For the past two years – two years during which I’ve gained the bulk of my thrifting experience – I’ve never had to face the consequences of buying used clothing. I’ve even mocked those who use the you-don’t-know-where-that-shit’s-been argument against shopping secondhand. Alas, when over half of your wardrobe consists of gently-worn wears, it’s only a matter of time before said wears bite you in the ass, among other places. When I awoke yesterday morning scratching the hell out of my back, I knew the jig was up. My fellow New Yorkers already know what I’m about to say, but I’ll spell it out for the benefit of all: I’m talking about those blood-sucking little motherfuckers known as bed bugs, and I got ‘em. Bigtime.

I kept myself busy enough to avoid acknowledging my super creepy plight for the bulk of the day – dealing with a crisis of this magnitude requires multiple shots of tequila at the get-go, and I don’t drink in the morning. It wasn’t until six o’ clock yesterday evening that I called my mom – cocktail in hand – and fucking lost it. I’ve become maniacal about housecleaning since moving to the cesspool of all-things-gross three years ago, and I STILL get bed bugs?! IS THERE NO JUSTICE?! It all seemed spectacularly unfair… that is, until Mom told me the one thing I didn’t want to hear while I was wallowing in self-pity: Sweetie, it’s all those used clothes.

I’m fairly anal about washing whatever I buy secondhand before I wear it, but I’ve neither separated my darks and lights nor used the Hot cycle since the invention of Tide Coldwater Detergent. Unfortunately, one of the only things that kills bed bugs is extreme heat. As I looked at my carefully culled wardrobe, I recalled urban legends of people burning piles of infested clothes to get the bed bugs out and – for the first time ever – regretted my penchant for thrift. I’d staked my entire approach to shopping on the world of the gently-worn, and for what? Re-using old stuff might be good for my budget and for the environment. But if it was perilous to my mental health and physical well-being, was it really worth it?

It was then that I grew angry at the bed bugs. How DARE they make me question my shopping philosophy? Who the eff did they think they were?! These clothes weren’t just clothes – they were triumphs, splurges, stories and memories. These clothes were my fucking happy thoughts, and I wasn’t about to let a few disgusting pests change the way I shopped forever. That their mere existence caused me to doubt my own made my next move abundantly clear: They had to die. Oh sure, they have the advantage of the sneak attack and know how to capitalize on fear. But only one of us knows how to google her way to killing the blood-sucking party. Plus, I’m bigger.

I declared war on my bed bugs with the purchase of Protect-A-Bed Mattress and Box Spring Encasements, and am currently in between trips to the laundromat, washing AND drying everything I own that’s even remotely machine-washable on HOT. If it shrinks, bygones – those little assholes must burn. But what of the Dry Clean Only gems? I wasn’t about to chuck them, but I didn’t want to pay hundreds of dollars to have them sanitized either. I googled again in search of an alternative, one that would de-bug both my room and my more fragile clothing, ultimately ensuring total annihilation. Behold, the power of steam.

Since embarking on this adventure, I’ve learned that steam – when heated to 120 degrees Fahrenheit or more – basically has the power to kill any living thing on any surface… including bed bugs. (Insert evil laugh here). Steam is also the most environmentally friendly means of cleaning in existence, seeing as it uses only tap water. Some Steam Cleaners even come with attachments for sanitizing hanging material like curtains and the Dry Clean Only clothes in your closet. A machine that not only kills the icky stuff on my more delicate thrifted goods but also ensures I will NEVER HAVE TO PAY FOR DRY CLEANING AGAIN?! Now THAT’s effing empowering!

I eagerly purchased the Shark SuperSteamer from Kmart earlier today for around forty bucks – it’s a cheapie model, so I’m not sure the terrycloth nozzle attachment intended for curtains will give my Dry-Clean-Onlies a professionally pressed look. But it’ll definitely bomb the buggies with a dose of wet hot death, which is really all I care about at this point. As soon as it’s done charging, it’s Gametime.

In the meantime, let’s talk about what I’m going to do the next time I buy ANYTHING secondhand to ensure that things on par with these blood-sucking little douchenuggets NEVER INVADE MY SPACE AGAIN. I highly recommend you play Monkey See Monkey Do, if only because I seriously wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you went thrifting on my recommendation and ended up bitten. (Obviously, thrifting in the Pest Mecca that is NYC poses the greatest risks. If you do most of your secondhand shopping in Suburbia, you need not be quite as anal, but it’s still important to be germ-and-bug-aware so you can stay germ-and-bug-free. Better safe than sorry, right?).

Bring the Plastic
You know those canvas sustainable shopping bags we all carry around? Ain’t gonna cut it here. Take your gently-worn finds home in plastic bags provided by the secondhand shop. If you wanna be uber green, bring some of the nine thousand you’ve got under your sink (you know, the ones from various drug store and supermarket purchases saved out of guilt) with you on your thrifting excursions. Knot the bag shut before you stash it in a purse or anywhere else.

Bring the Hand Sanitizer
In the purse, always, New Yorker or no. Use it before and after your hunt for the goods. Rub it all over your body after you try anything on (just kidding – that’s the paranoia talking). But for serious: Hands spread 99% of all thangs. Keep ‘em clean and you should be fine.

Bring the Heat
Do not – I repeat, do NOT – remove your goodies from their plastic receptacle until you’re ready to launder them. Do not play show-and-brag with your girlfriends, do not wave them at your significant other as proof that you’re spending less and shopping more, do not photograph them with the tags still on so you can post them to your blog in their original state (that last one’s me talking to myself). The first time you release them from the bag is the first time you dump them into the washer at the start of the HOT cycle. Not warm. HOT.

Bring the Dough for the DCO’s
If there’s anything I’ve learned from laundry mishaps in the past, it’s this: Obey the Dry Clean Only tag. If one of your thriftastic scores bears a tag of the “Dry Clean or Machine Wash Cold/Hang Dry” ilk, common sense necessitates doing only the former. The amount of time, energy and cash you will spend ridding your apt of bed bugs makes ponying up the dough for professional dry cleaning (and/or a Steam Cleaner so you can go DIY fo EVA) more than worth it.

In closing, I’ll say this: Stereotypes are true for a reason, and thrift is no exception. You really don’t know where that shit’s been. I’m not saying this to scare you; I’m saying it because omitting this harrowing tale from my arsenal of thrifting tips would be heinously irresponsible. Thrifting’s a big part of my job, but the average Cheap JAP probs doesn’t encounter used clothing four days a week, multiple times a day. The frequency with which I shop secondhand coupled with my choosing to reside in the nation’s filthiest city makes close encounters of the bed bug kind all but inevitable for me. That doesn’t mean blood-suckers are in the cards for you, so chillax.

This incident might have freaked me out, but it’s not going to stop me from shopping in the most fiscally, socially and environmentally responsible way I know, and it shouldn’t stop you either. Bugs are icky, but paying full retail price for new stuff is even ickier. And as long as we learn from my mistakes and take the necessary precautions in the future, we can avoid both kinds of ickiness altogether, methinks. So let’s keep on truckin’, shall we?

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some critters to kill. Wish me luck.

Update, 8/4/09: Cheap JAP’s bed bug scare ultimately proved a figment of her imagination. A lack of evidence during the de-bugification process affirmed the ordeal as a byproduct of thrift-induced hypochondria. Oy.