burnt toast life

a bargain hunter’s paradise

I don’t know about you guys, but I get serious anxiety whenever I’m bargain hunting. Not that this is any different than my normal state of existence, but it kicks into high gear whenever I’m within ten miles of a yard sale or a TJ Maxx.

Here are the problems:

1) I hate to feel like I’m missing out on something,
2) I always imagine someone else scoring an item that’s perfect for me,

and

3) I always feel like I’m arriving too late and missed all the good shit.

Despite these truths, I absolutely love clearance shopping. I have no qualms about digging through racks and bins to uncover amazing finds. In fact, the more buried the treasure, the more value I attribute to that particular item. One of my favorite treasure hunting spots is Ross Dress for Less. It’s the kind of place that makes you feel dirty the minute you walk in. It’s like the Walmart of off-price retailers in terms of clientele and cleanliness. But the bargains? Unbeatable. They have the same housewares as TJ Maxx and Marshalls but so, so much cheaper. Those places can be kind of expensive, even for discount store standards. For home goods, I go to Ross. For clothing, yes, Marshalls and TJ Maxx are better. (I swear, I’m not getting paid to say any of this, even if it’s starting to sound that way).

The Far Hills Rummage Sale (if you click on the link, understand that these pics do not do it justice) has been described to me as “a place where super rich people discard unwanted Vera Wang sheaths and Louboutin pumps that are so last season.” For those of you not familiar with the area, Far Hills is a New Jersey suburb of Manhattan where most residents are very well off. Common sense dictates that a yard sale in an expensive development tends to yield better finds than a yard sale in a trailer park. No kidding. So my mom and I finally hit up the Far Hills Rich Person Castoff Sale for the first time in October.

map of so much good stuff!

map of so much good stuff!

The whole thing is overwhelming, but in a good way. There are tents set up by category and people line up outside, so you’re never really fighting for elbow room as you’re digging through the racks. They literally have everything. EVERYTHING. I read in one article that there were 25,000 plush toys, 2,500 vinyl records, 2,000 pairs of women’s shoes and 50,000 books. Not hard to believe – just when you think you’re done looking, there’s more to see. At the October event, I made a beeline for the Boutique tent (clearly) and scored a bunch of adorable dresses that could have come straight off a rack at Nordstrom. Many of them still had tags on them. No, I did not find Louboutins, but I did spy a few pairs of Coach sandals and plenty of other respectable brands (rumor has it that the Manolos are gone before you can blink). The best part? The system is streamlined so that you just pay one price for each type of item. So all shirts, regardless of condition or designer, are $5. All high-end designer dresses (think Cynthia Steffe, Alice + Olivia, French Connection, Laundry, etc.) are $25. Yes, you read that correctly. $25. With tags. Hallelujah.

Admittedly, this season’s haul was a bit less impressive than last fall’s. The sale goes on for three days, and the diehards all line up first thing Friday morning (which is when mama bear and I went in October). This year we skipped the Friday crowd and went on a Saturday, so the Boutique tent had fewer amah-zing frocks.

We did find a whole bunch of random things, including one thing I’ve been trying to talk myself into buying for ages now… an under-the-desk elliptical machine. These babies go for about $100 on Amazon, so I hadn’t pulled the trigger just yet. But at the Rummage Sale? $15. I could not be more excited. I’m the girl who swapped her desk chair for a giant fitness ball months ago, but it’s not as effective as I’d hoped. This elliptical thing is perfect. Bring on the buns of steel.

Oh, and since I’ve made it through five paragraphs without mentioning baby drama, I’ll mention now that I did suck it up and peruse the maternity section (because, you know, I’m insane). It was oddly disappointing. I’m talking one small rack of totally random, ugly clothes with a preggo chick huffing and puffing her way through it, lamenting that she had “Four more weeks to go. Just four more weeks to go.” You’d think maternity wear, the single biggest category of castoffs, would be a gold mine. But alas, no. At least I didn’t have to obsess over it.

under the desk elliptical!

under the desk elliptical!

We shop at Target

Dear Marie Claire magazine,

Hi, I’m sorry, I am your audience. At least I thought I was. But month after month I go through the same cycle of emotion when you show up amongst my pile of bills. It starts with excitement (Fall fashion!) and ends with depression ($900 boots?). Along the way there are pit stops at outrage, confusion, envy, lust, hopefulness and resignation.

You know the women in your magazine? I don’t know these women. For once I’m not complaining about impossibly skinny models with airbrushed faces. I actually do know plenty of slender ladies with gorgeous skin. No, I speak instead of your “respondents” to various polls in various articles. The women who have questionable job titles, are 24 years old, and who cannot live without $1200 studded belts and $200 face cream. To some extent, I understand – magazines are not about reality, they are about fantasy. They set themselves as a fashion compass and we can choose to follow to the extent that we are able. It’s sort of like runway vs. the real world – no, you won’t be wearing the 8-inch spiked heels, but you might spring for the 4-inch. But still. I read each issue cover to cover and finish feeling anxious, overstimulated and woefully left behind. Sometimes I do wonder if my peers are lounging out in their mid-century modern lofts admiring their newest Birkin. But I also find it hard to believe.

Here in suburbia I can pinpoint where my friend’s new cardigan came from because I have the same one in teal. We didn’t get them at Bendels; we got them at Old Navy. We shop the Target clearance rack like its a second job. Our shoes are from Macy’s, but sometimes they’re from DSW or if we’re really lucky, they’re from Target clearance. Did I mention we like Target? Our face cream comes from Walgreens, but on payday it comes from Sephora. It almost never comes from Neiman’s.

No offense to those who do, but I don’t live in West Virginia. I can (and do) drive to NYC in under two hours. While I don’t live in the most happening metro area, it’s not quite east of nowhere. I have a few friends who live and work in the city. They shop at Target. We also like Marshalls and Forever 21 and when we’re feeling edgy, we really love H&M. At Target we scoop us $13 sundresses and $8 tank tops and $10 braided flat sandals. We compare notes and compete and try to figure out who paid the least. We walk down the back of the aisles for end cap sales, because everyone knows that walking down the center of the aisle is pointless.

That’s not to say we don’t splurge. I used to work for a luxury handbag retailer, and you’d be hard pressed to find a bag in my closet worth less than $200 – but remember I bought them all for half price with my discount. I couldn’t help but notice that in this month’s “Look Luxe for Less” feature, you offered a $998 Tommy Hilfiger coat as the cheaper alternative that would help to keep you from “straining your wallet.” Seriously? Our splurges are $168 dresses from White House Black Market. I own exactly one $300 Theory blazer (it was a gift) that I’m almost frightened to wear. And yes, $998 would most certainly be a strain for my wallet.

So what do we want? A little perspective, maybe. It’s like in the HBO series Girls, the one where the characters are real. They’re real and they’re likeable and they’re messed up and they probably shop at Target. It’s so easy to relate. We watched Sex & the City when it was cool (before it was a movie) and we loved it but we also scratched our heads and wondered if these women really existed. Someone finally figured it out – real women with budgets are out there, not with closets full of Manolos, but with mortgages and student loan debt and half priced gift cards to Applebees. This is your audience.

So about that Chanel watch – I won’t be calling to inquire for the “price upon request.” I’ll be at Target. Thanks, though.