The Attic--one of my first loves

Over the weekend, I had a blast from the past come down to Boone to visit. Some old friends of mine from Berea, KY rented a cabin on top of Snaggy Mountain and settled in for what was winter’s first hint of a show. They came to celebrate my friend’s 40th birthday and they filled me in on the “goings on” in Berea—an old stomping ground of mine. Let me invite you into a bit of my history….. following college, I spent a year working/volunteering as an outreach social worker in Eastern Kentucky with the Christian Appalachian Project. I lived in a community of individuals in a roadside converted motel and had my own office attached to a large thrift store. The thrift store was named “The Attic”. Oh, the Attic….how I loved the Attic. Rene was the manager of the Attic. She was a beautiful southern woman, whose parents were missionaries and had raised her to be altruistic. She was also a single mother and drove a red convertible. You could tell she had lived a bit on the wild side somewhere along her life’s journey. Rene headed the bunch. JC was a chain smoking local who worked in the warehouse, loading and unloading, sorting, managing, and driving the big donation trucks around the mountain towns. He had a fast grin and a thick drawl and was as kind as the day is long. Ingrid and Becky worked the front of the house. Ingrid was from Germany originally. She had lived in Eastern Kentucky most of her adult life, but never left her accent behind and distinguished herself by having an Eastern Kentucky twang with a guttural German sound behind it. Ingrid was as sweet as pie. Becky was a local lady who loved the social aspects of working at the Attic. She knew her customers by name, they were neighbors, distant relations, or fellow church members or all three. Becky loved to talk and wanted to retire from the Attic as her career of choice. I was the lone social worker in the building, who came and had morning coffee with the group at 8:30 every morning to discuss details of the day. The young outsider who was “let in.” They accepted me as a Yankee among them and allowed me to cut my teeth in their presence. Furthermore,I had my own account at the Attic. As a volunteer, I was paid $100 a month in the form of a stipend. This money did not stretch far, even in those days (the early 90’s). So, I would often find treasures at the Attic that I could not resist, but had no money to buy. The folks there would just add it to my bill. They were very generous and understanding of my ongoing financial status. Why did I love the Attic so much? They had an entire wing dedicated to vintage clothing. ( see the picture above---I could almost smell the vintage clothing just by looking at the picture) They also had brand new clothes as well as gently used clothes for all ages. Households, shoes, and bedding were staple items in the store. Everything there had been donated to the Christian Appalachian Project. These donations were local as well as national---therefore, the merchandise did not necessarily reflect the local styles of the region, which is more typical than atypical if you think about it. Seriously, you never knew what you would find at this store. I bought an antique couch, steamer trunks, afghans, clothing, pottery, jewelry, etc….. all from the Attic. I should have just proclaimed that I would work for nothing because the majority of my paycheck would go right back to the organization. The Attic was also a community resource. People could get vouchers for school clothes, winter coats, professional clothing, etc. Families who experienced house fires could come to the Attic and shop for free. Victims of domestic violence, families in severe poverty, those attempting to gain employment….the Attic was designed to be a safety net of physical resources. They could clothe a town with the amount of clothing you could find in that store and in the warehouse. I am certain that over all of its years of existence, this thrift store brought thousands of smiles into the world.

Before I left my post in August of 1995 to return to graduate school, I made the Attic a sign out of a mosaic of used stamps. It was my farewell gift to them, my coffee group, my mentors, and my way of life as a volunteer. Many life lessons for a young Midwestern woman were learned under the roof of the Attic.

According to the Berea Citizen Newspaper, the Attic closed its doors this past September. The landlord has yet to find another renter and it is currently boarded up with a sign outside. Wish that I could rent it……. The power of the memories of that building will always hold a dear place in my heart and I wanted to share its story with you. If you have any stories you would like to share about your favorite thrift store or a thrift store that has played a large role in your thrifting development, we encourage you to tell us your story. As always, happy hunting!