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On Thrifted Things

  • tianalee0220
  • Jun 3
  • 2 min read

I found him on the New Arrivals shelf at Tilly's, one of our local thrift stores. I already had an artist's mannequin, but this one was different. 

 

It was thrifted, after all. Already worn smooth and darkened from age. And a tad loose-jointed from use. This little mannequin didn't need to be broken in.

 

That's the love of thrifted things. They come feeling like they already belong. Like they've already been loved and they're used to being worn. 

 

And you feel a little bit like a very adventurous treasure seeker. Because the things you find can only be found Here. In this Very Specific Thrift Store on this Very Specific Shelf. And you of all people Found It. And there will never be Another One Like It.

 

Once you become a real life Thrifter, Brand New Things really loose their charm. The Brand New Things come completely lifeless. From a shelf of sixteen other Brand New Things just like it sized extra small to extra large. They come without stories and completely unloved. What do they know about anything.

 

Take picture frames for instance. Vintage-frame-addict here. But those vintage frames come so worn and used. And you know they've been filled with favorite pictures that could tell you worlds about the people who owned them. And a new frame? Nothing to tell except a Homesense price tag.

 

Or quilts and clothes and dishes and shoes. Goodness knows where they've all been. What countries they came from. Whose dear old grandmother passed them down. The cities they've walked in.

 

And books. Every page already touched and imagined in someone's mind. Corners already folded from the times they had to stop and put the book down.

 

Try it, if you're not sold on the idea. Take a little trip to the local thrift store and paw through all the relics. Look for potential in things. Not all the treasures shine in the thrift store. Some of them need to be taken home and given a little extra love before they turn into real treasures.

 

But take them home anyways. And give yourself a minute or two to imagine their stories. Where they've been. Who has held them. Who passed them on to you.



Thanks for being here.


xx

tiana lee

 
 
 

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