Admittedly, thrifting in my case has gone t o o f a r, but there's a reason people love it so much. It's just so much more exciting than regular shopping.
Finding something you like amidst the chaos, finding that it actually fits and even looks nice, and then finding that it costs less than a cup of coffee, is enough to push a girl over the edge. Lord knows, I've emitted some inhuman squeals in my time upon finding a second-hand gem. The most common phrase you'll hear when me and L.T. get going is, 'We need to stop!!'
But we don't really want to be stopped.
The line between completely ugly and complete whale-of-a-time is e x t r e m e l y thin, and thus has become completely blurred. Old man loafers? Yes please! Floor sweeping gingham? Throw it my way! We began to fear that it really had become out of control when we stopped avoiding even the bra section of our local Croix Rouge... But turns out, old ladies have fun-as-fuck taste in lingerie! And it all goes in the wash before use anyway, so whether or not a tit touched it, it's all fair game. And it is a game- that's the trouble with it. Being as it is so cheap, you feel as though you can make risky choices completely guilt free. So what if you wear it once, and then realise that you look like a cushion?! It was one euro!!
When you find a little treasure in a second-hand shop you don't really have the luxury of toying with the idea, reflecting, and then making a sensible (ha!) decision. You either buy it right now or... never see it again (probably). Which, OF COURSE, causes some very questionable purchases. On my last trip to the Croix Rouge I swore to myself that I'd buy a pair of fucking-around-on-the-beach footwear, and N O T H I N G E L S E. Nothing else, Silv, absolutely nothing else. Don't you dare even look in any of the other sections of the shop, you outrageous lunatic.
My luck was in (as it usually is), and I stumbled across a host of made-in-France, never worn, cutie little espadrille wedges, in a rainbow of colours (well... white, black, and red...) The white ones were the cutest- kinda patent with a closed toe and sweet little lacey ties, but they weren't my size, so see ya never! But the other 2 pairs were pas mal, and would both fulfil their purpose nicely. So I tried the red pair on... Nice. Tried the black pair on... Not bad. Red pair... aww cute! Black pair... Mmm versatile! Red pair... more fun!! Black pair... just be sensible for once on your life, Silv. And so the endless deliberation began... (When I like something I'd really, truly, honestly rather not know that it comes in other colours, because decisions like that really push me to the brink.)
And then... everybody else got involved. A pregnant girl with her mum started eyeing up my feet, touching the other pair right next to me, and instantly I panicked. What now?! What if somebody else wants what I want?! COMPETITION!! The mum started commenting on how nice they were, and instantly I thought, 'I'm just not having this. I'm not.' So I smiled, and was polite, whilst tightening the red espadrille's laces up my leg. IF YOU WANT IT YOU'LL HAVE TO FIGHT ME FOR IT! Then, one of the elderly women who volunteers there came over and got involved, saying, 'Oooh, don't they look nice? What a nice pair of shoes!', and various other malicious shit along the same lines. Well I knew her game. She was just furious she hadn't seen them earlier so she could've hidden them in the store cupboard for herself. HA! Well better luck next time! Tightened the black espadrille's laces on my other leg. Then some other bitch tried to get her claws in, saying, 'Oh, if it was me, I'd buy them both...' And at that point any sense of anything had been drowned in an overwhelming sea of well-if-this-many-people-want-them-I'm-just-going-to-have-them-all malice. So I bought them both.
Seriously though, what's wrong with me?