Things changed after I got to high school. My mother, who had been sick most of my life, got a job. My wardrobe changed, and I finally got a room of my own. Though I was not lacking, I wanted more, which meant more money.
Money I did not have, so I started repurposing my clothes. My journey led me to my own style, which is bohemian chic. Though I did not dress in the latest fashion, my style was me and I did not let anyone sway me. What little money, I could muster went to the local thrift shop and I would go garage sales with my sister. I was the first recycler in my family. I even decorated my room with things from the thrift shop. I am a repainting, restyling and repurposing.
I had learned from Mrs. Hatter (earlier post) on how to make style and restyle. I had started dressing some of my friends. They like my style, and I liked it too. I felt like Molly Ringwald character in "Pretty in Pink". Making do with what you have and looking fabulous in the process.
My thrift shopping ways continued as I got older and had my own job. I just could not stay out of the thrift shop. I remember two incidents that happened that made value thrift shops as the way to go. On one of my shopping hauls, I found a camera case. It was black with silver trim and looked like a box with a flap. It only cost me 50 cents. I used it as a purse. My friends at work raved over that bag. Everyone wanted to know where I got that purse. Of course I told and they couldn't believe it. That is also when I discovered that some of the ladies were thrift shopper too.
My other incident was with my daughter's school. I had moved to an area called Park Forest. She was starting school. The local thrift in the area was only 10 minutes away. I love this thrift shop. They always had colored tag day, each week a different color was half off. A lot of their children clothes were 10 and 25 cents.
One day, I stopped in to see what was shaking. I left with two garbage bags full of clothes. I also found some crafting material (buttons, fabric, paint, and other goodies). Before I left I made sure that I matched up outfits. I washed, ironed, painted, added buttons; the whole nine yards.
My most proud moment came when her teacher sent home a note asking me not to send my child to school in her good clothes. I had to laugh. Those were my daughter's good, bad, everyday clothes. It made my heart proud. Part 3 - My true journey begins.
By Georgetta from Waterloo, IA
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Editor's Note: Here are the other two essays in this series
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