The Nitty Gritty On Thrifting

Thrifting is a cutthroat sport......
At least, that's what I tell myself whenever I go to embarrassing lengths for a piece of vintage fashion.


Here are some less-than-attractive examples:


1. I fiercely guard my territory. It's weird and unnecessary, but I can't help it. I'm so aggressive... to the extent that when a shopper even APPROACHES my aisle, my nostrils flare...my eyebrows raise to freakish heights... as if my entire body is saying, "Are you lost, bitch??"



2. I sing Matchbox 20 and Celine Dion songs while hanger-surfing. (Strangely, only while at a thrift store. Anywhere else, and those singers are lost on me... Strangest thing...)



3. I bring out the fight in my rivals. Last weekend, I had a rare encounter with an "aisle challenger" (that's what I call someone who's made it past my chilling body language, and then somehow withstood my singing.)

She was a feisty woman... who had the GALL to try to guilt ME into "making way" for HER.

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!

Here's what happened:

Clearly, she hadn't seen me laying down the "I OWN this aisle, bitches!" law, or else none of this would have happened....

Anyway, she comes over to me, passive-aggressively looking me up and down (she's short) and smiles... now, picture an awkward half-chuckle while she says, "Well I guess I'll just have to look over your shoulder if I want to see what's over here, won't I?....."

By now, she's totally crowding me, reaching around me, trying to get me to nudge a bit for her ego's sake.
But I don't. move. an inch....or stop browsing.....no..... I just calmly say,

"Hey....do what you gotta do...."

But my eyes were saying,

"That's one, grandma...One.
You get one....
Don't push me to two, though...
We don't want that, do we?"

She left ten seconds later. Bam..Aisle Dominance: Reestablished.



4. Extreme Thrifting doubles as a killer work out. My left arm carries the weight of no less than thirty items at a time, for a period of no less than an hour, because I don't trust shopping carts... or dressing room attendants. And my right arm whips my way through (literally) every item on a hanger... so I'm basically armless by the end of every thrifting.



5. My feet can (and WILL) fit into any size 5-10. And if not, they'll LEARN, by God...



6. I have killer vintage vision. I spotted this label on a skirt hanging 20 feet away,  and ran hysterically to it ...

There was no one else in the store going for it or anything... it had just been a really dry night.




If I ever smell like moth balls, now you'll know where I've been.