This stellar pair of overalls cost me eight bucks at
I layered them over a Theory blouse (also Buff Ex – $21.00, WORD) and added navy tights and black Etienne Aigner oxfords (Mommy’s closet). Decent, but still missing something.
Blazers: The ultimate outfit finishing tool. I snagged the vintage number pictured on my latest stock run to Goodwill Outlet Center, where I paid fifty-five dollars for thirty-seven pounds of clothing.
The actual cost of this blazer? Approximately 75 cents.
Sephardic Bikkur Holim Thrift Shop (say it five times fast – GO!) has some designer donation connections, but the place is struggling on the organizational front. Blazers and blouses and tops mingle on nine different racks; jeans, kiddie clothes, fabric and bedding are randomly strewn across tables; no one seems to know that “sweatshirt” isn’t a synonym for “sweater.” If some logic exists in the layout, it was lost on me. Most things aren’t tagged, which is uber irritating. There’s a few random signs scattered about – Women’s Dresses, $10 – $25, etc. – but the actual cost of each item seems entirely arbitrary: The number they charge is the number you’re expected to pay. Yes, it’s thrift, but can I get a little fucking effort please? Even Goodwill organizes by color and type. GET IT TOGETHER.
My Goodwill Outlet haul included a barely-worn J.Crew Seersucker blazer. Shit. You. Not.
Fitting rooms tend not to exist in places where clothes are $1.69 a pound. I wasn’t totally comfortable with the idea of trying anything on before it underwent my requisite sanitation process either. I had the J.Crew Seersucker dry-cleaned, and found myself nonplussed by the fit a few days later. Seeing as having something professionally tailored defeats the purpose of buying by the pound, I brainstormed alternatives.
Velcro, people. VELCRO.
Here’s the dilly when you’re working with velcro: You must keep the fuzzy part attached to the courser, more durable part for the first portion of the glueing process. The entire exterior of the velcro strip should be smooth, because the sticky parts are facing each other. This is to ensure everything lines up correctly once you un-velcro the velcro.
Firstly: I cinched the jacket around me to its desired fit, then made marks on the exterior and interior portions so I’d know where to put the velcro.
Nextly: I left the velcro attached to itself, snipped a strip of appropriate size, and glued one side of the smooth part to the exterior of the blazer. After it dried (with hot glue, that takes about 30 seconds) I glued the other smooth side of the strip to the interior portion, leaving the velcro stuck to itself the whole time.
Lastly: Once both sides are dry, un-velcro the velcro and voila! Everything lines up perfectly. (Overachievers can hot glue an extra button to the front of the jacket at this point.)
Is it too chilly for Seersucker right now? Possibly. But how SICK does the material look with pinstriped Hudson jean shorts?!
I am, by all definitions, a blazer fiend. If the blazer bears the mark of a coveted brand, the tag becomes an excuse for me to keep it in my closet regardless of whether or not it ever gets worn. It’s wasteful. It’s greedy. And it’s illogical, particularly if I’m strapped for cash and want to go shopping. I realized as much the other day upon assessing my current blazer collection. Among the ten or so in my closet were three obvious hangers-on: A wool Nanette Lepore, a satin Nicole Miller (DEF worn at a Bat Mitzah ten-plus years ago), and a khaki MARC by Marc Jacobs.
The Nanette was too big, and I didn’t love it enough to pay for tailoring – I’d rather cash in on it and shop, thankyouverymuch. I liked the uber eighties bolero style of the Nicole Miller, but anything in black satin can only be worn sporadically, if at all (I only know what that word means because of Clueless, FYI). The pale pink MJ was a gift from Mom a few years back; in spite of how much I tried to like it, I never felt comfortable in it. I have boobs, and we all know MJ doesn’t know shit about crafting clothing to accommodate them.
I sold my gently-worn brandtastic blazers to Buffalo Exchange, and snagged the below with my $37.50 store credit. (Note: This means the store value of my merch sold was $75. This might seem subpar, based on the high-endness of the brands. But bear in mind that the average price of an item at Buff Ex is $17; that’s why we can ALL afford to shop there. If selling my fab castoffs for less than what they’re worth means someone gets to experience the thrill of re-sale via my unworns, I’m all for it. What’s the alternative, hoarding them in my closet on the off-chance I’ll wear them again someday? Puh-lease. A move like that is bound to eff with one’s shopping karma. But I digress.)
A close up of these Members Only Jeggings and this American Apparel See-Thru Tank yields the following info: Both items are NWT. Instead of paying a ludicrous $88 for leggings and an irritating $29 for a tank, I paid $13.50 and $15.00, respectively.
New never-been-worn clothes at secondhand price points. LOVES IT!
I also snagged a Lowrys Farm Sweater and some Hudson Jean Shorts (to be worn with thick tights and flat boots in winter, obvs).
Average retail price Hudson Jean Shorts: $160.
Average retail price Lowrys Farm Sweater: No effing idea – it’s a line of Japanese basics priced in yen or some shit, but the stuff is fab.
What’d I pay?
$18 for the shorts; $20 for the sweater. Word.
My subtotal for these four items came to $66.50 – not bad by a long shot. Also not what I paid out of pocket: Remember, I had $37.50 in store credit to play with.
My total out of pocket cost for ALL the above? TWENTY NINE BUCKS.