One man's trash is another man's treasure.
I know this to be true because on any given day of the week, I'm more than likely wearing something that I got from a thrift store.
Thrift stores are full of garbage, if you want to look at it in that way. But I, I see treasure. Ok, most of it is junk, but amidst that junk are gems, believe me.
Some of my favorite shirts were acquired during a thrift store shopping spree.
I have Polynesian shirt-jackets, a wonderful Chinese shirt, and plain, white men's shirts that are so comfortable because they've already been "broken in."
I've noticed lately, though, thrift stores aren't what they used to be.
I don't quite understand the reason behind selling new furniture at a secondhand store. Doesn't that defeat the purpose?
That nonsense aside, thrifting is by far one of my favorite things to do.
Thrifting saves money and nurtures one's inner bohemian.
It takes a creative mind to shop in a thrift store and pull an outfit together without looking like you're homeless or worse a thrift store fashion victim.
There's no doubt shopping is an art, especially when you're not bothered by a perky, young dingdong with a headset asking you if you need help every two seconds.
When I go to a secondhand store I try never to go with a purpose. The only time having a specific object in mind for purchase at a thrift store is usually Halloween.
So I go in, unfettered, mind clear, open. It's almost like Zen.
While I walk down the short-sleeve shirt aisle, I look for colors and patterns to jump out at me, as if calling my name.
Most people, like zombies, slide one shirt, then the next, then the next, then the next, then the next across the metal rack.
Not only is the noise annoying, but the process is a desperate one.
You should never be afraid of not finding something. If it's meant to be, you and that 1970s red leotard will find each other. And it will be a love that you wear well.
Trina Trice is the education reporter for the News Daily. Comments should be sent to firstname.lastname@example.org.