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Back in the days when I was this-close to moving in with the troll who lives beneath the bridge, I got in the habit of shopping in thrift stores for all my clothes.
Not charming vintage clothing stores.
Places like Good Will, the Salvation Army, St Vincent de Paul, the Distressed Poor People’s Hole of Horrors.
Even now that my income has expanded and I think nothing of blowing ten bucks in upscale emporiums like Target and Walmart, I still shop in thrift stores. It’s kind of like mining for gold.
A lot of rich people with good taste live in Ithaca. Thus it was not uncommon to stumble across labels like Dior, Diane von Furstenberg, even Oscar de la Renta at the local Good Will. Priced to sell at five bucks a pop.
Nobody has any taste here in Dutchess County. Nonetheless, yesterday I was able to score a Kate Spade purse, a pair of Banana Republic khakis, a pair of straw-colored linen trousers and a long-sleeved silk button-down shirt in a really lovely shade of sage. For under 20 bucks!
Of course, it did mean having to spend half an hour or so sorting through the racks at the Good Will in Wappingers Falls, which is just the ugliest place in the world. And halfway through the sorting process, I spied this old woman staring at me. Thought, Geez – she’s not aging very well. And realized: My GAWD! I’m looking into a mirror
Of course, I wasn’t wearing any makeup, and the light in those kinds of places is pitiless.
Still. If I was the type of person who liked to drink, I would have staggered into the nearest bar and ordered myself a bourbon double.
Getting old. Not for the faint of heart.
###
In other news – massive amounts of green tea, Echinacea, and zinc seems to have zipped my virus. I’m not entirely back to running on all cylinders; I’m still coughing a huge amount. When I breathe in deeply, I can feel rales, the parts of my lungs that aren’t filling. But considering that I thought I’d be out of it, flat on my back for ten days or more, I’m heartened. I may even exercise today.
Spring is glorious. Prelude to fall colors now, doncha know, since the little tree flowers that precede the new leaves are all shades of russet and orange. When you drive past them, there’s a kind of corolla effect, the new leaf green, the russet florets blurring together.
I have a shitload of work to do and as usual, little inclination to do any of it.
I’m thinking of entering The Raymond Carver contest, but I’m not sure what to submit. I suppose I could dust off Terroir and Jayne LeGro. It needs editing.
Not charming vintage clothing stores.
Places like Good Will, the Salvation Army, St Vincent de Paul, the Distressed Poor People’s Hole of Horrors.
Even now that my income has expanded and I think nothing of blowing ten bucks in upscale emporiums like Target and Walmart, I still shop in thrift stores. It’s kind of like mining for gold.
A lot of rich people with good taste live in Ithaca. Thus it was not uncommon to stumble across labels like Dior, Diane von Furstenberg, even Oscar de la Renta at the local Good Will. Priced to sell at five bucks a pop.
Nobody has any taste here in Dutchess County. Nonetheless, yesterday I was able to score a Kate Spade purse, a pair of Banana Republic khakis, a pair of straw-colored linen trousers and a long-sleeved silk button-down shirt in a really lovely shade of sage. For under 20 bucks!
Of course, it did mean having to spend half an hour or so sorting through the racks at the Good Will in Wappingers Falls, which is just the ugliest place in the world. And halfway through the sorting process, I spied this old woman staring at me. Thought, Geez – she’s not aging very well. And realized: My GAWD! I’m looking into a mirror
Of course, I wasn’t wearing any makeup, and the light in those kinds of places is pitiless.
Still. If I was the type of person who liked to drink, I would have staggered into the nearest bar and ordered myself a bourbon double.
Getting old. Not for the faint of heart.
###
In other news – massive amounts of green tea, Echinacea, and zinc seems to have zipped my virus. I’m not entirely back to running on all cylinders; I’m still coughing a huge amount. When I breathe in deeply, I can feel rales, the parts of my lungs that aren’t filling. But considering that I thought I’d be out of it, flat on my back for ten days or more, I’m heartened. I may even exercise today.
Spring is glorious. Prelude to fall colors now, doncha know, since the little tree flowers that precede the new leaves are all shades of russet and orange. When you drive past them, there’s a kind of corolla effect, the new leaf green, the russet florets blurring together.
I have a shitload of work to do and as usual, little inclination to do any of it.
I’m thinking of entering The Raymond Carver contest, but I’m not sure what to submit. I suppose I could dust off Terroir and Jayne LeGro. It needs editing.
