Lately, I've been thrifting for clothing a lot more often than I used to. I don't claim for a moment to be an expert on the subject; in all honesty I never even did it on a regular basis until about six years ago. Despite my late arrival to this particular party, during my middle school and high school days, thrifting was certainly a popular activity among certain circles of my peers. I grew up primarily in the Pacific Northwest, and the coolest reply you could offer when someone complimented you on your nubby-ass flannel was "Thanks, I got it at Value Village for $3.97." (Because it wasn't enough to simply patronize a thrift shop, you had to make sure everyone knew it, lest your edgy coolness cred slip a few notches).
People thrift for all sorts of reasons. For some it's a hobby, or it's all their budget allows, or the discovery of a once unwanted treasure makes you giddy every time you look at it, long after the day of purchase. It was during my high school days in the mid and late nineties when the social stigma of buying things (particularly clothing) second hand began to fade away. Some kids at my private, comfortably suburban high school wore their thrifted finds as a badge of honor. Incidentally, these were also often the same kids who rolled up to school in shiny Land Rovers that turned around to proudly proclaim that a portion of their outfit was procured at Goodwill. I didn't shop second hand in high school, but I also never bought into that need to be boastful. To wear something second hand out of sheer novelty's sake and brag about it seemed insincere, and reeked of class tourism. Did my classmates who got their clothes from the dollar bin at St. Vincent de Paul because that was honestly all they could afford also shout from the rooftops where they went shopping? You get one guess.
Juvenile social politics of thrifting aside, I've been quite contemplative over the whole process as of late, and have a few thoughts to share with you from what I've learned over the years. This is what I have found works for me, not necessarily me telling you how to do it.
1.
Bring socks - I don't know about you, but I do not often wear socks. I'm usually sockless in flats most days and only occasionally wear tights. This means that when I see some shoes or boots on the thrift store shelf that I wish to slip into, I end up wincing in a fit of squeamishness as I ease my naked foot inside. If that doesn't squick you out you can just ignore this tip. Onward!
2.
Bring a tape measurer - Let's say you're browsing and come across something you might get for someone who isn't there with you. It's nice to be sure that the inseam on those trousers will be the right length for your boyfriend or the waist on that ski sweater won't be too tight on your sister. Because items have already been worn and washed a lot, you can't assume that pair of 32 x 34 jeans are actually still that size, and if an item is from the 1980s or earlier, there's a good chance the size on the tag sewn into the garment is not consistent with today's sizing.
3.
Shop like a buyer - If you find something but then bring it home only to find an untreatable stain or unfixable flaw, your awesome score wasn't that cool after all. Some stains and ripped seams are fixable, but there are few ways to know that it's a sure thing when you're standing there in the store. That's why I pretend I work at a very selective, snooty vintage boutique when I'm looking over clothing. I don't just scan the front for obvious coffee spills. I check for working zippers, missing buttons, pilling on sweaters, the bottom hems of trousers, and I always check armpit areas for yellowing, especially on white garments. You have to know your threshold for what level of wear and tear you'll accept, then check garments accordingly.
4.
Have a regular spot - It's cool to shop around, but having one special place in your rounds where everybody knows your name can pay off over time. You'll get to familiarize yourself with the store's schedule in terms of when sales and specials take place; the staff may even start telling you about them before they even happen. There's a place I go to where everyone has come to know me, and I sometimes get a discount for no reason at all (I don't ask for it, it just randomly happens), especially if a certain lady is working. $27.75 gets reduced to $20 with the tap of her register keypad. I am always sure to thank her. Kindness goes a long way.
5.
Consider leggings - I used to go to this awesome thrift store near my apartment building in Chicago. They had great stuff and the prices were spectacular, but the anomaly was that there were no dressing rooms. You just had to try stuff on out in the open. My friend and I quickly learned to adapt to this oddity and wore big loose dresses, tight tank tops, and leggings when we'd go shop. It's easy to try on skirts this way. Dressing rooms in thrift stores are generally pretty iffy anyways, with broken locks on doors or curtains that could accidentally be pulled away from you with no notice.
6.
October sucks - The month of October is not a particularly friendly one for thrifters. With the arrival of Halloween at the month's end, encountering price gauging for those seeking costuming fodder is commonplace, and clothing gets picked over at a more rapid clip. It is also a bad month to try to sell your used clothing at places like Buffalo Exchange or Wasteland; their sales floors are oversaturated already for the masses who have nothing but Halloween on the brain.