep an open mind for alternative options. I was a thrifting savage before adolescence which is part of the reason why I am the experienced picker that I am today. My passion came from, then, necessity. I had no idea I would be where I am today- the owner of a “thrift” store where people brag about finding used, old stuff. Apparently, it’s a popular thing these days. 

-Shanda