Thriftable
THRIFTABLE – August 1, 2024 – Huntington Beach, California, USA
Cambria’s love for thrifting began when she turned sixteen and got her driver’s license. She worked a summer job at a day camp for kids and earned her first significant money not given to her by her parents. She and her friends, who also had summer jobs, spent a good chuck of their after-work time shopping for clothes.
Cambria’s entourage soon discovered the large Goodwill and Salvation Army thrift stores near their homes. The girls reacted as if those places were newly opened instead of being around since before they were born. After ransacking all the shelves and clothing racks, they moved beyond the charity-based shops to find for-profit second-hand stores all over Orange County. It was one big treasure hunt and a week’s worth of wages bought entire wardrobes.
Cambria brought home outfits and shoes by the bagful and she showed them off to her mom, Monica. Cambria described them as vintage, retro, and authentic. She scored jeans of every cut and style, from wide-leg bell bottoms to tight-fitting low-rise waists. She loved when they had “real holes” caused by actual wear and tear instead of intentional cuts made in a factory.
She and her friends also liked dresses and skirts made from wool and linen in the distant 19th century. They paired well with boots and platform shoes and serious work shirts. They were especially excited by shirts with snaps and sewn-in nametags from industrial shops.
“Check this one out,” Cambria said proudly as she held up a denim shirt marked with the name Javier from a sheet metal company.
Her mom shrugged in reply. “I guess I don’t get it. You’ve already got so many cute clothes in your closet. What’s so great about these?”
“My old clothes are sterile. No character. They were pulled off a rack at Target or Banana Republic.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
Cambria rolled her eyes. “I don’t want a cringe look decided on by some company. I want my own.”
Monica sighed and said, “Fine. You and your friends set your own fashion trends.” In her mind she told herself that thrifting was simply another teenage phase her daughter would eventually leave behind. But in the meantime, the treasure hunts continued and the clothes piled up.
Cambria’s room had never been very tidy, and with the intake of new outfits, it quickly resembled a chaotic storage locker. Knee-high clothes mounds filled all available floor space. Tied-up plastic bags sat on Cambria’s unmade bed.
“I’m trying not to nag, but you’ve got to do something about your room. It’s a disaster,” Monica finally said.
“What’s it matter?” Cambria asked defiantly. “It’s my room, I should be able to keep it however I want.”
“It’s not healthy. How do you know which clothes are clean and dirty? Everything you bring home needs to be washed, but I know you can’t keep track of it all. You need to get the clothes off the floor.”
“I don’t have room in my closet and dresser.”
“Then you can’t keep everything. Decide what you really like and what you can get rid of. You can’t just keep bringing stuff home.”
“Okay. I’ll work on it,” Cambria said in a not very convincing tone.
Monica waited several days and checked Cambria’s room each morning. There was no visible change in the fashion collection and eventually Monica decided she had to take action herself. While her daughter was at work, she waded into the bedroom holding plastic garbage bags.
Starting with the closet, which mostly contained clothes from before Cambria’s thrifting habit, Monica thinned out the collection. She chose dresses, pants, tops and coats Cambria had not worn in years and stuffed them into a bag. She moved from the closet to Cambria’s dresser and then to some of the untouched and unwashed items from thrift stores. The rattier and more disgusting the fabric looked, the more likely it ended up in a bag.
In the end, Monica pulled out four garbage bags’ worth of stuff and transferred the remaining clothes to hangers in the closet or put folded items into dresser drawers. She congratulated herself on finally uncovering her daughter’s floor and then stared at the four bags of refuse. What to do with them? She did not have room in her garbage bin and throwing them away felt like a waste. While she had recently grown to resent thrift stores, she decided it would be best to drop off the clothes as a charitable donation.
As she was about to haul the four bags to her car for a trip to Goodwill, Monica had a funny thought. It seemed inevitable that Cambria would come across some of the clothes from her room and buy them back without realizing she once owned them. Monica laughed to herself and untied the bag with clothes from Cambria’s closet. She took pictures of the contents so she would have proof to show her daughter when any items returned. Then she packed everything up again, drove to Goodwill, and got a tax deduction receipt after dropping the clothes in a donation bin.
Monica returned home feeling satisfied and refreshed by the cleanup project. She also liked the idea that the donated clothes might help someone with a real need. She felt so energized that she decided to attack her own closet. Surely, she had clothes in there she would never wear again and were simply taking up space.
Carrying another garbage bag, Monica critically eyed pantsuits and ugly sweaters. She pulled out a yellow and black plaid skirt and said to herself, “Hideous. I hope I only wore this once.” When she uncovered a fake leather jacket with frill hanging from the arms, she gulped and said, “Ugh. Where was I possibly going in this?” The skirt and jacket were dropped into the bag and Monica kept purging until it was full. Then she made a second trip to Goodwill.
When Cambria returned home and discovered the transformation of her room, she said nothing. She did not thank her mom for making it more livable or demand to know what happened to the extra clothes. Her mom did not mention it either. They both knew any discussion would lead to a fight and life was more peaceful simply pretending the room had changed on its own.
Ten days later, the clean-out was still being ignored and Cambria was less than a week away from starting school. Her mom brought up the idea of taking her shopping for first-week outfits.
“The mall has some good sales.”
“No offense, but I’d rather go shopping with my friends.”
Monica tried hard not to look offended. “I know you like your vintage stuff, but I thought for back-to-school I could buy you a few new things. Just some cute stuff.”
“I don’t think so. We don’t have the same taste and style.”
“Look, I was your age once. I can think like a teenager if I want to.”
Cambria scoffed and shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll buy my own stuff. You should be thanking me that you don’t have to spend any money.”
“I don’t mind once in a while.”
“I just wanna do my own thing. I think I’m going with a friend this afternoon.”
“Going where?”
“We’ll probably start by hitting up Goodwill. I wanna check if they’ve got anything we haven’t seen before.”
Monica shrugged and hid a smirk. “Okay, if that’s what you want. I can’t wait to see what you find.”
That night, she anxiously waited for her daughter to return home with a new set of treasures. She pulled up pictures on her phone of the clothes she donated so she could identify anything that looked familiar. She was not sure if there was a lesson for her daughter to learn, but they could share a laugh about any item that found its way back.
Cambria walked in with two paper-sacks’ worth of purchases, all from Goodwill. While her mom sat at their kitchen table, Cambria pulled out each item and raved about how little it cost. Monica nodded appreciatively but saw nothing in the first sack she recognized. Cambria moved to the second sack and Monica grew unmistakably disappointed as more unfamiliar pants and tops appeared.
“Okay, last two. Check these out,” Cambria said, reaching into the bag. She added with a laugh, “This is something you would never buy.” She pulled out the yellow and black plaid skirt Monica had expelled from her own closet. “It was only five dollars.”
Monica bit her lip to suppress a smile. “Interesting,” she slowly said.
“And look at this. Only $7.” Cambria presented the frilly, fake leather jacket. “You could never get this at the mall. I think I’ll wear it for first day of school.”
Monica could no longer fight the broad smile that covered her face. “Wow, you’re right about those last two things. I can’t imagine ever putting them on, but I’m sure they’ll look great on you.”
“I don’t get it. What’s so funny?” Cambria replied, not sure why her mom’s smile had suddenly turned into a belly laugh.
“Nothing. I’ll tell you in a few days.”
“You’re weird,” Cambria said with an eye roll.
“Oh yeah? Takes one to know one.”
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