Clothes Do Make The Maniac
Originally published in newspapers the week of May 4, 2003.
The phrase “One woman’s trash is another woman’s treasure” always reminds me of one of the main rites of initiation into wife Melissa’s family.
I’m speaking of tagging along on “shop ‘til you drop” excursions to the clothing “junk stores” in Hohenwald (Lewis County).
Hohenwald (which, in Swiss means “I saw that blouse first; let go or draw back a nub”) is world famous as a Mecca for bargain hunters. Don’t snicker. Junk stores are classier than towns that advertise “Birthplace of An Obscure Celebrity Whose Parents Moved the Heck Out of Town Before The Little Bugger Was Even Weaned.”
At establishments such as A.W. Salvage, a savvy shopper can cram a garbage bag full and spend only $20. Compare that to the hoity-toity department stores. (“We’re slashing prices on selected items by a whopping five percent! Yeehaa! No, go ahead and shop first. You may kiss our feet later.”)
Some spoiled individuals think it undignified to sort through half-ton bales of clothing. But how dignified are they when they tell a department store clerk, “I know Mumsy cut off my credit card, but I’ll hold my breath until I turn blue if I can’t touch that $200 dress”?
The junk stores carry some of the biggest names in fashion, such as Liz Claiborne, Arrow, Chaus, and Hilfiger. But there are some ugly garments as well. Many a woman has picked up a skirt and instead of asking “Does this match my earrings?,” asked “Does this match my species?”
It’s fascinating to speculate on how certain garments wound up in the junk store. For instance this “World’s Greatest Mom” T-shirt. What did she do? Eat her young?
Junk stores are a great source of vintage clothing for school kids who dress up for “Seventies Week.” It’s amazing how they can learn cultural catch-phrases and political figures without ever quite grasping how their parents managed to live without lights on their sneakers.
I cannot thank Melissa enough for keeping us well clothed on a tight budget. King Solomon, in describing a virtuous wife, should have added, “Yea, verily, she rises and goes to the junk store before the cock doth crow. And in so doing, she smites the upscale department stores not once, not twice, but seven times.”
Over the years Melissa has become quite efficient with her “game plan” for zeroing in on exactly the items she needs for formal wear, casual wear, gifts, etc. Sometimes she’s too well organized for her own good and finds absolutely everything she came for ahead of schedule. Then she goes into overtime, and it’s “sudden death” for anyone who tries to drag her out of the store.
Melissa said that sometimes a special item will “call” to her. Such a psychic connection is not so far-fetched. Many a husband has collapsed onto a junk store bench -- dizzy from listening about “percales” and “mauves” all day -- and sworn he could hear a nudist colony calling him.
In the early days of her junking career, Melissa had to balance shopping and babysitting her sister and cousin in the store. I now sometimes find myself entertaining our nieces. I regale them with really outlandish fairy tales. (“Once upon a time there was someone who managed to get Aunt Melissa out of a junk store without using the Jaws of Life…”)
The phrase “One woman’s trash is another woman’s treasure” always reminds me of one of the main rites of initiation into wife Melissa’s family.
I’m speaking of tagging along on “shop ‘til you drop” excursions to the clothing “junk stores” in Hohenwald (Lewis County).
Hohenwald (which, in Swiss means “I saw that blouse first; let go or draw back a nub”) is world famous as a Mecca for bargain hunters. Don’t snicker. Junk stores are classier than towns that advertise “Birthplace of An Obscure Celebrity Whose Parents Moved the Heck Out of Town Before The Little Bugger Was Even Weaned.”
At establishments such as A.W. Salvage, a savvy shopper can cram a garbage bag full and spend only $20. Compare that to the hoity-toity department stores. (“We’re slashing prices on selected items by a whopping five percent! Yeehaa! No, go ahead and shop first. You may kiss our feet later.”)
Some spoiled individuals think it undignified to sort through half-ton bales of clothing. But how dignified are they when they tell a department store clerk, “I know Mumsy cut off my credit card, but I’ll hold my breath until I turn blue if I can’t touch that $200 dress”?
The junk stores carry some of the biggest names in fashion, such as Liz Claiborne, Arrow, Chaus, and Hilfiger. But there are some ugly garments as well. Many a woman has picked up a skirt and instead of asking “Does this match my earrings?,” asked “Does this match my species?”
It’s fascinating to speculate on how certain garments wound up in the junk store. For instance this “World’s Greatest Mom” T-shirt. What did she do? Eat her young?
Junk stores are a great source of vintage clothing for school kids who dress up for “Seventies Week.” It’s amazing how they can learn cultural catch-phrases and political figures without ever quite grasping how their parents managed to live without lights on their sneakers.
I cannot thank Melissa enough for keeping us well clothed on a tight budget. King Solomon, in describing a virtuous wife, should have added, “Yea, verily, she rises and goes to the junk store before the cock doth crow. And in so doing, she smites the upscale department stores not once, not twice, but seven times.”
Over the years Melissa has become quite efficient with her “game plan” for zeroing in on exactly the items she needs for formal wear, casual wear, gifts, etc. Sometimes she’s too well organized for her own good and finds absolutely everything she came for ahead of schedule. Then she goes into overtime, and it’s “sudden death” for anyone who tries to drag her out of the store.
Melissa said that sometimes a special item will “call” to her. Such a psychic connection is not so far-fetched. Many a husband has collapsed onto a junk store bench -- dizzy from listening about “percales” and “mauves” all day -- and sworn he could hear a nudist colony calling him.
In the early days of her junking career, Melissa had to balance shopping and babysitting her sister and cousin in the store. I now sometimes find myself entertaining our nieces. I regale them with really outlandish fairy tales. (“Once upon a time there was someone who managed to get Aunt Melissa out of a junk store without using the Jaws of Life…”)
posted by Danny Tyree at 8:17 PM
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