For women, the store carries frilly and floral skirts, shorts in a variety of colors and lengths, and dresses for every occasion. Tank tops and bright, light weight tops are under $15 each, and coats and jackets range from $9.99 for a Mossimo rain jacket to $69.99 for an Ann Taylor Loft pea coat.

Maybe a Mossimo rain jacket costs more than $9.99 at Target. Maybe I don’t give a shit. Charging more than five bucks for an already-budget item of piss-poor quality is an insult to the art of thrift. Where the Ann Taylor Loft pea coat’s concerned, I mean, JESUS. A seventy dollar price tag at Goodwill? For an effing generic ATL pea coat? In MAY?!

Curated, my ASS.

Where charity thrift’s concerned, hell hath frozen over: Bundle up beotches, and brace yourselves for the cold hard reality of what it now costs to shop for a cause.

Mmkay, so these photos suck dong, but that’s because the security guard kept eyeballing me whilst I snapped (also, a security guard… what’s worth stealing, the fake Louis Vuitton bag in the window? Pfft.). Apologies, and onto the ludicrousness pictured.

Twenty8Twelve tops retail for hundreds of dollars. Ditto for Theory. It follows that paying $69.99 for one isn’t all that unreasonable… at Loehmann’s, or at a sample sale, or maybe even at a high-end consignment shop. I wouldn’t do it, but I understand it.

Paying that amount at Goodwill GVB is a different story – one in which I’m still digging through significant amounts of donated muck.

You heard me. DONATED. Goodwill wants $69.99 for each of these garments, but what’d they pay out of pocket? Zero. That’s a mark-up even Barneys can’t top.

I don’t have a problem with trading on charity – nationwide, Goodwill puts millions of people to work, and uses 84% of its profits to fund its numerous charitable initiatives. What I have a problem with is its complete disregard for the monetary expectations of those who keep it in business: We, the thrifters.

Goodwill GVB might be a smidge easier to shop than its larger Manhattan counterparts, but copious amounts of Target crap and Old Navy shizzz doth not a *curated* *vintage* *boutique* experience make.When I shop Goodwill, I expect to spend a bit more time and energy browsing than I would shopping retail. In return for my efforts, I expect to snag something amazing for a fraction of its retail cost – meaning five, ten, twelve bucks max. That uber cheap price is my reward for going gently worn, and for giving to charity via my secondhand purchase.

At Goodwill GVB, what do my efforts net me? Brand-name rip-offs, and a fucking forty dollar make-up stain.

DO: Clean Your Closet Thoroughly
Take a good hard look at your wardrobe, and be brutally honest with yourself about what you do and don’t wear. Items that have gone unworn for six months or more should be removed from your closet immediately. What happens when you hang onto stuff that’s too small on the off-chance it’ll fit again some day? You try it on periodically, and it makes you feel like crap about yourself. Get it out, and don’t look back.

Note: 80% of your outfits come from 20% of your clothes. That means you could get rid of over half your wardrobe, and your style wouldn’t change a lick. I’m just saying.

DON’T: Be Delusional
Think someone’s going to pay you for dated work apparel or nineties-era Paris Blues? Think again. Retail might be struggling, but resale is recession-proof: Secondhand boutiques are pickier than ever about what they buy. A Buffalo Exchange staffer summed it up best: “If it’s not something your best friend or sister would want, chances are a resale shopper won’t want it either.” If it’s seasonally and stylistically relevant, it’s a potential seller. If not, into the donation pile it goes.

DO: Divide and Conquer
Split your potential sellers into two piles: resale and consignment. A resale store buys your clothes on the spot in exchange for cash or store credit; a consignment store compensates you as your items sell. What goes in what pile? So glad you asked.
Imagine the gently worn world as a highbrow department store. The Premium Designer floor is consignment. The Contemporary Women’s Apparel floor is resale. Helpful analogy, yes?

Read the rest on Huffington Post Style. Tweet for good shopping karma .

Dressing myself is fun. Dressing a mannequin is FUNNER.

I mean, come on, you know what it’s like to put outfits together: You lay it out on the bed; you think it’ll look amazing; you try on the combo; it looks like hell; you repeat the exercise until you’re out of steam; you resort to one of your standbys; you vow to never play dress up when you’re trying to get out the door again. Maybe that’s just me and I’m a total nutter. Whatevs.

Most apparel looks radically different on the hanger than it does on the body, but outfitting a mannequin gave me a whole new outlook on playing dress up. When you’re the model, the arduous task of dressing and undressing coupled with the self-criticism that tends to go along with trying on clothes results in one thing: Fear. Nothing kills creativity and boldness like being afraid of how it’s going to look. And while dressing a mannequin didn’t obliterate the insecurities exacerbated by trying new things, it changed my perspective on the whole getting dressed thang. When something doesn’t look good on us, our first instinct is to kick our own asses: We’re always too short, too fat, too pale, too old, too whatever. When something doesn’t look good on a dummy, you realize it’s not the body that’s the problem – it’s the garment. Maybe it’s ill-fitting, maybe it’s a weird pairing, maybe it’s made by a designer who’s ignorance of the female form is unparalleled (see Marc Jacobs). Granted, our dummy’s a size 4, which is still a far cry from the average American woman (size 14). But it has boobs, and it’s a lot more realistic than the less-than-zero mannequins gracing most retail stores today.

I’m not suggesting you go out and buy a dummy to avoid all the crap that arises whilst trying to get dressed. I just think reminding ourselves of the obvious when we do so – that more often than not, it’s not us, it’s the clothes – is a solid idea.

Where the eff was I? Oh riiiight – this outfit! Pairing tweeds and animal prints AND studs is kind of wild, and certainly not something I would have thought up sans the freedom afforded by the glorious headless dummy.

Apparently, it worked: A customer came in a few days after the outfit had been on display and asked to try on the skirt. I took it off the mannequin for her (unlike Goodwill, Housing Works and Angel Street Thrift Shop, we DO sell things from our window display on the spot ): She loved it, bought it and left giddy over her material buzz. The naked-bottomed dummy gave me another chance to play dress up – an activity that, thanks to AuH2O, isn’t quite as scary as it once seemed.

Outfit deets: Vintage Tweed Peacoat, $14.00; Moschino Cheap ‘n’ Chic Cardigan, $28.00; Luella for Target Miniskirt (hand-studded by yours truly), $28.00.

Hi Cheap JAP,
I’ve been reading your blog for a while now and I’ve always looked up to you for your shopping prowess and ability to bargain-shop everywhere. But since NYC has reportedly had one of the highest cases of bed bugs right now, would you still suggest going thrifting? I’ve been wanting to make a trip out to Buffalo Exchange and Beacon’s Closet for the fall but reports about bed bugs in NYC have deterred me from doing so.

Do you’ve any tips for eliminating the possibility of being in contact with them or is it just inevitable? Also, has recent news of bed bugs stopped you from going thrifting in the past month or so?


Sincerely,
Distressed Shopper in NYC

Legit concern, fo sho. To avoid bed bugs at vintage and thrift stores, sustainable shopping enthusiast Sammy Davis recommends checking the lining of purses and stretching the knitting of sweaters to expose bed bugs and/or bed bug droppings. Problem is, baby bed bugs are nearly invisible, so a thorough visual inspection won’t necessarily prevent you from bringing home unwelcome visitors.

There’s only one way to put any potential blood sucking beasts out of their misery: HEAT.

The general rule for previously worn machine washable goods is this: Twenty minutes in a hot dryer, and you’re good to go. My personal routine is as follows: I bag my thrift, resale and vintage finds in plastic after purchasing, take them straight to the laundromat, put them in the dryer, throw in a dryer sheet to nullify any musty vintage odors, select the “hot” cycle, and pump 25-30 minutes worth of quarters in the machine. I’m paranoid like that. Also, I heart the scent of Method lavender dryer sheets.

If I happen to pick up a gently worn goodie that isn’t machine washable, I steam clean it. If you don’t have a personal steamer, a hot iron set to the steam function will do just fine.

For seasoned secondhand shoppers like myself, the sanitation rituals above guarantee peace of mind. That’s not necessarily the case for secondhand shopping newbies: The prospect of picking up bed bugs or other ickiness is enough to turn them off for good.

I mean, come on, screening for droppings? BUZZKILL. That’s effing disgusting, and something no shopper should have to do.

What if secondhand stores went the extra mile, and sanitized their gently worn goodies before putting them up on the racks? It’d take the ick factor out of the equation. It’d enable you to wear what you purchased immediately. Suddenly, the instant gratification factor of shopping wouldn’t be exclusive to retail. This isn’t a groundbreaking idea. It’s a practical move for any secondhand store.

My AuH2O partners and I don’t believe you have to sacrifice clean in order to shop green. So we’re going to extra mile and tackling the ick factor head on.

At AuH2O, all of our gently worn goodies are sanitized with heat.

How do you address the sanitation issue as a secondhand shopper? You can hot dry or steam clean on your own time and dime, content in the knowledge that doing so makes your gently worn goodies as good (and as clean) as new.

Or you can shop at AuH2O, and let us do the dirty work for you.

Stay tuned for a rundown of what’s currently in stock. Happy thrifting.

First-time Author + Questionable Subject Matter + Declining Book Sales + Recession

= Pass on Book.

The questionable subject matter is, of course, Resale.

Sidebar: Whilst preparing the marketing/outreach section of the aforementioned proposal I discovered Resale is a blanket term used to imply all forms of sustainable shopping – thrift, vintage and consignment in addition to itself.

Glad we got that out of the way.

The general objection to publishing a book about Resale has been of the we’re-not-sure-about-the-industry ilk. To see if said objection holds any water, let’s take a look at some Resale industry stats and trends:

• Resale is one of the fastest growing segments of retail.
• There are currently 25,000 resale stores operating in the United States.
• Resale shopping attracts consumers from all economic levels.
• About 16 – 18% of Americans will shop at a thrift store during a given year. For consignment/resale shops, it’s about 12 – 15%. During the same time frame; 11.4% of Americans shop in factory outlet malls, 19.6% in apparel stores and 21.3% in major department stores.
• The industry has experienced a growth in number of stores of approximately 5% per year for the past three years.
• The progression from a disposable society to a recycling society (i.e. the green factor) has enormous market potential for the resale industry as a whole. Resale is the ultimate in recycling.
• Goodwill Industries alone generated $1.9 billion in retail sales from their 2,246 Not For Profit thrift stores across America in 2007.
• Buffalo Exchange has grown to a 36 store chain in thirteen states. The store employes over 500 people, and generated revenues of $56.3 million in 2008. Revenues will hit $70 million within the next two years.
• Crossroads Trading Co. rang up $20 million in sales last year at its 22 stores.

• Resale is a multi-billion dollar a year industry.

All the above stems from a National Association of Resale and Thrift Stores report, and all the above was included in the marketing section of the book proposal. You’re not sure if there’s an audience for a shopping guide to a multi-billion dollar a year industry? Beotch please. I know there is, you know there is, but none of that matters.

What matters is that Resale – in spite of proving itself as recession-proof – is still largely uncharted territory from a media standpoint.

Resale is like porn – or more accurately, like porn used to be. Everyone’s doing it, and no one’s talking about it.

This realization left me with one of two choices. I could leave Resale behind, do the dog-and-pony show, use my newfound editorial connections to write an asinine book about fashion and style a la Nina Garcia, develop a reputation as an author, and then write about what I really wanted to write about. OR…

I could change the fact that no one’s talking about it. I could give the most fiscally, socially and environmentally responsible form shopping there is the one thing it’s currently lacking.

An online community.

The scope of Resale extends beyond this little blog, chickadees. It’s not enough for me to talk about it. I know what you’re thinking: Oh, but I don’t WANT to share the wealth with those who haven’t yet discovered the world of the gently worn. Why should I have to share my tips with newbies? If Resale gets popular, it’ll get more expensive! Can’t we just keep it our little secret?

Not if we don’t want to eff up our shopping karma. Yes, dishing about our fave stores, our latest finds and our best shopping strategies might lessen the odds of a material score, but those odds have always been unpredictable at best. That’s part of the game. An online Resale community won’t just inspire secondhand newbies to take the plunge: It’ll serve as a resource for Resale stores everywhere.

Scenario: You’re psyched to check out a new vintage/thrift store in your neighborhood, but your first visit proves disappointing. The organization’s shit, the quality’s so-so, and everything costs $10-$20 more than it should. You hit the Cheap JAP forums to kvetch about it, and post a topic on overpriced vintage of questionable quality or whatevs. A few weeks later, the store and source of your frustration can’t figure out why its sales are lacking. It googles its way to the forums, sees your post and reads up on a bunch of other Resale shopper likes and dislikes. It decides to test out some of the strategies endorsed and see if business improves, so it gives itself an organizational makeover, and overall price-point reduction of 20 percent. It then slaps up an announcement on the Forums; you see it, and decide to give it a second chance, and OMFG! It used to be a subpar vintage/thrift, and now it’s a kickass store! And it has YOU to thank for its improved business, because YOU’RE the one who started the conversation.

Resale is an industry in which you – the shoppers – have the power. The Cheap JAP forums are a place for you to wield it. They’re also a place for you to exchange style tips, post outfit queries, share DIY creations, debate controversial retail a la American Apparel, and treat Fashion like the bitch she is . I’ve posted some topics to get you started, but editorial authority falls to you from here on out. Go. Register. Respond to my topics, or start your own. Converse. Write as you are. (Sorry, had a soooo deep moment there ).

Sidebar 2: I’ve learned an epic amount of internet skillz these past few months but I’m still a newbie in the software world, so kindly email me if you happen upon any kinks in the system.

I’m not giving up on the book, FYI. I’ll write it someday, and self-publish it if I have to. But my voice alone can’t popularize an entire industry. My voice alone can’t inspire the stores in that industry to constantly work at improving the shopper’s experience. My voice alone can’t get those sucked in by discount outlets and sample sales to realize Resale always wins the day.

I have a fucking VISION, goddammit. And you’re all a part of it.

We’re all in this together. Kumbaya, beotches. ;P

It was somewhere in Williamsburg, possibly near Metropolitan Ave, definitely in a not-yet-fully-gentrified area – a charming vintage hole-in-the-wall, run by an English Bulldog and his musician owner. The mysterious store was open late enough for me to stumble upon it in between weekend bar stops.

That’s code for “I was tipsy enough to get conned into paying $45 for a floral mini dress.”

Whatevs. Some things are too cute to pass up after two Tequilas on the rocks.

I’m all about high hemlines, but this dress uses its innocent print as an excuse to take it to the limit: It fails the fingertip skirt test by the length of one whole hand.

Why, then, do I still feel comfortable wearing it? (And by ‘comfortable,’ I mean with flats and non-pasty legs. Obvs.)

Built-in bloomers. That is some old-school awesomeness right there. It kinda feels like a diaper; then again, it covers the hoo-ha sans bike shorts so NBD.

Granted, the dress is still short enough to suggest itself as a catalyst for crotch shots. But as long as my legs take the focus off my matted, frizzed out, schvitzy August blob of a hairdo, I’m cool with a little overexposure. Fall – and the freedom to blowdry that comes with the season – can’t get here soon enough.

(Photo deets: Belt, DIY material collateral (zero dollars); necklace, Mom’s (legally thieved); sparkly eye shadow, CVS (Physicians Formula, $9.95).