late night shopping
The saturday night just been was spent with inlaws in broken hill. The previous saturday night was spent with Nat out in Newtown. I said I wanted a night spent in the inner city, mixing in with all the other people of King Street, talking over a beer or noodles, not needing to go or be anywhere else, because all the colour and sound is in the city. She took me past other backstreet pubs I've not yet seen, and we ate at the cheapest thai we could find. Her dog accompanied us, waited patiently outside Vinnies, as we shopped and shopped for half price op shop tops. I thought of uni days, and how it frustrated me that come Saturday night I'd have nothing to wear. Bottle shops and video shops were retailing, why couldn't clothes? Wasn't it a perfect retail combination?
I love op shopping. My immediate reaction however was one of panic. It is such a big big store, in fact I only discovered the second wing on this, my third or fourth visit to the premises. The panic comes from fear that there might be just the perfect little outfit, some quaint or bohemian or cool preppy piece of clothing, that you won't be able to discover. Unlike upmarket full price brand new clothing, which is catalogued and arranged and editorialised in magazines, the op shop is a random and eclectic collection of chaos. There are vague categories of tops and dresses, but no colour coding, often no sizing organisation and new pieces get stacked on top of old pieces, burying them to the floor.
I felt weary initially, could only stand to look at one rack before I gave up for the book shelves. Some seventies feminist London-set literature later and I was ready to return to clothes. It might have also been the music that revved me up, all Madonna songs from Desperately Seeking Susan era, and both me and the male sales assistant hummed along quietly. I looked for white pants for capeiro dance classes (for Nat) and dresses (for me). I bought a top that I couldn't even be bothered trying on and which I had deep doubts would fit properly. I found my another striped tshirt for my collection (I think at least one hundred striped tshirts have passed through my wardrobe already) and persuaded the sales assistant to let me swap it for my first purchased top... and then Nat put her gaggles of clothes ON HOLD, so we could go eat.
We returned, after our meal and we and the dog were locked into the store for the last minute shopping (it was 10pm). It was just another case of an enjoyable Newtown night out.
I love op shopping. My immediate reaction however was one of panic. It is such a big big store, in fact I only discovered the second wing on this, my third or fourth visit to the premises. The panic comes from fear that there might be just the perfect little outfit, some quaint or bohemian or cool preppy piece of clothing, that you won't be able to discover. Unlike upmarket full price brand new clothing, which is catalogued and arranged and editorialised in magazines, the op shop is a random and eclectic collection of chaos. There are vague categories of tops and dresses, but no colour coding, often no sizing organisation and new pieces get stacked on top of old pieces, burying them to the floor.
I felt weary initially, could only stand to look at one rack before I gave up for the book shelves. Some seventies feminist London-set literature later and I was ready to return to clothes. It might have also been the music that revved me up, all Madonna songs from Desperately Seeking Susan era, and both me and the male sales assistant hummed along quietly. I looked for white pants for capeiro dance classes (for Nat) and dresses (for me). I bought a top that I couldn't even be bothered trying on and which I had deep doubts would fit properly. I found my another striped tshirt for my collection (I think at least one hundred striped tshirts have passed through my wardrobe already) and persuaded the sales assistant to let me swap it for my first purchased top... and then Nat put her gaggles of clothes ON HOLD, so we could go eat.
We returned, after our meal and we and the dog were locked into the store for the last minute shopping (it was 10pm). It was just another case of an enjoyable Newtown night out.
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