A few days ago, I confessed my love for other people's junk. I don't mean the assets in their jeans, I am talking about the consumer waste they cast aside with reckless abandon.
There are several avenues for getting my fix, but the most satisfying, the place where this thrift addict can get her quickest high, is a store here in Austin called The Blue Hanger.
The Blue Hanger is actually a Goodwill outlet store. Yes, there exists an outlet store for Goodwill. I know, many of you are shocked that there is a level of retail below that of your run of the mill Goodwill. I can assure you, there is. And it is my mecca.
The Blue Hanger is a huge warehouse with sticky, concrete floors and shoddy fluorescent lighting that flickers intermittently. The 'wares' are dumped onto long, wooden tables on wheels and then lined up to form aisles. There are tables of clothing and then tables of well, everything else. The shopping carts sport wobbly wheels and without a doubt more germs than the CDC would be able to identify in one afternoon.
One of my close friends shares my passion for thrifting and isn't bothered in the least that what we are digging through came from other people and places and other people's places, if you catch my drift. We have a neighbor though, who, despite admitting that thrift shopping is the most cost effective way to clothe her children, simply will not set foot into the store. She is grossed out by the entire experience. Her name is Sabrina.
My thrifting friend and I accidentally created a game, a bit of an inside joke that we laugh about while we are shopping. When we dig through the tables, if we find something incredibly detestable and aren't afraid to pick it up, we grab the item gingerly with our thumb and forefinger, hold it up, and say out loud to one another..."Sabrina!".
In the years I've been going to the Blue Hanger, I am both delighted and disgusted in equal measure to share with you some of our "Sabrina" finds.
In no particular order or level of offensiveness, we have found banana peels, used bandaids, half empty soda cans, moldy shoes, Halloween candy from the days of plastic masks and highly flammable jumpsuits, wadded up Kleenex in coat pockets, and even condoms, thankfully still in the wrapper!
Today, as I toiled through the piles of clothes I found an unused OB tampon. Seriously, I had no idea how tiny those things are. In another table was a medication capsule of some sort. I also found a Swisher Sweet cigar that might have come from my grandfather's polyester leisure suit.
As it fell towards me, I just recoiled, said to myself..."Sabrina" and smiled.
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