One of my favorite things to do is to go thrifting. Either alone or with a friend, or even my mom. At the Goodwill down the street, or in small towns around the state — it’s sort of an addiction. Not an unhealthy one though, I don’t think.
Over the past few months, I’ve acquired some little treasures. A wool blanket for $6 in rural Oregon, a wooden cutting board for a couple dollars in the Berkshires, mismatched silver utensils in the Hudson Valley, a copper saucepan in some small town outside of Portland, and a bunch of other things in thrift stores around town. My sister found these ceramic plates at a local shop, and luckily knew I’d love them.
I’m usually too impatient to look for clothing, and always go straight to the housewares. At every store, my favorite aisle is the one with the baskets and wooden things. Glass jars, wicker baskets, ceramic mugs (or plates, or bowls…), wooden spoons and cutting boards, natural textiles — these are all things I collect. I admit that I do enjoy a trip to Ikea from time to time, but it’s important to me to have good quality, well-built things in my house. And because of that I prefer worn, imperfect to new and sleek pieces.
In her last years, my grandma would always send all her house guests home with something from her closet or kitchen cupboards. And they were definitely not always things we wanted. Sometimes I think that one day I’ll be one of those old women who spends her time in thrift stores, buying strange and unique gifts for friends just because she thinks they’d like them. Then I remember that I already do that.