Opshopaholic
For anyone who knows me, I am ashamedly proud of my mad op shop skillz (with a Z) Upon first encounter with me, it is not uncommon to give you a run down of each item of clothing I am wearing and how much I paid for them, the total outfit coming to no more that $15. The bigger the saving , the bigger the gloat. Everyone who knows me knows the legendary story of finding a $1.50 Chanel dress at Vinnies and selling it on trade me for $300. In fact, I have the ability to turn $10 into 2 outfits fit for a Remuera Mum.
My thriftiness has permeated into the culture of our family. For a long time my children believed that toys and clothes came slightly grubby from, you guessed it, ‘the op shop’. Recipients of our gifts would find (somebody elses name) printed on the bottom of a cherished well made wooden fire truck or a ‘happy birthday darling (somebody elses name) printed on the front cover of a book.
I am the antithesis of a mall mum. Well they delight over their 50% bargains from the latest department store, I snigger with superiority calculating the vastly increased amount of slightly used products I could buy for the same price.
Despite best efforts to get my family as delighted by me by my backbreaking bargains, My husband, like the queen, is not…. actually never, impressed. Despite looking fabulous walking in to my mums house with the 3rd new $5 dress this week, she signs with silent disapproval at my thrifty yet exploding wardrobe.
The truth is, like all addicts, I was in denial about my obsession with grabbing that bargain, even if it made no sense. I have a suitcase bulging with size 10 clothes that I will one day fit in to. Strangely clothes sizes must be getting smaller as the suitcases are now beginning to fill with size 12 clothes as well.
My op shop ways however, had to come to an end. Earning radically less than last year coupled with sharing a 10m2 sleeping space with 3 other people, each with 2 entertainment cabinet shelves for our clothing, would do that.
My draw allocation for clothes
I was brutal with my clothing, leaving only the necessary items to use. Feeling slightly smug, I felt like I had achieved my goal of living simply.
Second pay day
But then the fateful day of relapse arrived. It was a cloudy day in Waihi, the kind of day that encourages shopping to you drop. After a guilty pie without the kids and with an hour to spare , I drove pass what looks like a thrift store I had never set foot in before. Unable to resist, I swerved into an adjacent carpark for just a ‘quick look’. Like an alcoholic who says just ‘one drink’ I was kidding myself.
As I entered, the clothes looked slightly theatrical. I looked around to see a goblin head, an American Indian headdress and an adult sized cow onesie. Slightly perplexed I asked “ Is this an op shop?” The store person responds “It was a costume hire but we are getting rid of everything, it is fill a bag for $5” At that moment my pupils dilated, each costume suddenly took on a ‘work of art’ quality. I could see how painstaking it must have been to sew sequins on to that burlesque dress or the time it took to perfectly align the udders to that cow. I saw the value of each product and had to save them all from its unappreciating, undervaluing owner. Clothes flew off hangers in unadulterated mania. Piles turned to bags, bags turned to bigger bags, bigger bags turned to bins. It was a frenzy.
Once the items were in my possession and our bank account emptied out, I returned home to find a place hide them from Tui , in our 10m2 cabin. Pulling out the costumes from the bins, a pile made up of Hercules, kilts, Dracula, Santa Claus, Pocahontas and many more fanciful characters began to grow to the size of one tree hill.
I was slightly overwhelmed
The come down
Oh no, not again. The guilt, panic and shock of what I had did set in. I had this disturbing flashback of the time I bought six oak doors off trade me for a bargain. True story, I didn’t even own a bloody house!
We don’t have the money for this….We don’t have the space. My skill of a good find turned to a guilty , random expense.
Being very pragmatic, I needed to put this right.
The plan in my mind was
Buy a shed off trademe to house the costumes
Okay bad idea
Hide evidence from Tui and prevent him from finding out.
Buy a plastic human torso to dress, photograph then sell costumes on trademe ( I really don’t know why a plastic human torso was so essential to my plan but it was)
Keep the super cool costumes for kids
Recoup money through selling costumes then happily share with Tui our bank statement
Once profiting from the selling of costumes, add this to my list of op shop finds to gloat about
Want not…What?
Its been three months since we have tried to live simply. Although it has been the best move ever, old habits die hard. I have had to get my head around living with less, spending less and being content with less. Our goal was to work less with tui working 3 days and I, 2. In reality we haven’t adjusted our lifestyle to our earnings. Luckily being teachers, Tui and I have been able to pick up extra days to cover this and by May we should be back to our cruiser work schedule.
As I watch my children running around dressed as clowns getting joy from simple pleasures. I glimpse out Mt Fun Times in the bula room and shake my head as the road to this was a bit loopy.
Want not breeds peace and contentment will be my mantra from the next three months.
