My mother loved to thrift. When I was young, she would often drag me along to flea markets, antique malls, estate sales, junk shops – my reward for joining her would be a piece of stick candy (it was the ’70s – every antique mall sold stick candy) or she would buy me something that caught my eye. She was kind – I remember being in 5th grade and I wanted an enamelware stovetop coffee percolator I saw at an estate sale. I didn’t even drink coffee at that age – I just liked the way it looked, so she bought it for me. When we got home, she cleaned it up and showed me how to use it.
I learned a great deal from her. Mind you, it wasn’t by choice – I was bored out of my mind most of the time, but her selection process quietly left an imprint. I’d see her pick up something, turn it over, run her hand along edges to feel for chips or hold an object up to the light. She carried a jeweler’s loupe in her purse to confirm a piece of jewelry was sterling silver or solid gold. If she ever forgot her loupe – I served as her eyes. “Look at this. Tell me, does this say 925 or Sterling?” she would ask. She also shared with me her dislike for depression glass – which I hold a lifelong repulsion for, but I am not sure if it is of my own will or if it was implanted by her.
I’d get irritated when, unprompted, she’d explain to me the history of objects and how they were once used. “Who even cares!?” I can remember saying, dropping my head back and rolling my eyes. At a young age, against my will, I had accumulated a very specific knowledge that I couldn’t share with my peers. No other kid had even heard of tyrollean embroidery or knew what blue opaline glass was. It was a part of me I kept locked down.
And here I am at 57, thrifting on the regular – gratefully drawing from a lifetime of knowledge she imparted. Like my mother did when I was young, I have filled my family’s home with second-hand treasures. It brings me great happiness as it did for her. Added bonus – it saves money and is eco-friendly, which is wonderful.
I love Goodwill, Salvation Army and all charity shops. However, the thing that really gets my blood pumping is a big old estate sale, preferably one where the family lived for 75 or more years and the house is jammed with really good stuff from top to bottom. I love dishes, linens, lamps, paintings, prints, all types of furniture – I even have bought old terracotta pots from basements and garages – I love it all. I get excited by the hunt – I intently move through each room, my eyes grabbing information, my mind rapidly processing it. I would love to be the type who invites a friend and casually walks through the house, chatting and sipping a coffee. However, I am the exact opposite- I go solo. I can’t be distracted by small talk or questions or slowed down in any way – It’s serious business for me. However, I love chatting with other shoppers here and there. I’ve met the kindest people waiting in line to enter a sale – I can honestly say I have never met a single jerk when thrifting.
Every space needs something old and unique, it really can’t be entirely all new things- that gives a flat energy. Mixing in thoughtful finds that carry a history, a patina, help to add personality and interest. Unexpected pairings make a room come alive and I love it when that happens – thrifting makes that happen.
So here is a glimpse into our home – I’d say 70 percent is thrifted, the rest from IKEA, Home Goods, World Market – those types of places. I hope it inspires you to pull into a Good Will or an estate sale and hunt for some treasures for your space! XO, C