It's been a minute since I've contributed to the Minimalist weekly topics, and when I saw the latest question, I saw my chance to jump in. I've always said Romania has a bit of an icky relationship with thrift stores, in the sense that they fall into two categories: either dirt-cheap and quite poor quality, or high-end fancy stuff. I was ambling through the city centre a few days ago, and came across an area particularly heavy on the "vintage" vibe. The stores looked great, and the clothing was pretty high quality, but they also carried price tags to match. You could easily find products like that at the mall, and much as I love pre-loved goods, asking someone to pay as much (or even more in some cases) for used items as they would new ones seems shoddy.
Besides, donating to second hand stores is a pain. A family friend tried donating some stuff recently as she was clearing house (high quality stuff, she's not the sort who skimps, particularly on clothes). And they flat-out said no. There's all sorts of rules like the clothing item having its tags intact. Some won't even take worn stuff, which seems to defeat the point, doesn't it? Obviously the stuff I buy in a second hand shop are going to be worn. That's what I expect going in. Then, there's the negotiating.
There's a scene in Life of Brian where a street vendor offers Brian a gourd for free, then gets into an argument about what the gourd is worth. Yes, he gave it for free, but he needs Brian to agree it's worth more. It's funny, as ever, because it's true, and I've noticed a lot of people get annoyed when trying to give to thrift stores, which pay them tiny sums. Oddly, we're fine leaving the clothes for someone for free, but if you're gonna pay us something for them, it better reflect true value.
So to answer this week's question, I don't donate to thrift stores, no. I do leave clothes I no longer need outside in bags for people who may need them. It's a long standing tradition in my country, and the bags never linger for very long. I "donated" a bunch of clothes thus when I was moving house earlier this year. I even dumped a couple of bags after I'd moved simply because I didn't know where to put them in the new wardrobe.
I like it, personally. It's a system that works. I like knowing that someone might get a use out of them, and really, what better way of doing a good deed than leaving them outside on the street for free?
apparently no pictures with the stuff I threw out, but here's an idea I discovered in Sicily and absolutely loved. Take a book. Read it. Leave it anywhere for someone new to find.
We also threw out a lot of books (mostly for kids) during the move, along with old toys and things. And I remember my brother and I coming outside with more bags, and intercepting a man who was looking through what we'd already left. He was very nice, we talked to him for quite a bit, and he asked why not give them to a second hand bookstore, as we might make a bit of money. We knew from the same family friend that that was more trouble than it was worth, as well. The people from the store would ravage through the books, leaving behind a mess and taking up hours, which frankly isn't worth the fairly small sum they'd pay you back.
I love looking through books that have been dumped out on the street corner myself. Can't resist it. So why not contribute to this tradition?
The hardest thing to part with, for me, is old shirts. Cute, girly shirts my mom got me when I was like 10-13. I'd come across these, and even though I hadn't worn them in years, refuse to part with them. I always remembered the joy she got out of the gift, out of the cuteness, and ended up shoving them to the back of the closet, to await yet another deep clean.
Took me a bit to realize that the memories themselves weren't in the shirts, but in my head, and I couldn't throw that out much as I wished to sometimes. So many of the shirts went. Not all. My favorite homewear is still oversize men shirts from when I was about 14 and edgy. Stained, faded, old. But I'm more comfortable in them than in all the fancy Pjs you could throw at me.
I think it's always a struggle to part with the things that brought a smile, 'cause you think you're parting with the smile, too. Except no one can take that.
This is in response to the latest MINIMALIST prompt.
