With every downtrodden time, there is a better told story.

Yes, the word ‘economy’ has been beaten black and blue.  I believe debt is not as theoretical as it used to be and trust of invisible numbers finally reflects it’s invisible nature.

But I know nothing of serious economics or Fox news, so enough of that.

All I know is that I’ve been thrifty since the day I was born, and suddenly- it’s OK.

My mother can turn anything into something.  In the 10th grade I made an ambitious teapot with a sculpted hand cradling the front part of the vessel, the fingers molding around the curve and accentuating the spout. It was nothing special, and was even less special when it blew apart in the kiln.  I brought it home in defeat. My mother used (and still uses) the mutilated hand and fingers to separate her mail.

She can make home-made playdough and wrap a gift with newspaper so well that you almost forget to be embarrassed. She can make a one dish meal from left over mashed potatoes and tuna, and can find 20 different ways to utilize 50lbs of powdered milk bought out of fear during the hurricane season.

As a young child, I didn’t fully respect the genius in which my mother operated.  I wanted to go to sea camp and space camp like the other kids, get a new dress whenever I saw one and eat out at a restaurant. But, the wanting of material things quickly led me to earning my own money and developing a strong work ethic. I didn’t work because of a noble cause- I worked because I wanted the freedom to OWN things.

TjMaxx was my first true love and where I first exercised that ownership.  I would even gladly bike the 2 miles there (1 mile of which was a steep ‘pedal standing up’ bridge) before I could drive. And when I eventually did turn 16, I dropped my first real job application off at TjMaxx the next day. For those who don’t know, TjMaxx (owned by the TJX corporation which also owns Marshalls, Winners, HomeGoods, TKMaxx, AJWright, and HomeSense) offers name brand goods at a greatly reduced price due to over buying and manufacturing elsewhere.  The amalgamation of goods can make it a difficult place to shop, but completely worth it if you have the patience.  Their clearance section can be a goldmine.

I then took it one step further.  Thrift stores.  There’s a stigma that is doing a round about.  No highschooler 5 years ago who feared social suicide would march proudly into their clique and proclaim, “This dress:  from the thrift store off 54th.”  Now, the elite of Hollywood strut the red carpet claiming, “This dress:  designer vintage from the ‘Sassy’ boutique.” Really, it’s the same venue.

Vintage.  The greatest, current marketing term (with huge profits) if you ask me.  Etsy.com and Ebay, along with numerous other private online vendors and physical small plants are reselling thriftstore goods under ‘vintage’ terms of pricing.  Forget that.  If you know your stuff, have an eye, and are willing to do some dirty work, then there is no need for the middle man.  Google your nearest Goodwill, church thriftstore, or monitor the weekend garage sales and you’ll soon discover the thrill of thrifting.

Church bazaars are the best.  All profits go to a good cause (also like goodwill and salvation army) and you can be a fashion connoisseur and antique dealer in one swoop. I even dare to consider my hunts a recreational past time.  I’m also pretty sure I  caught an advertisement on TV a month ago pursuing the green/environmental call with ‘Buy vintage- it’s 100% green.’

I found a Bergdorf Goodman silk dress from the 60s/70s (polo style;  ideal belted)  for 6$, 2 weeks ago.  A week before that, I found a set of Haviland plates, teacups, etc with gold trim for 1$ a piece.  A week before that, a Dana Buchman silk cardigan for 8$ (pretty pricey for a thrift store actually).  These are only recent finds with average prices.  If you want the long blazer look to rock with a skinny pencil skirt/ tucked in blouse- then go thrifting!  The 60-80s produced a lot of fabulously constructed blazers that can put a great twist on the modern work force attire. Just take out the shoulder pads.  I don’t care that the runway recently reclaimed the infamous shoulder pad- most women CANNOT wear that look.  Don’t fall for it.  Really-would you wear half of what you see on the runway. Notice the lack of a question mark.

The point of all this:  top name brands, the elite of the fashion world, the 1,000$ purse- they all took a hit this past year.  But I swear- TjMaxx’s have never been more crowded. Suddenly, vintage is hip and thrift stores are the venue. After you score your first find, you’ll feel the thrill race through you everytime you see a sign saying ‘garage sale this saturday’ or ‘church bazaar doors open at 9am.’  If you’re there by 8:55am, then you know the thrill of thrifting.

Here’s some more photos that I dug up- found them stumbling around in my thesis folder.

My family adopted 2 cats when I was 7.  They were (we think) about 3 years old when we got them, but no one knows for sure (you know, misplaced birth certificates). They were ‘twins’, with pure white fur and green eyes.  We lost the hyper, skinny one last year to an undiagnosed thyroid issue.  The chubby one is still alive though, and since I’m 22, she must be at least 18 years old.

This isn’t exactly a flattering picture of them, but oddly enough- it’s the only digital one I have.  Their beauty shots were done all on film.

Now, our family basically had these cats our whole lives.  We were all very sad to lose Sisie last year.  Poor Rosie, she had a mirror image of herself (minus the weight issue) all her life, and suddenly she was alone. My parents told me that she cried for months after Sisie was gone.  And if you’ve never heard a cat cry, it’s heartbreaking  (see article about how a cat cry is much like a babies cry in order to demand attention).

When my parents went on vacation a few months ago, they dropped Rosie off with my oldest sister.  It was supposed to be a temporary stay, but my sister quickly realized that the cat loved being at her apartment, and was ready to fully adopt her.  Which she did.  Until Rosie started boycotting her litter box (except for tinkling) and developed a flea issue. So, when my parents came back into town, the cat was returned.

You have to understand that you can’t judge my mother for what I’m about to tell.  Everytime I say ‘parents’, what I really mean is my mother.  She’s the one who cleaned the litterbox every day, fed them, bathed them, combed them (relentlessly) and worked hard to keep our house cat-hair free since well, turns out my brother and I are allergic to cats.

So, when I say she decided to give Rosie away, you shouldn’t judge.

But don’t worry- it never happened.

She tried. Our neighbors daughter recently lost a cat, and was discussing her loss.  My mother overheard and shared her burden of getting Rosie back.  The women offered to take Rosie, gladly- but asked how old she was.  My mother (fibbed, maybe) and said 16.  The woman wisely explained that 16 was a bit old and that she wasn’t ready to lose another cat so soon.

My older sister immediately learned of this incident since she visited that same weekend. While my mother and older sister were in the grocery store, my little sister called my mom.  Something you have to know is that my little sister LOVES all animals.  Her dream job is to be a dolphin trainer and she once balled her eyes out when (peeking out her window one morning) she watched out neighbor shoot a squirrel with a bbgun.  She was particularly close to our cats, so my mother wasn’t about to tell her how she tried to give away Rosie.  She went a different route, and discussed how my older sister should have kept the cat, how she was happier there. My older sister wasn’t about to take any sort of blame.

“Tell her the truth!  Go ahead.”

My mom pushed the grocery cart at her and punched her in the arm, for dramatic effect of course.

She reluctantly explained to Tasha her reasoning for getting rid of the cat, how it would be happier with someone who really wanted it, etc- but my sister just cried and cried in between begging her not to give the cat away.  Soon, the news was all over the family grapevine.

I reasoned with my Mom using this route:  “How would you like it if we gave you away when you’re 90.”

My brother used a more sophisticated approach: “You see, if you give her away now, after all those years, it will be like she’s dead to us, so therefore she will just ‘die’ that much sooner.  So you can’t give her away.”  (I only heard the drastically paraphrased version from my mother, and she did note that his point took a half hour to make, so I most likely greatly insulted his argument but that’s okay- you get the point.)

In the end, the deal was that my ‘parents’ will keep Rosie (hopefully alive, too) until my little sister graduates from college in two years.  Rosie may be a little overweight, mean as all heck (when living with my older sister and her 90lb dog, Rosie made it a habit to slap both sister and dog ), but she’s still part of our family, and you don’t get rid of family, not even if they’re 18 yrs old.

Cemetery Hit and Run

Disclaimer:  No illegal activity actually occurred and no persons were injured.

Grandmother:  “I was in my nightgown, hanging the laundry outside when I realized that I locked myself out. What could I do? Grampy was already down at the sand pit, so I called over to my sister in law (also neighbor) to help.  She ended up using her ladder to climb in through the sliding glass door on the second floor.  She let me in, and that was that.  But, I was flustered so I decided to go for my morning walk down at the Cemetery.

I parked my car by the side as always, and started my two laps.  Well, half way into my first lap a host of cars drive through, and it appears as if a funeral is about to begin.  And I recognize some of the people in the party.  I don’t want to disturb anyone or be seen so I hurry back to my car.  I quickly jumped in, put it in reverse, and ‘thud.’  I got out of the car and ran to the back— You wouldn’t believe it.  I ran over a grave stone.

I didn’t know what to do.  I couldn’t just leave the grave stone knocked over like that. And I couldn’t hail someone from the funeral.  I was so upset.  Luckily, two men who work at the cemetery saw me and came over to help. They explained how that particular gravestone get’s knocked over all the time, since it’s at the corner of the lot.  They pushed it right back up and all was right again.

My grandmother’s CD collection for her car:

1.  The Lion King Soundtrack

2.  Dolly Parton’s Greatest Hits

3.  Christmas Carols

4.  Native American Drumming

5.  …And a Cd to represent every other nationality.

I’m serious.  My grandmother has the most anti-discriminatory music collection.  She genuinely appreciates music from all cultures.  Well, except this blue grass, folksy CD she accidently bought.  But beyond that, she loves the cuban beats, spanish fiestas, and the native american heartbeat. I think I’ll give her a CD that represents the eastern half of the hemisphere for Christmas.  I give her credit though. She discovered all of these music flavors on her own, and not many people have such faith.  It takes a musical recommendation or pop culture to help us know what sort of music we’ll like- but not my grandmother.  She just dives in, and truly listens.

The trouble with digital v. film photography is that lack of restraints.  Yes, my shiny, black digital SLR- you make things too easy.

As you can see from online host like flicker, facebook, etc- our lives are becoming inundated with photographs. Everything is documented and secured within a 3mb space per file.  No right minded college female goes anywhere without her little point and shoot, and I swear we spend more time taking pictures on vacations that we forget to be there in the moment.  We don’t see the pyramid, the ocean, the sunset- we see the photograph that we MUST take.

I digress.  My point is that with film, you had a single roll with an average of 30 exposures (aka pictures). You paid x amount for that film. You also paid x amount to get that film developed (processed) and printed.  You felt the money slipping from your hand with every shot you took.  It forced you to value and calculate each time you snapped a shot. And that’s just 35mm film- imagine the care taken to produce a 8×10 negative with a view camera (Ansel Adams style).  If you spent two hours setting up your equipment, calculating light, etc- then it usually produced results in your shots.

Now we have digital SLRs that can shoot over 12 fps (frames per second) and memory cards that can hold over 8GB. We might as well take a movie and collect the still frames.

But again, I digress (my, what a pretensious phrase). My point is that when you do a photo shoot, and you have over 1,000 frames (pictures), then it can be a tough job to weed the good from the bad. It’s hard to know what you’re truly looking at when you were shooting spontaneously.  Using the ‘law of large numbers’ (see family guy joke with monkeys typing shakespeare)  is a cheap way to produce art- yet when you’re under contract for a shoot and have to please a client, then by all means, anything goes.

Still not to my point (true blog style, I know).  My POINT is that after you sift through your hundreds of frames, and pull your best, then pull your best from your best- you still probably don’t have your best. Go back to that same batch of photos a month later, and I bet you’ll find a gem you didn’t see the first time.

It’s because you’re not always seeing the photo when you take it.  The thought of execution was only part realized, and sometimes you get lucky. Other’s are more obvious- you know what you were going for (the preconcieved image in your head) and you find the file that matches those desires.  But, when you go back through your files a month later, those are when the subtle beauties jump out.  I call it the ‘lost and found’.

I did a photo shoot last christmas break for a contest.  Not only did I not win, but I totally mis-understood the rules. Whoops. At least I was proud of some of the gorgeous frames of my sister.  Today I came across the folder with the original files and decided to put this method of ‘Lost and Found’ to the test and viola!  I found IT.  And there was a close second.

Now, these aren’t of the obvious glamour but personally, I think they give a lot more than the frames I orginally chose. The first one was flattened by the direct flash, and the second her hair is a mess- and this is what obviously stopped me from ‘chosing’ them in the first time.  But now that I lost sight of my preconcieved notion of how I wanted the shoot to go, I can see the beauty in these.  Lost once.  Found now.

Proof that, I am indeed, a computer Jinx.  It all started in Kindergarten…

Kindergarten computer class (1992-ish).  The dawn of a new era. Black and green screens packed into a temporary trailer, parked on the edge of the playground.  Oversized headphones.  New to school, shy young girl.

I actually protested computer class.  Something happened when I put on my headphones, logged on, and started my assignment. All the other kids loved it. They would click away with smiling faces, quickly moving between educational levels,  two plus two equaled a jumping, pixelated frog.  I hated it.

I would panic, start to sweat, have a 5 year old version of a heart attack. I was a good student though.  Breezed through all my (other) assignments and kept to myself.  The teacher noticed me crying in front of my computer on the first day and quickly surrendered.  She didn’t force me to get past my fear, or whatever it was that was paralyzing me.  Instead, she let me log on and off the computer for the 30 minutes a day that we had computer time. She would even sit right by me and grade papers, so I wouldn’t have to be alone.  I was so relieved.  And I got really good at typing my name.  Crisis averted.

Middle school:  Eventually computers entered everyone’s lives and I got over my fear.  We had a technology class in middle school which required that we be on the computer learning software for at least half the class.   I was fine with this, but the computer was not.  Almost everyday, from day 1 of that class, my computer crashed. Died. Shut down or froze. And it’s not like I had the same computer everyday. We rotated.  I was reprimanded- the teacher assumed it was something I was doing for no one else had this problem.  I promised I was doing nothing- clicking at the right pace, only going where I was supposed to go- so to settle matters she decided to monitor me.  She saw the truth.  I was doing nothing wrong.  A look of fear covered her face as she kicked me out of the computer portion of her class.  I was forced to do nothing but the book work part.  I was okay with that.

College:  My first personal computer. I used an entire local scholarship to purchase my Toshiba laptop. I was so excited.  I don’t think that POS worked right for day 1.  My uncle ended up giving me his old apple laptop that had to be taped together in some areas, but it worked swimmingly compared to my new, shiny (blue) toshiba.

Sophomore Year:  My Grandparents, Aunt  and Uncle helped buy me a new Apple, mac book pro. A dream machine.  Never had I beheld such beauty. My Uncle wisely suggested we buy the extended apple care warranty. Since then, I have had nearly every part replaced on my computer.  And I have not been negligent- I am very careful with expensive goods.  We’re talking the logic board to power cord to the part that burns CDs.  Lesson learned:  always buy apple care.

Junior Year:  As Photo editor and future editor in chief of the yearbook, I was responsible for our office and computer goods.  We designed our book using a 2 year old Mac G5 tower, with a 20 something inch screen. It was nice. Until is crashed.  And crashed again.  And Again. We sent it to a certified apple technician.  They couldn’t figure it out.  So apple sent their own technician out.  Three different times.  No one could figure it out.  Or they would ‘fix’ it, but it would last 1 whole whopping day.  Apple finally gave up and sent us a new G5.  Problem solved.

Just to top this all off, I noticed that my Mac book pro has these black marks below the keyboard, where my palms rest when I type.  They have been expanding and spreading since the 1 year mark.  I did a little research, and it turns out (apparently) that some people have highly acidic sweat that corrodes/pits metals, like titanium. And by some people, I mean, less than 1%.

So really, all this evidence could be chalked up to the unreliable nature of computers and all complex machinery- but I say jinx. My father always believed I was cursed on some level, and plus- everyone loves a good conspiracy theory.  But ps:  never let me near your computer if you know what’s good for it.

My Grandmother is the funniest person I know.

Grandmother: “Nunzio!  I need you to fix the bathroom sink.”

Grandfather:  “I’ll do it tomorrow Marie.”

Grandmother:  “That’s what you always say!  Your to-do list is so long, I could fill up 5 toilet paper rolls with it. (dramatically unfurls invisible roll).”

To this day I can’t look at toilet paper without thinking about all the things I need to do.

Grandmother:  “You wouldn’t believe what happened to me on Halloween.  I got a knock at the door and there was this kid in a horrible costume, with a scream mask, I think it’s called. Well, I went to give them some candy  from my bucket and the kid tried to grab the entire thing from my hand!  Well, I said no way is this kid going to bully me so I fought back, and started hitting them on the head, to get them to let go.  I was so mad.  As I was beating them I hear them say,’Marie, STOP!  It’s just me!’  It was my neighbor playing a joke. ”

Grandmother:  “I was on my way out the door when I looked down and found this awful snake on my door mat. I must have startled it for it went under the mat, but I could still see it’s tail.  Ugh.   So I called your Grandfather and told him to come home right away, to get rid of it. He said he was on his way.  I waited.  Ten minutes.  Twenty minutes.  I couldn’t wait any longer so I did what I had to.  I opened the door and the tail was still there, just sticking out.  So I jumped.  I jumped up and down on that mat until the tail didn’t move any more.  I left it for Nunzio to move when he got back”

 

… The ironic part about that last story is that my Father accidently killed a mouse the same way.  He tried to shoot it with a bb-gun but the little guy ran right at him, startled him, and he landed right on top of it.  Must be a family trait.

This is going to sound crazy, but I never clothes shop when I need something specific.  It too often forces you to compromise in both taste and money. The time crunch forces you to settle.  So, I shop under the “it’s a good deal and I’ll use it one day” motto.  Don’t be fooled, this is probably also the reason why Americans find themselves in debt, but it’s all about balance and self control. Easier said then done, I know.

So, I make it my job to scan the stores whenever I have time.  And by stores, I mean my stores. TjMaxx, Marshalls, Loehmanns, and the occasional mall host. I walk in with no restraints, and no expectations.  That’s usually when the magic happens.

Stores like TjMaxx can be tricky. It has a lot of bad mixed in with the good, and I do mean mixed. My first job in highschool was working for a TjMaxx and I know just how hard it is to un-mix all that chaos.  For  women’s apparel, your major sections are basically teen, adult, career, women (plus size), and dresses.  I, however, just go straight to the clearance.

Since I don’t need anything in particular, the clearance has a broad range of given items within a few rows.  And the more remote a TjMaxx (aka nestled in a small town in the middle of kansas v. boston), the better the buys.  Tj’s clearances based on time, and if no one recognizes the sheer brilliancy of a Ellie Tahari, midnight blue, silk tank with lace and velvet detailing (bought for 7$ about 3 years ago), then by golly- it was just meant for you.

I have now worn that shirt to death, for both major occasions and small.  This tank personifies many items bought under 10$ from Ralph Lauren dresses to Diane Von Furstenberg tops and Seven jeans. My favorite pair of shorts were  3.99$  DKNY’s from Ross, (close second being a recent purchase of theory checkered shorts from Tjs for 15$), and my favorite jeans (that I wish I could still fit in) 2.99$, also from Ross. When I bought these items, I had no need for another shirt or bottom, but eventually the old got old, and the new was already there.

I should note that this is a dangerous method.  It harvests the bad logic of buying things simply because they are a good deal (and boy have I been there, and you KNOW you have too) but if you can gain the upper hand, and really look at an item critically, then you can have the best for less.  Just because it was once 500$ down to 20$, doesn’t make it pretty or the right fit for you. Another negative is that you’re buying a trend that may become outdated earlier, but I strongly disagree with trends and think that if something truly looks good, then it will always look good. (Good) trends only brings things to light, and the fact that classic vintage always comes full circle is proof enough.

These thoughts spring from a little ‘christmas’ shopping that I started today.  I knew I wanted to get a funny graphic tee from Urban outfitters for a friend, and checked them out online.  Average price was 28$ per.  There’s an Urban in town so I thought I would check it for sales before proceeding. Results?  Found the exact t-shirt I wanted for 5$- turns out their having an inventory blow out.  Also didn’t hurt that their woman’s clearance was an additional 50% off for savings that would bring you under 10$ per item, and I love that 10$ line.

Christmas is over a month away and I’m definitely in the early bird special line, but that is the way towards savings. Here’s another bloggers thoughts on the off price retailers.  See their list of facts about the industry.

http://www.wellheeledblog.com/2009/09/03/interesting-facts-offprice-retailers-tj-maxx-marshalls-ross/

Happy frequent, (but not always purchasing) shopping!

-Teresa Marie

Other thoughts from the day:  Large purses should have either one strap, or magnets to connect the two while it’s perched- or should I say falling- off your shoulder!

Coming soon:  repurposing thrift store finds and thrift stores themselves!

So, this site is going to pretty much be a smorgasbord until further notice, and for that,  I apologize.  It is currently a place to view all the arts I may dabble in, a host for my resume (thanks dumpy economy), and a typical, self centered- my thoughts matter, sort of blog.  Hey, if you can’t beat them, join them.

If you like what you see, please feel free to contact me. I currently live in the Boston area and would love to be your photographer, painter, or maybe- just maybe- your seamstress.

Yours truly,

Teresa Marie