Our Stories

The story of Rosie Wells
My mama didn't raise me to be a "Second Hand Rose." Practicality reigned in our household, a spartan, "no funkiness", "good quality" existence and very 50's. Catholic School uniforms left my wardrobe even more bare bones, so my creative spirit lay dormant until early adulthood. Once finding my passion/addiction for thrifting, it became clear that mom would never be on board. She "cluck clucked", rolled her eyes, and grumbled about my "wasted" Saturdays until the day she died.
Around the age of 22, I met Helena (soon to be my sister-in-law). She was raising a brood of six children and caring for her disabled husband in Queens, NY. Money was tight, but that household was full of creativity, "funky stuff", and a family passion for thrifting. I was transported to another dimension of living. My spartan upbringing never prepared me for the possibility that one could find anything needed for a fraction of the cost and that the process could be fun and addicting. Helena, who just turned eighty and now lives in Hickory, remains a passionate thrifter and a lifelong mentor.
In 1978 we bought a little old farmhouse with "good bones", but little "soul" and my journey thrifting in the High Country began. This house is now a show of yard sale treasures. Almost every piece of furniture,all of the dishes, and artwork come with a story. I write this seated in a chair from Blowing Rock, next to an exercise bike from the Salvation Army, looking at a Buddha that was traded for DVDs. I am especially drawn to art and I harbor a fantasy of someday having a gallery show of "Found Treasures" (especially the "Dogs Playing Poker" on velvet that hangs in the back of the closet.)
My children always had stories related to their clothes and toys and even though there was often a lot of eye rolling, I do believe that they were tickled to get mom's finds. When I gave my son's soon-to-be wife her first yard sale gift, he commented (while rolling his eyes) "Welcome to the family!"
Now there is three grandchildren, all of whom have been treated to special "finds" since birth. The older two have spent many an hour with granny in the thrift stores. We now have a family tradition of "Yard Sale Santa." Each year, along with some new gifts, my family doubles the excitement of opening presents by exchanging gifts from yard sales. My daughter-in-law's gift to me last year of an Eileen Fisher dress was divine!
This Christmas, my 10 year old granddaughter got a beautiful felted hat from Rams Rack and a funky dress from Threads of Hope. Yard Sale Santa had books for the grandsons and a designer belt for my daughter (new, price tag said $85). And I will dedicate another bountiful year of being a Second Hand Rosie to Helena.

The story of Rosie Peters
Before I knew how to spell my name, I was watching my Grandma barter at garage sales. Her name is Viola and she lived through the Great Depression. The daughter of German immigrants, she came from a family with 7 children. She learned how to make something from nothing very early on in life. Grandma has 6 children, 18 grandchildren, and 13 great grandchildren. She is a weaver and uses discarded clothes to create beautiful rugs. She has done this for over 50 years.
When I was 5 years old, I was indoctrinated into the garage sale culture. I was privileged to learn from the best! On summer Saturday mornings, my Grandma and Aunt would arrive shortly after dawn at our house to pick me up. I would get into Gram's forest green Chevy Nova, which had jacked up tires and an a.m. radio. I had the whole back seat to myself, which was unusual because I always had to share with my brother, Mark. Grandma would have the newspaper, with the ads circled and numbered, the phone book, opened to the pages with the town maps, a couple packs of Wrigley Spearmint gum, and a purse full of $1's and change. She taught me early to never let anyone know how much money I really had and always give them small bills. This is one of the nuggets of bartering wisdom that I truly believe made her successful. She would agree to a discounted price and pull out exactly that amount from her purse, feigning that she only had that much money on her. Give that woman an Oscar! She seemed to have an almost supernatural sense that let her know when to walk away and when to ask for a better price. As a small child with little understanding of the ways of the world, I thought my Grandma was a masterful woman who could get what she wanted when she asked for it. I would just stand next to her and watch in awe. Grandma would buy for the ever growing family clan, clothes, shoes, winter coats, snow suits, Easter dresses, etc. Needless to say, Grandma, Aunt Jan, and I were a trio of garage sale trouble. We would fill up the car with clothes and then go back to Grandma's house to wash, dry, and sort them. They would end up in big piles on the kitchen floor and I would help to put them in trash bags so they were ready for pick up by designated family members. My mother had no interest in these adventures and would often scoff at my "finds."Most of the family would make fun of us, but I knew that she was on to something, whether it be an obsession, a mental illness, or just a different way of life. I tend to embrace garage saling as a way of life. Since those early days, I have shopped at garage sales whenever possible. I need one of those bumper stickers that says" STOPS for GARAGE SALES". I continue to use my Grandmother's "techniques" in order to be a successful bargain hunter. Grandma turned 97 years old in January. I would like to dedicate this to her and thank her for all that she has taught me about life through simple garage sale lessons. Love you Old Lady!