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| Michelle and I don't really have a problem. We can quit thrifting any time we want! |
________________________________
Hello. My name is Chris.
Hello. My name is Chris.
I'm a thriftaholic. I'm a
bona fide, die hard, call-
in-sick, no-sleep-for-three-
days, I-really-need-a-
shower-and-a-hot-meal
thrift store addict —
and I don't deny it. My
girlfriend Michelle
also suffers from TSA
(Thrift Store Addiction).
________________________________
I first realized that WE potentially had developed a "problem" when store clerks began greeting us by name. And just this past week I received a personal email from a local store owner who expressed concern that I had not been in for a while. She further "encouraged" me to stop by and see her, ASAP.
Oh sure, my story started out innocently enough, but now things are getting a little creepy.
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| All I ever desired was flippin' awesome hot pants at an affordable price. Soon, my life was coming apart at the seams. |
I first realized that WE potentially had developed a "problem" when store clerks began greeting us by name. And just this past week I received a personal email from a local store owner who expressed concern that I had not been in for a while. She further "encouraged" me to stop by and see her, ASAP.
Oh sure, my story started out innocently enough, but now things are getting a little creepy.
The year was 2003. I was a fresh-faced forty-year-old divorcee with a bright future ahead of me. It was my first experience — a harmless experiment. Ah yes, I remember my very first thrift store purchase fondly — a pair of plaid capris, a slightly stained "I'm with Stupid" T-shirt and a "like new" cassette tape of Kenny Rogers' Greatest Hits. It all felt so good, and I knew that I could handle it. But the "monkey" knew better. Before long, my life was spiraling out of control. I soon became a frequent "client" at various thrift store locations, eagerly taking advantage of weekly half-price and bag-for-a-buck specials. This quickly was becoming a major "dirty little secret" — one that I've only recently been able to share openly with others.
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| Thrift store marionettes are plain creepy. |
However, I also have noticed lately an alarming creepy-factor associated with the thrifting experience. Just yesterday, Michelle and I paid a visit to one of our favorite hometown destinations. I won't reveal the shop's name, as I'd never drop a dime on a reliable "connection." Furthermore, I hope that what I have been observing recently is simply a figment of my imagination and not a dark reality of the thrifting lifestyle. FYI, here's what I observed during yesterday's outing.
As always, the place was packed — standing-room only. But everwhere I looked, everywhere I walked, I felt as if I was being watched and followed by the various creepy artifacts displayed throughout the store. From clown paintings to marionettes to china-type dolls, there was no escaping "them."
However, thrift store mannequin heads are perfectly normal. And like most normal people, I like to feel the skin — oh so gently. Oooh, I like the soft and pretty skin.Am I being paranoid? Do I have a problem? Should I be concerned? Should I seek professional help? What does it all mean? Does Ann Coulter really love me? Should I switch to decaf? Should I simply walk away and abandon this lifestyle? I'm SO confused!
Please feel free to weigh in on this and offer me your guidance, advice or any other personal insight.
-Chris
Author Christopher Long's latest book
We hope you'll stop by and thrift with us next time you're in Calgary! We promise we don't have any creepy stuff. Just upscale and high quality goods at our place. :) Check us out on FB to see www.fb.com/urbanthriftcalgary
ReplyDeleteAwesome -- thanks for the invite! I'll check out the FB page. I look forward to visiting.
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