First rate second hand goods

Job update: I’ve been busy this month working as a sub-contractor managing economic development events with a former boss, who is also a good friend, for some extra $. Because, I have a crew that has a fierce need to eat, and property taxes.

Years ago when I first moved to LA I met a woman, in her twenties and very beautiful, who told me about finding a yellow “40 and loving it!” t-shirt in a second hand shop. The thing was in perfect condition, with bubbly cursive font and I-am-woman 70’s pop culture philosophy scrawled across the chest. Thinking it was hilariously ironic, she wore it to the neighborhood Trader Joes, where the checkout guy asked her incredulously, “Are you really 40?”

Some irony you just can’t wear in LA.

Generally, I ignore the “vintage” second hand stores in LA, unless it’s the Goodwill. It’s a complicated system in this sprawling city of wealth and poverty. There are vintage stores here that range in prices from .50¢ to $500, depending on the item, the thesis of the store, and the brands they are selling second hand. It’s conceivable to walk into a vintage store where the lowest price tag is set at $250. This is LA. SOMEONE will walk in and think, “What a bargain!”

FULL DISCLOSURE: I once shelled out $50 on a Luis Vuitton Speedy bag some years back at a vintage shop in Ventura. It was the find of the century. (Case in point.) Still use it.

But the most unexpected thing happened when I wrote about how my teenage daughter is building her high school wardrobe with limited funds. After reading the blog post, a couple of friends who are in their early 30’s reached out and offered some of their slightly used dresses to D. Her wardrobe will now expand with items my friends had aged out of.

When D was little, her mainstay was second hand clothes. I shared her lightly worn clothing on a regular basis with families who were friends of friends, and in turn we received bags of kid clothes from a family who had twin girls two years ahead of D. There was a rhythm to it. Our girl always had something to wear.

It’s easy to share kids’ clothes. They grow so quickly that their clothes are usually in great shape by the time they grow out of them, and there’s always someone around who can use them.

However, the community of sharing clothes among adults is something that’s been missing since I left grad school and settled in LA.

I have friends who won’t wear second hand clothes. It’s a thing for them. I shrug it off. I grew up in second hand clothes. Applied for my first jobs in second hand skirts. Proudly washed and wore a sweater I’d been drooling over in a well-known catalogue that I found for $12 bucks in a second-hand store in Berkeley. Two weekends ago I performed on stage in second-hand beaded wear, and didn’t look anything less like a soprano.

Recently I’ve read about cost cutting ideas like “going shopping” in your own closet. Meh. I already know what’s in there since I tried to do the Mari Kondo declutter thing last Summer. I say “tried” because I’m not completely confident that everything left in there after the great-purge-of-the-Summer-of-2018 sparks joy. (I mean, there are still business suits in there.)

Personally, I think it’s a thousand times more fun to peruse the purged items of a friend’s closet. I remember doing this with my two best girlfriends in college, and we walked away pleased with our new threads. For the next few years I was happy in a fisherman’s knit sweater I wore for nearly every occasion, while I watched a friend wear one of my trendy Limited sweaters for the next year on repeat. Even though they were used clothes, not to mention familiar clothes, the feeling of acquiring new clothes was genuine.

But nowadays, after we’ve all had children, and our 50-year-old bodies are far from the lithe days of college, my close group of girlfriends in LA are now different shapes and sizes. “Shopping” each other’s closets is not an option.

Which is why it was so cool to find younger adults willing to help out a teenager.

The closest I’ve come to an adult closet swap in recent memory was when my mom did a major purge on her closets last year. She gave my sister and I first right of refusal over a mountain of black gabardine, crepe and whatnot that was headed to a consignment shop. I walked away with my favorite cashmere sweater of all time. (Black, ¾ sleeve, mock turtle, and nary a moth hole. DROOL.)

But it would be great to meet a few women who are shaped like me. Sharing clothes isn’t just thrifty, it’s ecological if you think about the effect dyes, manufacturing, shipping and packaging have on the environment.

So if you know any 50 year old women, size 4 with a potbelly, and a penchant for what I like to call “cardigan chic,” send them my way. We may have perfectly great stuff we don’t wear anymore that will spark inspiration in the other.