My Favorite Second-hand Store

Every now and then I like to go shopping at the DI. It's a great way to kill an hour in the afternoon. My mother-in-law calls it "the thrill of a deal"--but really, it's the hope that I might come across something old and charming. And since the treasures are tucked in a lot of junk, I like to have a plan; otherwise I end up browsing through aisles of tole painted wooden baskets and ratty wreaths tied together with raffia feeling defeated.

I always start with the wedding dresses. I don't ever plan on buying one, but it's fun to look at the foaming monstrosities that brides wore in the eighties--the heavy beading with faux pearls, the leg-o-mutton sleeves, and the sweetheart necklines with cut-outs. Every now and then I find a yellowed polyester dress from the sixties--they're unmistakeable. And they always make me wonder who wore them. Did they end up at the DI because someone's grandmother died?

Next I check the fabric bins. These have been sadly lacking lately, but once I found a couple of yards of the most remarkable vintage fabric-- a cotton print covered with little red deer and berry bushes. At first glance it looks like a Christmas fabric from the fifties--the kind that would have draped a festive table, but it's really too strange for Christmas. I have never figured out what to make with it. No pattern or project has been worthy of it yet. I wonder who bought it originally, and what was she going to make? An apron? Curtains? A funky Christmas tablecloth?

After the fabric bins, I check the craft aisle where there are vintage patterns galore and sometimes surprises--like the bag of thread that came with an old throat lozenge tin. Inside the tin were dozens of miniature buttons--Barbie doll-size buttons--in all colors. And if you can navigate your way through the patterns and avoid anything printed in the nineties, sometimes you come across something pretty in just the right size. You run the risk of the pattern being incomplete, but for fifty cents, who cares? I recently found two dress patterns for Abby--one was printed in 1970, the other one in 1981. When I got them home and pulled them out, they were in perfect condition--lovingly folded by responsible seamstresses back in time.

I save the books for last. I like to look at the novels of course and laugh at old-fashioned titles such as "A Woman Named Fancy" (which I did not buy). I also like browsing through the cookbooks because I once heard of someone coming across a first edition of Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking. But the real treasures are found in the craft book section where there are dozens of old craft books on embroidery and sewing.

That is where I found The Complete Book of Sewing. It was printed in 1972 and belonged to a woman named Johanna Knorr--who signed her name on the title page. It contains a lot of really useful information--especially about hand sewing techniques and stitches that are lost skills now. But what I really, really love are the pictures and captions--like the young woman and her boyfriend in matching plaid outfits and a caption that reads: "Who says plaid isn't romantic? Sew something for you and the man in your life."

But my favorite part of the book is the chapter about teaching your daughter how to sew. It begins with this heading:

This chapter is dedicated to all girls--those who love to make things, those who have talent and creative ideas, those who want fashion careers, and those who can't afford frills on their budgets.

The chapter then explains that a girl's first project--whether it's a bibbed skirt like the ones worn by Scandinavian milkmaids or a pair of kicky shorts--should be quick, easy, and done entirely without the mother's suggestions so that the young woman feels free and successful in her artistic expression.

I have never loved a two dollar book more.

So if you have an hour or two, go find something fun at the DI. You might find a pretty glass dish, a hardcover novel, a bag of buttons, or a cookbook about fondue. You might just be surprised at what can stir your imagination.