At AuH2O Thriftique, we’re pretty old school about how we stock our store. We go out and unearth the gently worn gems ourselves for two reasons:
1. We’re utterly addicted to the thrill of the hunt.
2. We’re DIRT CHEAP.
We spend hours on end in icky, icky places to deliver the goods at the lowest possible cost. The only thing we sell that doesn’t involve a shit ton of patience, grit and endurance on our part? Jewelry. We order in bulk from our vintage suppliers, a box of baubles arrives and wee! Kate Goldwater and I are both Jewish, so opening those boxes is basically the closest thing to Christmas morning we’ve ever experienced. read full spiel…
We dress up for work at AuH2O, and by “dress up,” I mean we don clothes in a way that reinforces one of life’s greatest truths: Secondhand and style aren’t mutually exclusive terms. I work the thriftique 2-3 days a week: It takes me an average of 30 minutes to figure out what to wear each time. On certain mornings, the clock runs out before I’ve completed the exercise.
Do I open late? Fuck no – I’m a professional. I leave my apartment half-dressed and on time, and change my outfit upon arriving at the store. It’s usually as simple as selecting a top or dress and a few accessories from my personal stock, but a few mornings ago, simplicity and speed went out the window. In lieu of picking something wearable in its current form, I chose an ankle-length tie-waist dress.
I do not wear ankle-length dresses. Ever. But the print was sooo cute, and the jersey knit had the coziness of a broken-in t-shirt. I loved this dress and goddammit, I was going to figure out a way to wear it. So I did what I always do when I fall for something too long for my liking: I busted out my scissors, and hacked a few inches off the hem.
Allow me to paint you a picture of the scenario: I’m in the dressing room with the scissors. No customers are in the store yet, but I’m open for business and, heretofore, on a serious time crunch. I try the dress on and ballpark the hem. I take it off. I hack it. I put it back on and… BALLS. Way. Too. Short. This wasn’t a mini-dress, and it didn’t look like a tunic either. It looked like the mistake it was – a dress hemmed too short for wearability. SHIT.
Luckily, I had a gauzy, layered, ruffle and lace trimmed H&M miniskirt on hand, so I layered it under the mistake of a mini dress. It masqueraded as a slip effectively enough, but it was too thick to lie flat under the thin fabric – from the waist down, I was a big bunchy mess. I threw a blazer on over the combo to hide the bunch and survived the day.
I couldn’t leave the issue of the too-short dress unresolved – this thang was way too cute not to salvage. The ruffled trim of the H&M miniskirt was a perfect pairing. All I had to do was cut the hem from the garment, sew it together to preserve the layered material, then sew that piece of material onto the bottom of the dress hem.
This took nine hours.
Thankfully, I had Freaks & Geeks for company.
Pretty cute, yes? Oh, and both the dress and the skirt-turned-hem got snagged at Goodwill Outlet Center.
In other news, it’s Fashion Week. I could do a long-winded rant on the ridiculousness of the scene, but these days, it’s just not a worthy use of my time. Better to keep you entertained with subjects marginally relevant to your lives, methinks.
How’s this for a compromise: It’s Fashion Week, and I don’t give a flying fuck.
I puzzled over an alternative to buying additional chains for my loosies, and then I remembered: I HAD chains. Yards of them actually, from the hardware store, purchased for an ill-conceived window decor idea. (DON’T ASK.)
I managed to ward off the fear of concocting something Flava Flav-esque, and busted out some jump rings and extra clasps I had lying around. (I like crafts.) I found a smaller gold chain in the process, and figured I might be able to attach it to a smaller loosie.