Written by Jessica Ardrey
On the table directly to my right sits a lamp. This lamp is the best lamp of all the lamps. Its base is a massive, pink seashell. Its shade is square, off-white and cross-hatched, and it has turquoise furry trim. It stands approximately 2 feet tall in all its glory.It is my new favorite thing.I have yet to mention, however, the best part about this lamp. It cost me five bucks. Total. Can I get 10 points to Gryffindor for the Barkin’ Barn on North Gum Street?This, ladies and gentlemen, is Harding life. We get super excited about the most random cheap stuff we find at the most random places. It’s what we do. We get a sense of pride about our accomplishments as pundits of penny-pinching.”Did you see what I found today? It’s a total treasure, bro,” says typical Harding John. He then proceeds to show off the gently used scuba flippers he snagged for two bucks at Goodwill.The whole floor has gathered to marvel at the gem. John holds them high for all to see, their highlighter hue met with “oohs” and “ahhs.” (I guess they made them that color so you’d be easy to spot, just in case you go deep-sea diving in a mud puddle.)Will John ever use those scuba flippers? Probably not. Will he end up wearing them to a mixer? More than likely. Would he have been an idiot NOT to buy them? Absolutely. They were two bucks. That’s a real steal.And that brings us to social clubs, the single biggest reason behind all the clothes we buy at thrift stores. Sometimes we just don’t have the makings of a costume in our closets for that superhero mixer. Sometimes you just have to purchase the finishing touch on your ensemble for that Lady Gaga function. That’s when we hit the consignments. Hard.The thing is, we don’t buy normal clothes at these places. While the people around us are looking for T-shirts and jeans, we’re buying velour, leopard print turtlenecks and leather vests with 6-inch fringe.Somewhere in the back of your mind, a voice tells you that you look ridiculous, that you should just walk away and that this is not socially acceptable. However, when a whole pledge class can look back and remember that their first memory of the club was you dressed as a Spice Girl, the world just makes sense.One of my most prized thrift possessions is a splendid piece of art hanging in the kitchen. It’s a sparkly engraving that captures the rays of the sun bursting around a unicorn rearing up with the pyramids in the background.Still, I’d be selling these fine establishments short if I gave the impression that everything we buy there is useless. I recently hit the mother lode of ceramics and walked away with an armful of old mugs that I wholly intend to utilize.You’re probably thinking, “Ew, Jess. That’s gross. Don’t you care that the probability that some nasty old man’s lips were once on that very mug is much higher than one would like to imagine?”Nope. All I care about is the fact that I have a mug with the outline of Nebraska and the state bird. Plus, a little Ajax and a scrub brush never hurt anybody. After a few minutes that Western Meadowlark will be singing a new tune.And all those ridiculous examples I mentioned throughout this column? I may or may not own every last one of them. And by “may or may not” I mean I most definitely have them in my possession.Except the scuba flippers. Those are still two bucks at Goodwill.JESS ARDREY serves as opinions editor for the Bison. She may be contacted atjardrey@harding.edu
