People-Watching Mecca

The song “Heat Wave” was playing in the background, as I stood wondering if he was one of the ASU football players. That’s how big he was, this young man in whose shadow I stood at the Boone Goodwill checkout counter, thus my surprise when he asked the clerk, “Do you still have that three foot plastic crayon that was here last week?”

And so it goes, “thrifting” in the High Country, Winter 2011.

Would it be fair to say that Goodwill, Boone, is the Mecca for local people watching? Diamonds and pearls, butt cracks and babies, cleavage and curls, big hair, no hair, fancy and frumpy they all converge here.

What about the older couple spotted carrying out an inflated oversized replica of a Budweiser bottle? Huh? Wouldn’t you love to know their story. Yes, one person’s trash IS another’s treasure, and in the world of “flippers” (those who resell at flea markets) it is likely that Budweiser treasures DO have value.

In house wares I recently enjoyed conversation with a charming twelve year old boy about the Magic 8 Ball on the shelf. It was broken. But we didn’t give up until each of us tried about 10 shakes. You never know what friendships may be forged at Goodwill!

All the while there was a young man strolling up and down the aisles, not looking like the shopper type, and wearing an old Army jacket that was adorned with a button that read, “Vote for Pedro”. Am I missing something here?

Some shop Goodwill strictly for the clothing, while others head straight for house wares. One sweet local lady can always be found checking out the jewelry counter first. And it is either the furniture section or book section that seems to provide comfort and consolation to reluctant spouses who’d rather be someplace else.

Like the castoffs from Gilligan’s Island, I look forward to seeing the “regulars” when visiting Goodwill. Pamela, Dawn, Anna, Jeff, Louis, Wendy, Karen….and the list goes on…

30 minutes at Goodwill

As many of you know, I recently gave birth to my precious son, Hank. I have been on maternity leave since he arrived and have been slowly adjusting to the shared duties of parenthood with my thoughtful husband. With a great deal of snow falling this winter as well as a different sleeping and eating schedule than I am accustomed to , I have not ventured out of the house much in the past 5 weeks. Recently, my husband offered to watch Baby Hank while his mother and I ran some errands and "hit the goodwill". Honestly, it was the first time I had been back in over 6 weeks. No longer big bellied pregnant and looking for nursing bras and maternity clothes, but now hoping that I would fit back into something near my old size. I took a sigh of relief and walked in the front door. As always, I started with a quick swoop over the dresses--years of practice has shown that you actually look at the bottom of the dresses and not at the tops---the bottoms hang more freely and the tops are smashed together and often you cannot see the real selection. With a quick run threw, I had to use the texture and color strategy---I prefer certain textures of clothing, like velvet, linen, patchwork, embroidery, silk, vintage chintz, etc..... certain colors also look better on me than others, green, rose, wine, turquoise, etc.....therefore, I only take time to actually look at any dresses (or skirts, shirts and so on) that meet the criteria of both texture and color and then we hope for style and size. This makes looking very fast. After the dresses, I head over to the skirts and find my first treasure of the day in a rose colored linen J Jill ruffled skirt, sz.SP--small petite--not sure about the size but the elastic waist leaves me hopeful. At least, I could have something to aim for if it is close. The stomach is the last thing to bounce back after you have a baby I have been told. From the skirts, I aim for the shoe racks. Then , while in the back of the store, I quickly go through the household/toy/electronics aisles. Spying my mother-in-law shopping, I head over for the linens racks and again use my texture/color technique, but this time it is different because I am now looking for quality items-- I especially like linen tablecloths and vintage prints. I have also gained a quick eye for high thread count cotton bedding. The eye spies it, the hand confirms it with a quick touch and then I pull it off the rack and take a real look at it. Time saver. Not much to really look at that day. So, I take a quick glance over the furniture and then head back to the shirts. I go down the medium aisle--no longer stalking the XL for stylish shirts that will fit over my enormous stomach. I quickly come across a pink velvet button up sweater with intricate silver buttons. Knowing this is a high quality item, I take a look at the tag and it too is a J Jill, sz.M. I am now satisfied with my hunt and head into the dressing room. We are about 20 minutes into the excursion. Pat has found some shoes and is happy to look around while I try on my clothes. I ask her to cross her fingers because I am really not sure what size I am wearing currently. I love going into the dressing rooms, that is where people have left an entire rack of "surprise clothes". I have found some nice stuff on that rack. The pickings were slim in there today, but no problem, I had my two JJill items to try on. Crossing my fingers and holding my breath, I slip into the skirt and am tickled to be able to zip it up and button it. Then, the velvet sweater, oh, did I love the look and feel of that sweater......luckily, it fit easily over the shirt I had on. I knew at that point that I had two keepers. $3.50 a piece if my pricing recollections were correct--5 weeks of new motherhood can fog your mind---I am certain that many of you would agree. Recently, our Goodwill has had some pretty fierce lines and check out can be a real pain. Today, the line was only 2 deep and right on the edge of 30 minutes, Pat and I were on our way back to the car. I felt very satisfied with my first trip back to the beloved Goodwill.....not really looking for anything, just fulfilling my need to hunt. I want to thank Pat, my mother-in-law and an avid rosebud for joining me and my husband, for knowing what is good for me and taking care of the baby while we went on the hunt. We would love to hear from you about any strategies that you might have to "quick shop" thrift stores. I know that some of you Rosebuds are professionals at this and it would be great to hear some your tricks of the trade. As always Happy Hunting folks!

Rosie Holiday Blog

A quick rendition of a holiday classic with a little Rosie flair....... Be safe, be happy, be joyful, and be blessed.

12 days of Christmas ..according to the Secondhand Rosies

On the first day of Christmas, the Rosies gave to me a bag sale at the Salvation Army
On the second day of Christmas, the Rosies gave to me 2 crocheted rugs and a bag sale at the Salvation Army
On the third day of Christmas, the Rosies gave to me 3 vintage pins, 2 crocheted rugs, and a bag sale at the Salvation Army,
On the fourth day of Christmas, the Rosies gave to me 4 velvet elvises 3 vintage pins, 2 crocheted rugs, and a bag sale at the Salvation Army,
On the fifth day of Christmas, the Rosies gave to me 5 gypsy rings , 4 velvet elvises, 3 vintage pins, 2 crocheted rugs, and a bag sale at the Salvation Army,
On the sixth day of Christmas, the Rosies gave to me 6 rubber stamps, 5 gypsy rings, 4 velvet elvises, 3 vintage pins, 2 crocheted rugs, and a bag sale at the Salvation Army,
On the seventh day of Christmas, the Rosies gave to me 7 cookie cutters, 6 rubber stamps, 5 gypsy rings, 4 velvet elvises, 3 vintage pins, 2 crocheted rugs, and a bag sale at the Salvation Army,
On the eighth day of Christmas, the Rosies gave to me 8 vinyl albums, 7 cookie cutters, 6 rubber stamps, 5 gypsy rings, 4 velvet elvises, 3 vintage pins, 2 crocheted rugs, and a bag sale at the Salvation Army,
On the ninth day of Christmas, the Rosies gave to me 9 beanie babies , 8 vinyl albums, 7 cookie cutters, 6 rubber stamps, 5 gypsy rings, 4 velvet elvises, 3 vintage pins, 2 crocheted rugs, and a bag sale at the Salvation Army,
On the tenth day of Christmas , the Rosies gave to me 10 silver spoons , 9 beanie babies, 8 vinyl albums, 7 cookie cutters, 6 rubber stamps, 5 gypsy rings, 4 velvet elvises, 3 vintage pins, 2 crocheted rugs, and a bag sale at the Salvation Army,
On the eleventh day of Christmas, the Rosies gave to me 11 mismatched plates, 10 silver spoons, 9 beanie babies, 8 vinyl albums, 7 cookie cutters, 6 rubber stamps, 5 gypsy rings, 4 velvet elvises, 3 vintage pins, 2 crocheted rugs, and a bag sale at Salvation Army,
On the twelveth day of Christmas, the Rosies gave to me 12 linen napkins,11 mismatched plates, 10 silver spoons, 9 beanie babies, 8vinyl albums, 7 cookie cutters, 6 rubber stamps, 5 gypsy rings, 4 velvet elvises, 3 vintage pins, 2 crocheted rugs, and a bag sale at Salvation Army.



From: “Yard Sale Santa” reads the tag on close to half the gifts I have ready to pack for Christmas. These gifts are all second hand, but top shape, and they were expensive when new.
This is a tradition, created by me (“RosieW.), to add to the fun of our family Christmas.
This year I am especially excited about my stash of second hand gifts, but I dare not give anything away about these treasures until “The Day”, but I do promise some pictures. I have too many family members reading this blog.
Of course, the red, 8 pound item, found last week at Goodwill will be one of the main features (that one for grandson).
I’d encourage everyone to give this idea a spin. What relative will diss’ you when they receive something Patagonia, FLAX, LLBean, or Grammaci? And if they do, then they are total “Thorns”….you can tell them the Rosies said so!

Stay warm, be safe, and blessings to all.

South African Scraps

See what I mean by overwhelming. This is my new fave shop. It’s huge and the people are nice and it’s a total mess. It kind of looks organised in this pic, but trust me, it’s not. I love it.

Editorial Note: Rosie P. here, I wanted to take a minute and introduce our first guest rosebud columnist corresponding from South Africa, my dear friend, Rosebud Joanna. Jo and I met 9 years ago at the Blue Springs Cafe over a piece of foot high meringue pie--their signature roadside dish. Blue Springs Cafe is located in Highland,IL right off of I-70 halfway between Effingham, IL and St. Louis, MO. Joanna can be described as a woman with a deep affection for hot cinnamon rolls, live music, funky clothing, kitty cats, and thrift stores. Joanna is one of my fabulous women friends that I have been honored to meet through my husband and his gang of childhood buddies. Back in the day, we shopped the Tri-fecta of thrifts in St. Louis--a Goodwill, St. Vincent De Paul, and a mega Salvation Army store all within 3 blocks of each other in downtown right off of the St. Louis U campus. Those winter days of almost a decade ago, we donned our secondhand wool coats and hand knit scarves to hunt some of the local and largest faves in the area. Those were the days. When Jo left for the Peace Corps she entrusted me with her collection of books called "The Family Creative Workshop" published in 1975, volumes of handmade craft ideas and "hippie" art projects that were "back to the earth". She also gave me some of her houseplants to sit--I am glad to say they are still alive. Thank you Joanna for taking the time to provide us with your distant and exotic tales of "repurposing" fabric scraps in South Africa. Happy Hunting Jo!



SOUTH AFRICAN SCRAPS
Ok, here goes. My love for thrifting was born in Effingham, IL and started at the mother of all thrift stores, Second Hand Rose. That place was a treasure trove of all things polyester, funky and old. I loved the organised chaos, the old ladies manning the money box and even the smell of old dirt.After college I moved to St. Louis, MO, which was a gold mine for thrift stores, running the gamut from super organised Goodwill to random run-down buildings in the shadier parts of downtown and south St. Louis. Of course the shadier stores were my fave, not only for the haphazard way of “displaying” the goods (because this make it more like a treasure hunt!), but also for the oh-so colourful people who frequented these places. Visiting the old standards and hunting for new promising stores was my favorite pastime.Fast forward to present day. I now live in South Africa with my South African husband and two little boys, in a little, rural northern town called Polokwane. I was placed here in 2004 as a US Peace Corps volunteer and here I am now six years, a husband and two little boys later. Life is good…except for the complete lack of thrift stores. Ok, there are second-hand shops full of awesome old furniture, knick-knacks, records and books in Afrikaans. However, there isn’t the traditional thrift store; the one with all that stuff plus linens, sets of dishes and most importantly, clothing. Ok, to be fair, there is one thrift store in town but it isn’t even worth trying to parallel park my truck for. So I’ve gotten my fix in other places, such as so-called China shops (shops owned by Chinese people selling cheap stuff imported from China), second-hand shops (this could be another blog) and most recently, fabric scraps.Yes, fabric scraps. South African culture is rich in traditional fabrics with which they make traditional clothing. There is a place in my town called Indian Centre - so named because most of the businesses owned by Indian immigrants. This is a shopping plaza used solely by rural-dwelling South Africans, and an occasional Peace Corps volunteer. It has a taxi rank in the middle (public transport hub) and around the perimeter are shops. The shops are home to crap made in China, bulk tasteless snacks (for repackaging and selling at schools) and fabric shops. Lots of fabric shops. And I know every one and can write a book about the service and selection of each one. I have trawled these shops many times, often with a baby strapped to me. Because I think I may very well be the only white person to frequent this place and thanks to the cute babies I bring along, I know most of the owners and workers in the shops.Fabric scraps. So with the seemingly mass production of traditional clothing by women working from tiny little chipboard enclosed rooms located above the fabric shops, there are then, of course, lots of discarded scraps of fabric. I’ve been dying to do something creative with the traditional fabric and fabric from other parts of Africa, however, two little boys and a full-time job made it neigh impossible to dig my heels in and get started. However, a seed was planted and it had time to germinate and grow while I waited patiently for my little ones to become more independent. And now the time has come to pick that fruit, so to speak.My craft of choice (for now) is quilting. My mom is an avid quilter and I made my first tie quilt from my farmer Dad’s old blue jeans. Now, a few years later, I again will be salvaging discarded yet reusable material to make something new and awesome. I believe the term for it is “repurposing”.All I had to do was ask a seamster (male seamstress?) I know for his scraps. He came out with a wonderful bag of goodies. I was addicted. Awesome stuff for free! The process that follows is a little like the nesting women do before a new baby arrives: Sorting (yes, Mom, I’m sorting!), washing, untangling – which, thanks to the agitator, involves much time, patience and a pair of scissors. Then I hang them to dry (thanks to the South African sun we don’t need a clothes dryer) and iron them. This is truly a labor of love because these aren’t nice large, square pieces of material, some are quite small or misshapen (I’ve found full sleeves, bottoms of pants), so ironing and folding are time consuming jobs. Don’t even get me started on the cutting process. Eish.With the assistance of my mother in law, we sorted the material into four potential quilts. It was really cool to see the different patterns and colors come together. Going into a regular fabric store is overwhelming, there are so many possibilities and combinations. However, with the random assortment of off cuts from wedding party attire, traditional dresses, aprons, etc., I had but a few choices, which made it almost effortless. Like they were calling to me to be on a certain team.So now I’m in the throws of a Team Traditional Brown single-sized Rail Fence quilt and Team Colorful Purples waiting in the wings, with Team Blue Red Yellow to follow. And yesterday I got another wonderful bag of goodies from my old friend Diana, which is waiting patiently on my ironing board what I mean by overwhelming.

Pictures of my most recent trip to Indian Centre follow:



This is me going back into the shop at Indian Centre from where I was given a large bag of goodies. I forgot to take pics for you all, so we went back. Note that I’m parked far back from the actual parking spot. I’ve been parked in too many times, so I’ve learned to create some havoc of my own by making sure to avoid that situation.

Inside A1 Curtains and Fabric - going up the stairs to see my friend Diana. As you can see, the place is a bit of a mess. There’s a new owner, though, an Indian Lady, to whom I felt like I needed to pay an entrance fee. The previous owner, an Indian guy, was always nice and welcoming, never stared too hard at my parcels from other stores, unlike this new lady. Maybe it’ll be a clue to her to get better stock. Anyway, Diana works above her shop.

Hopefully she’ll use the rent increase money to get a better variety of fabrics : ) So these ladies upstairs pay (as of January 2011) R450/month (that’s about $70) for rent. It’s really not too expensive considering an outfit like the one she has on below (standing) could cost anywhere from R600 ($90) and she seems to be pretty busy.

This is her cube. There is space for about six cubes in this upstairs area. And almost every upstairs and downstairs within Indian Centre is like this. All with women and men churning out clothes.

This is Diana rocking an awesome new twist on traditional attire. She’s got the typical head wrap and she’s using the trad fabric, but she’s mixed it up by piecing together different patterns and adding the oh-so-cute jacket with ruffles. Her friend is seated. Looking at her outfit makes me wonder if she wasn’t going to create another such masterpiece with the bag of scraps she gave me. I asked for something, therefore she wanted to give it to me. As a thank you I will have to commission her to make me that traditional skirt I’ve been meaning to have made.

And here’s the bag of fabric from Diana hanging out to dry. The little legs in the background belong to our youngest, Jesse.

And here we have my quilt top made from my first batch of scraps.

Let me take this opportunity to thank my fabulous husband for putting up with me taking over a corner of his music room and for not getting exasperated when I’ve forgotten that we have children who need looking after. Also to two Peace Corps volunteers, Beth and Paula, for assistance with dumpster diving, picture taking and general crafting togetherness.

The Law of Attraction?

Bippity Boppity Boo, has it EVER happened to you? Call it “Law of Attraction”, “Cosmic Ordering” or just dang luck, but there seems to be abundance in positive thinking when it comes to hunting for something second hand.

“IF YOU EVER SEE……..” .Only half in jest, my friends beg my attention with mournful requests for certain items, and nine times out of ten the coveted item will be found. And needless to say, “throwing it out to the universe” has become ritual in our family.

I am currently looking for a good leather belt, and size 12 Crocs, for my son in law, as well as Sinatra on vinyl for the guy who styles my hair, and for the next few years ANYTHING Hollister will be a hit with my pre-teen granddaughter.

Years back it was a beautiful tweed “city coat” for my friend’s husband, and to this day, at dinner parties it’s inevitable that she’ll point to me and say….”If you ever want……”

There seems to be a different ethos within the thrifting community shifts the universe toward sending us what we need. Could this be because most people who find joy in thrifting are not greedy, but simply creative people who love the “hunt” and who feel great joy in sharing with others. Again,“The Law of Attraction”?

Recently a “Rosebud” told the story of finding Tiki Lights for a wedding at a Yard Sale after searching all the retail outlets in Boone. It was a great, and inexpensive find, and just made the day! You can’t help but wonder sometimes about this synchronicity.

The Pea Coat, most beautiful, authentic, made in Boston and mint condition, was found last week in the Goodwill in Black Mountain. My intention to find one had been “out there” for about a month, and I must admit that I am always filled with wonder and disbelief when something is manifested.

I do believe that the magic wands that bring us this abundance will remain fine tuned if we stay in a place of gratitude for the abundance we create. Happy hunting!

One Leg of a Girdle

( Editor's note: Though the Rosies are from two different generations, they share very similar stories that both began by giving to others through volunteer work. This is Rosie W.'s story of her time in Washington state.)

One leg of a girdle, and parts from an old Army fighter plane were some of the “treasures?” one could dig up in the authentic, and often spooky, attic of the Mission Building at St. Mary’s Mission in Omak, Washington. The school, Paschal Sherman Indian School, was located on the Colville Reservation in eastern WA.

This is where I spent some time in the early ‘70’s as a volunteer for the Jesuit Volunteer Corps, and where my husband and I spent our first years of marriage in a tiny room off the back of the boy’s dormitory.

The attic became my haunt. Donations came in regularly, and it was fun to rummage through the odd assortment of boxes from individuals as well as government surplus items.

It was there I found the old cedar chest that I trekked back across the country. At one time it was used as a coffin for one of the nuns who died years ago….short German nuns they were! There is still an inscription in faint pencil script on the inside of the chest which notes that “Sister ?” died October 18, 1920 in the evening. There is a faint list of witnesses too.

The attic also manifested a source of refrigeration for friends who were living off the grid. This was Army surplus, and the only problem was it had “Human Blood” stamped all over the outside, and it became quite the conversation piece in their home.

Folks sent toys for the children as well, but sadly some donations were in such poor shape that we staff had to trash many an item. It still makes me smile to remember the day the smaller girls had a “rebellion” in the Army Quonset hut that served as the gym, and began tossing all the “white honkey” dolls off the balcony. They deserved better, but we all learned to “make do”.

I taught sixth grade in a converted garage with all furnishings being cast offs from the outside world. In the end, none of this mattered. We were a small happy bunch who lived with the children 24/7. There was a pet coyote, lots of singing, dancing, community meals, playing and love.

And one leg of a girdle remains my best example of a donation gone awry.

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!