Some thoughts on shopping

If there is one area where I differ from hard-line homesteaders, it's in shopping.  Not essentials/supplies shopping, but fun shopping. You see, I love to shop, and I will never pretend I don't or lie about it.

I grew up in urban Los Angeles during the 1960's era, back when Downtown was glamorous and shopping was an acceptable hobby for a young housewife with a daughter to clothe, which is what my mother was.  And so my mother took me shopping.  Shopping on Brand Blvd. in Glendale, where we hit everything from the big JC Penney store (which had an escalator in the center of it!) to the myriad of locally-owned clothing and shoe stores, where she bought most of what we wore.  

Mecca for Los Angeles shoppers -- Bullocks Downtown

Downtown Los Angeles was what my mother hit during what were called the "month end sales."  At the end of each calendar month, the BIG stores -- Macy's, Bullocks, etc., which had elevator operators and helpful salesladies strolling the floors in gorgeous ensembles -- put clothes on sale that would be expected to age off the floor soon, due to the changing seasons. Never mind that Los Angeles had zero seasons.  The fall and spring collections didn't care, and neither did we.

And then there was lunch, which always came after shopping.  If my mother was feeling rich, she splurged at one of the cafeterias in town -- Clifton's downtown, or The Hollander in Glendale.  If money was tight, it was a grilled cheese sandwich at the Woolworth's luncheonette, in back of the store. Then a bus ride home, toting our shopping bags.

Clifton's Cafeteria, Downtown Los Angeles

So my own memories of shopping are extremely pleasant ones, as you can probably tell. 

I do have another memory which greatly influenced my life today.  This one is of my grandfather and his employee Helen, who had a daughter about my own age.  One day we all took a little jaunt, after school, to what Helen called the "Specialty Shop."  On the racks were clothes my mother normally could never have afforded, but on this day I was allowed to bring home a couple of gorgeous wool jumpers and three sweaters.  

Because the Specialty Shop, you see, was an upscale thrift store.  And thus began my lifelong love affair with thrift store shopping.

And so, yesterday when I got the "shopping bug" I drove down into town, to the local Goodwill and did some browsing.  I found two summer blouses for three bucks each (I always shop off-season, as the selection tends to be more plentiful) and these three vases. Vases are 66 cents each at the Goodwill, and so these beauties cost me a grand total of $2.00.  And the fluted one to the far right is pure leaded crystal.

I love giving the gift of fresh cut flowers from my garden to coworkers when they have birthdays, and adding a nice vase makes the gift even more special.  So a small collection of 66-cent vases is in order here.

And it's only you and I who know the vases only cost 66 cents, so keep that on the QT, okay? And if anyone asks where my blouses were bought, I will just smile and tell them I got them at the Specialty Shop...where a girl who loves to shop can indulge herself without breaking the bank or her beloved homesteading rules about re-using and re-purposing as much as possible in this world.

If I had all the money in the world

I've begun to realize that, for me, frugality is in my DNA.  Maybe it's the combination of having a Scottish/Jewish ancestry (two groups stereotypically known for their thriftiness) or perhaps it is just having learned the value of a dollar from growing up lower middle-class.  Either way, the fact is, there is a lot of overpriced stuff in the world today, and I'm not buying it -- both metaphorically and literally.

I was in Chico's the other day, for instance, looking for a blouse/necklace/jeans combo I'd seen in one of their ads.  The ad appealed to me, in the way only good ads can do. "Yes, that is the look I've been searching for.  I must have it."

Not worth it.

So I popped over to the store and priced it out.  The blouse I had wanted was $75.  The jeans were the same.  The necklace was the lowest-priced of the lot, at $49.50.

"Get them, if you want them," Big Ag encouraged (God I love that man).  

But I just couldn't do it.  I just couldn't fork over the $200 American for that one outfit.

Later that week, I hit my other favorite boutiques -- the Goodwill here in town, Kohls, and the outlet store of Coldwater Creek Online.  At Goodwill I found two fitted, button-down shirts of the same style and fabric that the Chico's ones were, but for $4 each.  Kohl's was having a 75% off sale on jewelry, and I found a very similar necklace to the Chico's one, only mine was on sale for $16.  And I bought a pair of ankle jeans in the Coldwater Creek Outlet Store for $25.  The grand total?  About $50 bucks.  

And it all looks just as good, put together, as it did in the Chico's ad.

And so it goes.  We all have things we are willing to pay full price for, and things we refuse to pay the going rate to have. And so I made a little mental list of what I'd probably still bargain-basement hunt for, even if I won the lottery tomorrow and had millions of dollars at my disposal.

If I had all the money in the world, I would probably still shop the Goodwill, Kohl's and Coldwater Creek Outlet store. 

If I had all the money in the world, I would still probably only buy a car only once every 15-20 years or so. Cars last a long time if you take care of them.

If I had all the money in the world, I would still grow my own food, make my own soap, and bake my own bread.

Definitely worth it.

I would, however, pay $800 for a farmhouse sink I liked, buy a solar oven, and probably own more livestock than any sane person should.

We all have our weaknesses and the places we refuse to pay the market rate.  I know homesteaders who, literally, buy nothing new, but I've gotten more use and more pleasure out of my farmhouse sink than any person has a right to, and so, for me, the farmhouse sink was a luxury purchase I feel absolutely no guilt about.  

I guess the trick is to scrimp where you can and splurge where you feel it's necessary. I'm sure our great-grandparents had certain items -- farm equipment, animal housing, good quality shoes -- which they were willing to pay top dollar for (if they could afford to) and other things they would not.

Homesteading does not mean denying yourself everything the modern, material world offers, it just means thinking about the financial, ecological, and personal impact those purchases have, and choosing wisely what you'll pay for new, and what you can buy at a discount, make yourself, barter, or trade for.

Balance in everything, right?