While there, I overheard a shopper saying to the cashier how much she enjoyed browsing in thrift stores. She called it "Thrift Therapy." Her phrase struck a chord with me, and I have been savoring the concept since. My gratitude goes out to my fellow thrifty patron; she put the perfect label on how I feel about shopping in places like Saint Agnes.
People close to me know that I really don't enjoy shopping. I typically buy only necessities, and my overarching goal is to pay no more than what I feel is reasonable. Don't get me wrong; I'm not neurotic about it, just conservative, though the injustice of spending upwards of $50 for a single blouse made in a country known for paying below-poverty-level wages is usually enough to nix it for me.
I know someone who absolutely lives for buying and possessing things with certain brand names, who believes that the higher the price point, the higher the status an item bestows on its owner. It is to her I write here, in praise of thrift shopping.
Dear -----, I understand the thrill of buying something new. It has never been worn, carried, driven, played, applied or otherwise used by anyone but the original owner. It comes tagged or packaged, complete, graced with unsullied beauty and uncompromising usefulness, perhaps even with a lovely smell: in short, its own perfection. All these features are wonderful, and may be extended at length by loving care.
Of course, the moment you achieve the prize it begins to tarnish, doesn't it, though? Edmunds.com published a startling graphic about the depreciation rate of a new car, starting with driving it off the lot. They estimate a loss of about 9% of the purchase price the first minute of ownership. So what is the true value of anything we buy new, at any point in its life?
Clothing can easily disappoint. Even with careful attention to laundering instructions, some pieces may shrink or begin to fade or pill. The new item suddenly looks or fits wrong, and it lands at the back of the closet. All that money spent turns into something marginal rather quickly. The rush of the acquisition has already burned out, probably before you got home with it.
Other things grow weary, too. They experience the aging process at varying speeds, but eventually everything falls into that all-purpose dustbin called "used." Certain durable things stay beautiful and useful, like dishes, hand tools, furniture...only to suffer the indignity of becoming "dated." Then we have to decide whether to do as our grandparents did and wait until something breaks to replace it, or go ahead and spend money again to update.
My personal shopping inhibitors are crazy pricing; limited choices of goods made in the USA; avoiding impulse purchases; feeling satisfied with what I have most of the time; finding better uses for my discretionary funds; being creative with making things rather than buying them; and an abiding belief in the tenets of recycle/reuse. People tell me I need to loosen up and enjoy shopping more, but, in truth, I find it very stressful because it seems so often unjustified.
Now, my extravagent friend, let me explain why thrift shopping is different. The items for sale have been donated. There's no corporate entity trying to make its profit margin, inflating the prices to pay every link in the retail chain. There's no luster to wear off; it's already gone, and you know exactly what you're getting. There's no letdown in expectations, because you're buying something on its merits. Used does not necessarily mean used up; I have found many gems among the offerings.
The shopping experience itself is both scintillating and relaxing. There are no crowds at the thrift shop, and no competition for the wares on sale. I may go with the hope of finding something particular, but many times I just enjoy the slow-paced browsing and the potential to get lucky. No salesperson hovers around, buzzing annoyingly. Saint Agnes is staffed by volunteers, helpful if you ask but not looking to score a commission on your purchase. The lack of an agenda by anyone in the place is refreshing, and I enjoy seeing the familiar faces there.
Finding USA-made products is often easier among older things, which I consider another positive feature of thrift shopping. I feel better about buying used imported products than new ones, simply because they are in the domestic system already. To me that makes them American, and their purchase on this go-around helps our economy rather than filling the coffers somewhere else.
The monies spent stay local, in the form of programs for the church or aid to the community, a fulfilling support-a-good-cause facet of places like Saint Agnes Thrift Shop. Consumers of modest means are served well, and everyone gets a deal. Why not enjoy the benefit of a great bargain while donating to a charity? Why not give back a little in this unassuming, virtually effortless way?
Finally, think of the impact on the environment. These items were produced in the past, so the resources to create and distribute them were already expended. The only new costs incurred to put them back into the consumer stream are the fuel to drop them off at the shop; the operations expenses for their temporary storage; cleaning, tagging and bagging costs; and the energy to get them to their new homes upon purchase.
Let me circle back to the idea of "Thrift Therapy" for a moment. I hope you can see now why that phrase resonated with me, by all I have shared here with you. Of all the little pleasures in life, this one is so innocuous yet effective! It encompasses garage sales in many respects as well, yard sales, tag sales, consignment shops, and so on. I leave you with one last thought on the subject: your credit card limit will never be jeopardized at most thrift shops...cash and checks rule, so go with a smile on your face, a short wish list, and a small mad money stash in case you find that sweet deal.
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