By Susan Caba
The Resale Evangelista
Friends, I’ve been binge-thrifting. It’s a thrill, it’s an addiction, it’s a sickness. It’s recreation and entertainment. It’s my hobby — and I don’t feel (excessively) guilty.
And, oh, I do love the buzz — that blast of dopamine — when I come across an under-priced treasure. Think hand-pieced, hand-stitched sampler quilt for $14, a pristine BMW leather motorcycle jacket on half-price day at Family Thrift for $28, or the Bose stereo marked $48 but discounted, thanks to my senior citizen status, to $36.
I’ve been a thrift-store shopper for years. But lately, I can’t seem to pass a Goodwill, Salvation Army or Family Thrift store without involuntarily turning the steering wheel into the parking lot.
In the past, I had the excuse that I might be buying something I needed. That excuse was thin even when I was living in my own house or apartment. I still had more art than I could display and, at some points, stored excess “finds” that were too good to pass up in my basement or garage — and which I often passed along to the children of friends getting their first apartments. “Look in my garage,” I would say, when I heard of someone seeking a kitchen appliance or piece of furniture.
What’s different now is that I absolutely do not need another possession of any type. I gave up my apartment two years ago, to help my sister take care of our elderly mother. I’m literally living in my mother’s garage (which, with the addition of thrift-store finds, I’ve turned into an eclectically furnished space). And yet my thrifting has intensified.
I blame three factors.
- The Reels — TikTok-like videos on Facebook — in which professional thrifters brag about the bargains they find and flip on the internet for profit.
- My dear friend Lee, who (when I might have been spending $50 a week on thrift-store finds) agreed that I could consider thrifting a hobby, no more decadent than going to a movie and eating at restaurants.
- The 1996 Chrysler van I bought for $1,000 when my Subaru blew its engine. Rather than rent a vehicle while the Subaru was in intensive care, I acquired the van from my mechanic. Do you have any idea how much stuff a skilled packer can wedge into a van?
The final enticement — okay, rationalization — was Lee encouraging me to flip my finds for money, monetize my hobby, in today’s lingo. Those Reels were proof it could be done. “Stack that Cash,” is the motto of one reseller.
The idea of reselling isn’t new for me. When I lived across from Washington University in St. Louis, I used to dumpster dive when the students moved away in June, discarding everything from furniture to laundry detergent. I wasn’t the only one harvesting the alleys. A friend and I had an annual garage sale of the scavenged loot. Later I envisioned selling many of the bargains I thrifted, though I proved much better at the buying than the selling.
Lee urged me to be more pro-active in selling, to track my purchases and sales. She set me up with an Excel spreadsheet. Perversely, this had the effect of increasing my spending. Would I have bought the BMW motorcycle jacket if I didn’t realize I could resell it? Highly doubtful!
I’ve had some successes. The Bose stereo? Sold for $140. The quilt? Shipped to a lady in Indiana for $130. The motorcycle jacket? Presumably being worn by the Florida man who paid $130, plus shipping. I’ve made the most money, oddly, on items I purchased for $1. A Bernina sewing accessories cabinet that sold for $40; two Kate Spade china mugs for $35; a vintage Hawaiian shirt for $39.95.
There have been mistakes made and lessons learned. I’ve overstocked my inventory of Disney plush animals, Star Wars-related items, and too-cute children’s clothing, not to mention vintage Vans skate shoes. Both the Chrysler and my artfully furnished garage/living space now resemble the lairs of hoarders and the homeless. It’s time for a clutter-busting blowout sale. Either that, or a trip to the nearest Goodwill with some return donations!
In the meantime, thrifting is still fun and irresistible. Just the other day, I swung by the Family Thrift in Santa Barbara, intent on looking only for Pyrex lids and Starbucks travel mugs, both reliably popular resale items. Of course, I made the circuit of the whole store and walked out with two unexpected treasures — a 1980s IKEA Flower Power fruit tray and a delightful watercolor for $5.
I’ll be detailing my thrifting adventures and misadventures here at Resale Evangelista. But I may have to revise my tag line. Currently it’s “Simplifying, Clarifying and Creating an Artful Life.”
The new version? “I forage so you don’t have to.”
The Resale Evangelista is simplifying, clarifying and trying to live a more artful life. On the other hand, she’s scouring thrift stores to find hidden treasures.
Resale Evangelista 