Feeling brave? Hit the giant thrift store on Labor Day weekend

The saying goes, “opposites attract.” In my younger years, I thought this sounded ridiculous. Why would I want to spend time with someone with whom I had little in common? It seemed a silly proposition. I bucked the system and continually attempted to date people who were just like me. As we know, the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.

Then I met my husband. I remember thinking he was so laid back, so funny and refreshingly care-free. Obviously, this would never work. But alas, here we are. I’ve been with him for as many years as I haven’t been with him. That’s half my life, folks. And neither one of us has stabbed, choked or otherwise maimed the other. It seems to be working out OK.

However, on occasion, our differences really come to the forefront. Particularly when it comes to clothing and the procurement of clothing. He is not exactly what one would call a fashion maven. In truth, his eyes can barely tell the difference between green and blue.

For his entire life, other people have purchased Brian’s clothing. His mother was a huge fan of bow ties. We even have a fabulous photo, circa 1974, where he is resplendent in a fly collared orange dress shirt, with brown polyester pants, vest and oversized bow tie. It’s a true masterpiece of mothering genius.

Move forward to the teen years and most of Brian’s day wear came from his awesomely-frugal and sensible grandmother. There were boxes of apparel from the discount clothing bin that landed there because of small blemishes, holes or other abnormalities. Rather then putting these clothes to the curb, the brilliant retailers simply placed a decal, patch or other decorative piece over the deformity.

You would think this history would make my spouse appreciative of the great lengths to which I go to purchase our wardrobes from thrift stores. And perhaps he is, as long as he doesn’t have to be a part of the shopping experience. Which is why I was a little surprised when, over Labor Day weekend, Brian offered to come along when my little diva and I decided to do a little post-closet-clean-out shopping at the mecca of thrift stores, Savers.

It’s possible that I hid my surprise at his interest. It’s also possible that I neglected to warn him about what a thrift store shopping experience, on a holiday weekend, means. If you, too, are a rookie at thrifting, I can tell you that this is not shopping for the faint of heart. You have to go in knowing that it’s going to get ugly. The oddest of them all turn out for these events because sales at a thrift store take frugal to a whole other level. People who are looking for 50-percent off of used clothing prices are either desperate or a little bit nuts, myself included.

I told Brian none of this. To be honest, I kind of thought he knew. I’ve been to so many of these, and we’ve been together for so long, that I assumed he was aware of the combat situation into which he was headed.

My first clue that I was wrong came when I instructed him to grab a stray shopping cart from the parking lot. I knew there would be none inside. Though he looked at me oddly, he knows I’m one of those people that return carts whenever I shop. I think he hoped that was the reason. As soon as we opened the double glass doors and stepped inside, it got real.

“Oh my God, this place is bad. This place feels bad. It has bad Qi.”

Clearly, he was being dramatic and overreacting. I quickly gave him a breakdown of the store’s layout and suggested he peruse the book section while I headed to children’s with the princess. We had barely started sifting through girl’s pants when the first text arrived.

“I think it’s time to go.”

I found him wandering through light jackets and gave him a task: go sign me up for the discount card (yes, thrift store discount cards are a thing.) Though skeptical, he accepted. Within minutes he was back, looking tired and frightened.

“Why don’t you take the wee one to the fitting rooms while I shop,” I generously suggested. This was a win-win; Brian gets out of the fray and Laurie gets a few minutes to shop without a clothes-crazed child or a panic-stricken husband.

“You set me up. This was a trap. You knew all along and you brought me here under false pretenses.”

Again with the drama. He was totally bumming me out. The entire experience was high pressure. I don’t operate like that. I am a skilled bargain hunter with an eagle’s eye and a lion’s patience. He was ruining the sale.

When I handed him the car keys and sent him away, we both breathed a sigh of relief. As the girl and I waited with our way-more-then-six-items in the fitting room line, another text assured me that he had purchased a book and found a Starbucks. Order had been restored.

As I mentioned, second-hand sales bring people out of the shadows, some literally. I always come away feeling triumphant, and a little bit dirty. I keep sanitizer in the car. The commercial hand cleansers are really harsh and over the top. You can make your own with a simple and effective recipe from Natures Nurture. It doesn’t use alcohol, which can be harsh for those of us with sensitive skin.

Ingredients

1 cup pure aloe vera gel (as pure as you can get)
1 tablespoon witch hazel
30 drops (1/4 tsp) tea tree oil
10 drops lavender oil (or essential oil of choice)
3-4 drops vitamin E oil (optional)

Instructions

In a small glass dish, add the essential oils and stir.
Add the witch hazel and vitamin E oil and stir again.
Add the aloe vera gel and mix very well.
Using a funnel, pour the mixture into your container of choice.
Shake well before using.

How do you and your opposite keep from murdering one another in your sleep? I can always use the suggestions. Send them to laurie@riverheadlocal.com.

Laurie Nigro, a mother of two, is passionate about her family, her community, and natural living. Laurie resides in downtown Riverhead and is co-founder of the River and Roots Community Garden on West Main Street.