Saturday, October 22, 2011

An afternoon on Newbury Street

I spent this Saturday afternoon shopping by myself on Newbury Street. I can't say that I enjoyed it, it was rather awful. The sidewalks were barely walkable, and the shops were filled with rich college girls walking around with enormous Louis Vuitton bags. The ones that were with their mothers frightened me even more, because the mothers were trying to resemble their daughters. You had to wait in line for a dressing room, you also had to wait in line to pay, clothes were on the floor, people were pushing their way into racks.

I counted three "Second Time Around" shops and another consignment shop located just across the street from one of them. The mutation clothes undergo from new and very expensive to priced down because used does not require many steps in that neighborhood.

I also went to Filene's Basement for the first time, and fondled some gorgeous Missoni coats ($600 a pop).

Who are these Saturday shoppers? I am beginning to understand who has the wealth in this country. I am also beginning to understand the Occupy Wall Street movement. There's just way too much conspicuous consumption on the one hand, and way too much poverty on the other.

It didn't help that the only bookstore in the neighborhood, a Border's, was closed. How can Back Bay, a residential neighborhood filled with college educated people, not have a bookstore? Do these people not read anymore? Or only read on their electronic devices?

Fortunately my drive home turned my mood around. After an aborted attempt at rescuing my husband at an airport where he wasn't going to fly into until the next day, and having my car's burned out headlight bulbs replaced at an "Autozone" by two very nice gentlemen, I was on my way home again. On the trip home, Garrison Keillor and his gang were up to their usual tricks. Their "Occupy Wall Street" piece was well worth listening to, and had me laughing down the dark interstate that brought me home safely. I was alone again, and finally enjoying some solitude.

My sole purchase: a rather Puritan outfit, which is appropriate given that it was purchased in Massachusetts. On sale at Lucky Brand were bark colored corduroy pants and a white gypsy blouse.

Monday, October 3, 2011

recycling again

I finally put on the dress I bought in Montreal last June. It comes from a shop on the rue Saint-Denis that sells local designers' creations made out of recycled materials. With it I am wearing a scarf I just bought at Revolution made in the same spirit, old clothes (cloths), new creation. Meanwhile, Rosalie is in Morocco lamenting that there is no recycling program per se. But she did post a photo showing coal being sold in old couscous sacks.

Saturday, September 24, 2011

thrifting into fall

Clara found a very stylish homemade dress at the salvation army in White River Junction. And I took some photos of early foliage.



Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Burlington, VT






Today was the big outing to Burlington, Vermont with Rosalie, the older daughter who is in college and is going to spend a trimester abroad in Morocco. We felt a little strange driving north on I 89, passing vehicles that were clearly headed to towns in need of emergency assistance from the flooding caused by Hurricane Irene. We saw a great deal of muddy water and flooded fields.
Burlington was nice and dry, with beautiful clouds wafting over Lake Champlain. We found a mother/daughter symbiosis, whereby we effortlessly were attentive to what the other one wanted to do. So, for example, while Rosalie went into a ski and bike shop, I went into a consignment shop next door to it, where I found a black cashmere cardigan for younger sister Clara -- she's been wearing the same black sweater for a few years now, and might be willing to replace it. Burlington also has a "Second Time Around" where we took a quick peak as well. We had a very nice lunch at Rosalie's favorite crunchy restaurant, Stone Soup, and we followed that with tea in a real Indian tea room where you can sit on pillows and lean against rugs hanging from the walls.
On this shopping trip, I had better luck finding new clothes rather than "gently used" ones, possibly because Burlington's downtown has a nice balanced mix of independent and chain stores. At the Outdoor Gear Exchange, which has moved to the pedestrians only part of Church Street, you can always find a great deal on new athletic clothing, although they also sell consignment. That's where I picked up an Ibex sweater coat on sale. The North Face store, oddly situated just across the street from the Stone Soup restaurant (two very different crowds) was also having a sale. There I picked up some "Darn Tough" made in Vermont socks for hiking. Underwear and colorful tights at American Apparel, a plaid shirt for Rosalie at Urban Outfitters, which also sells its "Urban Renewal" combination of recycled and vintage clothing, and, the Vermont based Salaam brand has its own store on Church Street where I found two dresses on sale.
New clothes are sold in excess, which is why so many used clothing shops have proliferated all over the western world. Every time a new store comes into the town of Hanover, New Hampshire, where I work, it's either a women's clothing store or a restaurant. So how do I explain my recent acquisitions of "new" clothes? I guess I'm not trying to prove anything to myself or to the world. I do want to be conscious of my buying habits or even obsessions, of my need for "retail therapy" and my own excessive consumerism. The TJ Maxx in West Lebanon, New Hampshire has helped me relax after some pretty stressful moments, just by the very fact that I am not looking for anything in particular. I'm just looking. The pleasure of looking. And the pleasure of finding.
Which is precisely what I like to do in Burlington, Vermont where there are plenty of beautiful things to look at.
From much chitchatting with Rosalie, I also came to the conclusion that, at some point, someone has to buy something new in order for it to become old or used. That seems like a tautology, and I'm not looking for an excuse to spend money on new things. But vintage or gently worn or whatever you want to call second hand clothing had to belong to somebody who at some point bought it new. I also want to invoke the "quality" clause, and reassure myself that I also am interested in buying new for the long run. All these used items bought at very low prices become throwaway items very quickly because of their low value. It's so much easier to accumulate clothes and forget about them when they were bought dirt cheap. And it's so much easier to part with them when they already look a bit worn. There are some exceptions of course. But overall, one tends to develop a fondness for one's material belongings because of their quality not their quantity.


Wednesday, August 31, 2011

car boot sale

Clara is back from Edinburgh where she bought two dresses at a car "boot" sale. She is wearing her "Wednesday Adams goes on a picnic" dress on her first day of school.



Thursday, August 25, 2011

More skirts, and car boot sales

Hello all,

I have been rather quiet these last few weeks, which is not to say that I haven't been acquiring more pieces from my favorite local consigners. The last time I went into the Pink Alligator, I suddenly had this feeling that second hand stores were perfectly good sources of new seasonal attires. The latest acquisitions are in the photos.

One to close out the summer, the other to bring with me this coming winter to France, as it's both long and machine washable.

Meanwhile daughter Clara went off to Edinburgh rather last minute to help out at the Fringe Festival. There she discovered car boot sales. It sounds doubly thrifty, selling boots out of cars? But no, of course, it's the trunk of the car in British English. When she returns, I will be sure to post her latest Scottish acquisitions.

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

lavender + fabric scraps





This summer, my two lavender plants are doing really well. So well in fact that I can make sachets and give them to people as gifts. This summer I also finally bought a sewing machine. A consignment clothing lover’s best friend. Now Clara can hem her skirts in seconds instead of painstakingly sewing them by hand. And with her skirt scraps I can make potpourri sachets.

But of course, all this has a downside. As I sit at the sewing machine, I think of sweat shops, and women who are poorly paid all over the world, and women who learned to sew in school, but nothing else, which is why I never learned to sew because my generation was going to free itself from that icon of domesticity.

As I make my little lavender sachets, I think of artisanal work, and how difficult it is to make a profit when you are making something one step at a time, and that it’s no wonder we went through the industrial revolution. Crank out those sachets thousands at a time, then maybe there will be a small profit down the road.
Meanwhile, as I assemble my sachets in my makeshift workshop, I think about the pride that went into handmade things. I am a little proud, and a very nice scent is diffusing all over the house.