Mr. King would turn the new thrift store up the street into some sort of Needful Things novel, and he would undoubtedly do a much better job painting a word picture than I will, but I have to try anyway.
Last night I went to check out the new place, always in the market for cheap dress shirts for my Monkeys. When I walked in, the place just felt, well, weird. I kept thinking- weird…Weird. It was an older building, but recently had been refaced and painted white- everything inside was white- shiny, new, bright white. But it smelled old, musty and aged, like the pages of an old book. Like a thrift store. The contrast was, weird.
As I walked around, I was startled to see really old stuff. Things that in other thrift stores, you see marked Vintage, and marked way up. Clothes my grandmother wore when I was a small child, things I’ve seen in faded photographs from when my mother was young, caftans and hot pants and beaded cocktail gowns- seriously vintage stuff- at 1971 prices- $2 here, 50 cents for something else… Strange. And it was really old stuff- things you could put on e-Bay and get a fortune for. There were records, 45’s, comic books, all looking resonably new- but they were 30 or 40 years old. I found two “Light Bright” games from when I was a kid- still in the box, marked $2.00. I would have bought one, but where would I get the black paper? Strange.
Everything about the place was “out of time”- the music over the speakers was oldies- Jefferson Airplane, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Santana- I just kept shaking my head to try and clear the cobwebs.
There were plates and dishes from my grandma’s when I was young, there were baby clothes made of organza and obviously handmade. Little dresses, again handmade, smocked and immaculate, for $1.99. The fabric was old, but they were all clean and pressed. Weird. The books were old, like from the WWII era, and there was a lot of surplus-like stuff, but all from bygone times- like someone cleaned out storage lockers from 1955… Electro typewriters for $15, big, bonnet hairdryers for $5.00, and a desk lamp I almost bought that looked like something from Ed Harris’ desk in Apollo 13.
I kept walking around marveling at the strangeness. I picked up a dress shirt for Eric, and when I went to pay, the checker-girl was reading. She was reading “Go Ask Alice”. Out of place, out of time. Weird.