Nobody puts baillee in the corner

It’s no secret that I love thrift stores. I might only have $2 in my pocket, but by God, I will probably walk out with a flannel shirt, book, coffee mug, and random t-shirt of a band I listened to in high school. However, what attracts us to certain things? Why do we buy what we buy? Thrift stores aren’t like department stores; everything has been owned by another person. It sounds weird, but you’re establishing a connection of sorts to the former owner. Maybe we’re in the same place that person was in when they originally bought those gently-worn Doc Martins. I bought a copy of Chelsea Chelsea Bang Bang from this thrift store by my house I love. In it, there was a card with the following printed message on the outside “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if, when you opened this card, all your stress could magically disappear?” When you open the card, the pre-printed text continued, “But since life isn’t quite that simple, maybe it will help you to know I’m thinking of you and hoping things get better real soon.” As sweet and thoughtful as this pre-written Hallmark greeting was, the following handwritten message is what got me:
Kelly,
Stay positive and I know things will get better for you!
XOXO Love you!
Sandy
What’s crazy is I took pride in the note. It made me smile because a total stranger cared this much about someone to buy them a copy of this book, and their words of encouragement were something I too needed.

I like to think about how the snowman coffee mug I bought once belonged to someone. Maybe they drank hot chocolate out of it and watched Love Actually like I do. Maybe they were the black sheep of the family and got it in their stocking instead of the black lipstick they asked for at an uncomfortable family Christmas celebration. Maybe it’ll light up one day and be an escaped artifact from the warehouse at the end of Indiana Jones. Who knows? It’s cool to try and think about where your newest pride and joy from the thrift store has come from. Like I said earlier, I love when little notes and to do lists fall out of a book into my lap. I actually want to start buying the used journals or write-in self help books. I think it’s fascinating to take a glimpse into the lives of others. Sometimes the parallels are uncanny; other times, they are wiser than I or vice versa. You get attached to an object that often reflects where you are in life: an embarrassing, hidden copy of Bridget Jones’s Diary when you’re trying to get through your 20s, one of The Maine’s tour shirts for when you’re in high school or want all the comforts of high school nostalgia without all the uncomfortable hellish elements of high school, and the stuffed Hagrid to cry all over when your heart is shattered into a million pieces (and I don’t know what anyone would get rid of this).

Our belongings take on facets of our personality. Parts of us latch on to them (hopefully not in an evil, locked in the Warrens’ home type way). I believe we buy certain things because the former owner was, in some way, connected to us. They were going through a breakup or in someway like your grandparent. They were single and trying to figure out being 22 or had similar tastes. Thrift stores are like giant scrapbooks and collages of other people’s pasts; they are like the long hallway filled with photos at your parents’ house. I don’t think it’s coincidental. We’re drawn to certain items for a reason, and once we’re past the point in our lives when we need a western Cinderella dress, we can pass it on to the next 16-year-old girl who wants to be a little different. She’ll proudly wear it with her Doc Martins while you get her older sister’s cowboy boots. As The Lion King taught us, it’s the thrift store of life. Timon definitely got that hula costume from Goodwill.