When one is in the U.S., it is necessary to do the following:
1) Have a large number of drinks with old college buddies;
2) Drive around with the windows down singing loudly to catchy Top 40 hits;
3) Go thrifting. As much as possible.
In accordance with part #3, my mom and I spent yesterday morning garage sale-ing and the afternoon at various thrift stores, searching for treasure. She's an invaluable thrifting partner: where my eyes will sometimes glaze over after the umpteenth shelf of country-themed bric-a-brac, no vintage Pyrex bowl ever gets past her. While driving between garage sales, she also spent a little time schooling me in what should probably be called "garage sale poker face," as so to wheedle the best deal from the seller (it's not unlike bargaining in Beijing, I might add). It is probably best described as the opposite of walking up to a sale and exclaiming animatedly "Oh my god, look at that stool! Is that Lucite?! Ahhh!!" Which, novice that I am, is something I did during our outing.
I've got a lot to learn apparently. But can you blame me? I mean, really:
I was very happy to pay the full price of $2.
Vintage boots! In my (very large) size! Never worn! $1.
(I very nearly had a heart attack when finding these.)
Vintage magazine holder, $3.43:
60s tablecloth, $2:
And an Eva Zeisel teapot, lidless and slightly chipped but amazing nonetheless, $1.49:
This – and much more – was all in the first two days. Tomorrow: Target!