Archive for the ‘Thrifting’ Category

A Secret About Sears

Tuesday, August 3rd, 2010

These days it seems like only the few, fawned over brands bother with building goods handsome and built to last. But once upon a time that wasn’t the case, and even at not-so-chic Sears you’d find scrumptious sweaters made by Ohio Knitting Mills and wingtips as deadly and dapper as the four in my collection.

The first pair wound up in my possession randomly, as part of a costume for a film, and a size and a half too large for me. But the second set were selected because they were the most striking of all the brown wingtips in my size at a local vintage shop.

The rest were sought out specifically on e-bay, and although the era and interior Sears emblem varies a bit from style to style, each pair is rock-solid outside and pillow soft inside. With vintage wingtips, if the leather is too pebbly or too dull the shoe reads as too dusty, dated and drab – but the Sears shoes are grained and glossed just perfectly so.

And, apropos for a Sears shoe, even a rare vintage one, I’ve never paid more than $19.99 for a pair. If Alden or Trickers wingtips elude you economically, go see the softer side of Sears.

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Shine On

Monday, June 21st, 2010

Recent foraging through my favorite thrift store had proved fruitless for months on end, but the curse was finally broken this week with some shiny, fine finds.

Totally “Hot” bling – for my house, not me.

The “family portrait” of all I found including a massive quartz crystal that Speidi would die for.

The fine print on my ‘lil British tin.

I found a place for all my shiny finds in almost no time; although the lamp is resting in a closet, waiting for some shade.

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Filed Under Awesome

Thursday, June 17th, 2010

Last weekend for 75 cents I found a plastic bag of these vote-baiting nail file freebies from the late 1980s.

I don’t know how effective they really would’ve been as a campaigning tool, but as retro mementos they are clear winners. The powder of the blue and the brick of the red in these specific shades are a thing of the past.

I’m thinking of going back to where I got the first bag of files, buying about ten more, then sticking them like bouquets in a quartet of metal vases. But I’d need to host a party with some sort of coinciding theme in order to be that dweeby about dumb old nail files – and I can’t think of a logical enough link.

Yet.

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Homemade Vintage

Wednesday, May 12th, 2010

Ever since this winter, Monday morning through Friday afternoon I pretty much won’t pop a single thing into my mouth unless the chick from Clueless says it’s okay.

As a result, I’m now a walking punchline – and half of my clothes are now too big for me and my plant-fueled body.

Thankfully, for the past ten years I haven’t been able to throw out any adorable article of clothing too large or too small without first saying to myself, “You know, you’re either gonna be one of those people who get thicker and thicker the older they get, or you’re gonna be one of those people who get skinnier and skinnier the older they get. So, self, you better save that sweater/tuxedo shirt/tattoo-ed pair of 1999 CK jeans, just in case you grow a little bit thicker or a little skinnier anytime between now and the year 2062.”

I now have five ‘n a half coffin-sized bins of my former fashion hits and misses messing up my attic which I rummage through every few months. It’s like my own personal thrift store but with far fewer Hilfiger hoodies.

I might not get to eat anything fried or frosted during the week because of that damned vegan has-been, but I can fit into my favorite jeans from Fall of 2000 again which I never thought would happen.

It’s not quite as delicious as Thai chicken with basil was, or salted caramel milkshakes were, but digging into a heaping mound of well-worn clothing classics you yourself turned vintage is tasty in its own way

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Only In France…

Thursday, April 29th, 2010

After five hours of traveling we capped off our 95 minute sprint through Mt. St. Michel with a cone of crispy Chu-Chis, deep fried twigs of dough that are then doused in a dramatic downpour of sugar. Like a funnel cake, but tough and crunchier.

We were held up by Mean Mickey at the Porte de Vanves flea market. It’s a drastic makeover, but he wears armed & insane surprisingly well.

Flower-buddy spices at the Galleries Lafayette über-market.

I assumed the golden nose on this $1400 McClown lamp was its on switch, but, sadly, the joke was on me.

France is the land of 10,000 carousels. We saw many, rode one, and photographed most of them.

Down in Nice there was a strong Italian influence and so we strolled around the city with gelatto cones twice a day. At our favorite shop, if you ordered two flavors, they didn’t just plop one down on the other, snow-man style, but created radial little blossoms of creamy coolness.

Whenever I’m in a foreign land, I like to hunt down grocery market finds by brands we have back at home of specific products which we do not. I even sacrificed precious room in my suitcase to pack in a big box of Kellogg’s Tresor cereal.

The daffy door leading to the unisex restrooms at Colette.

As you can see, France isn’t all fussy refinement. It can flash a little crass and whole lot of sass.

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American Legion Chorus – 1948

Friday, August 21st, 2009

Sometimes I’ll see an old black & white photograph of soldiers and think about taking it home and tacking it up on my wall. But it seems slightly insensitive, turning their wartime tasks and troubles into trend-ified decor.

Photographs of rugby or rowing jocks seem safer and equally as stylish, but, really have no place padding the walls of anywhere I live – there’s nothing about me that’s ever been slightly sportsman-like.

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So it was such a score to come upon this American Legion Chorus image. Former soldiers singing on stage, dressed up to the nines – that sits with me just fine.

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I’m really hypnotized by the regal pomp of the image. It has such a magical mood to it that today is all but extinct, I think.

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If directors of Jenny Lewis or The National music videos don’t read this and cop the concept themselves, I’m gonna dress one of my gal pals up in a Lady Liberty look and set her on stage with some white-tuxed tenors and baritones and shoot something similar myself.

So inspiring…

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Sweatin’ to the Oldies

Tuesday, June 16th, 2009

I’ve recently purchased a trio of vintage military sweatshirts over the past weeks. I’d been envisioning wearing them in one of two ways:

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1. With short shorts and either my new Common Projects sneakers or some sort of boots – as if I’ve been running up and down Mt. Currahee with my band of brothers in Easy Company. Or…

2. Dressed up, over a white oxford, with khakis and black or brown wingtips. The mash-up of the politely preppy with the mucho-macho military delivers the real thrill.

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Unfortunately, the two S/M shirts pictured here proved a titch too S and not enough M for me. So I tried to pawn them off on the e-baying public but only the red one proved popular.

(I’ll post an image of the third sweatshirt I pulled the trigger on once it arrives later this week. Hopefully that one’ll fit.)

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Ax-Man Surplus

Thursday, May 7th, 2009

‘Round where I live, there’s a trio of surplus stores called Ax-Man Surplus that offers bin after bin of obsolete odds ‘n ends. You might not need 250 doll legs, or 75 calculators shaped liked Kentucky, or half a dozen mousepads with Mr T.’s face on them, but it’s life-affirming to know there’s someone out there who will nab up that crap, and gladly.

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One man’s trash is another man’s treasure after all, and nestled next to the tacky glow-in-the-dark travel thermoses, there’s also an awesome assortment of cleanly-designed and perfectly-packaged products from years gone by that, with some patience and a finely-tuned eye, transform Ax-Man into a Minnesotan version of the style-savvy Salvor Kiosk.

Last Saturday at Ax-Man, with a stupid grin on my face, I swiped up:

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- 2 U.S. military pins = 1.45 
- evaporating dish = 2.50
- 1980s police training shorts = .95 
- metal clasp wristlet = .45
- German golden bullet = 4.95 
- 2 French military arm bands = 1.50 (watch out, Chris Martin)

Never has spending sixteen bucks been such a blast.

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Bargain Golden Digits

Friday, April 24th, 2009

Not all lust-worthy leather goods decorated with golden digts have to break the bank.

I could easily imagine finding this zippy little zip-up pouch resting on a weathered table at Secret Service slapped with a price tag of $75.

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But I plucked it off the shelves of a local thrift-store for just six dimes!

It’s mysterious, macho, and just deep enough to stuff my smallest video camera and its batteries snugly inside. It’s riding with me everywhere I roll from now on.

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Grandmas for Guns

Wednesday, April 1st, 2009

I had to take down a 1940s-era photograph of my German Grandmother to make room for this gun print in my first floor hallway.

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Don’t worry, Grandma. I’ll find someplace better for you – I promise.

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From the Office of…

Friday, March 6th, 2009

This handsome little handbook was loafing unceremoniously on my desk for about a year, so I figured I’d dust it off and share it.

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A page I didn’t scan in presents the proper marching order for a (celebratory) Civilian Defense parade. Oh, the ceremony of it all.

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Newly Thrifted Treasures pt. 2

Thursday, March 5th, 2009

I go ga-ga over any simple object imprinted with one simple word.

Words get strung and rushed together all day, every day – their individual power and poetry rarely felt to their fullest. Its almost spiritual to slow down and just stare at and whisper one little word and see what it makes you feel. The word ASP or CALIBER or PORCUPINE.

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This black zippered wallet glistening with a golden REMEMBRANCE imprint in the upper corner is my most recent thrifted find. Every time I quietly read my wallet I feel wisdom, warmth and reverence.

There were some religious-themed stamps and scraps inside the wallet when I bought it. As a never-very-religious heathen I wondered if “Remembrance Wallets” were some traditional, holy staple I’d never heard of.

Sixty seconds of half-hearted Google and image searching didn’t bring up anything conclusive though. (Phew.) So no disrespect to anyone or any institution, but I’m going to continue to blindly believe my gilded REMEMBRANCE wallet has less to do with churches and martyred saints, and more to do with handsome war heroes or nostalgic newsmen of the 1950s.

(May heaven help me.)

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