This week, faced with the prospect of a ‘clothes swap’ a friend was organizing, I decided to confront my problem with clothes. You see, I have a shopping disorder. I behave in a sensible and frugal fashion until I feel suitably deprived, which usually takes a little under a week, give or take. Most Saturdays, this deprivation, in conjunction with a hangover and the perpetual guy troubles, flips the switch that sends me into a self-pity fuelled shopping tailspin. One such weekend saw me slinking back up the stairs to my apartment, laden with bags knowing full well the inevitable embarrassment that waited for me upstairs in the form of my roommate-come-sensible-mother-figure, who would undoubtedly chastise me for being so frivolous, I had a reality check. I needed to look for a more rational way to clothe myself.
The clothes swap seemed to be just what the doctor ordered, minus the fact that it meant I actually had to give away my clothes. Crouched on the floor sifting through my garments, I just couldn’t bring myself to part with any of them. The crop tops that remains laughably unsuitable for this climate brought back romanticized memories of summer bonfires and heavenly vacations. Even my collection of oversized Pretenders t-shirts and bootleg jeans were just too entangled with my utopian teenage past that, in defeat, I decided to just try again next time.
With the failure of that plan, I decided to peruse some friperies as a study break. Aside from the sullen faced shop assistant shooting me judgmental glares for not being hipster enough (there was one in every place I went), I managed to find some gorgeous bits and pieces. Friperie St. Laurent, on the corner of St. Laurent and Duluth, was a little pricey, but I managed to pick up some kitschy coasters.
I ventured down to Eva B on lower St. Laurent, which I have always walked past and dismissed as a decidedly dubious-looking costume shop or haunted house. I entered with my preconceptions and was pleasantly surprised despite them. I was offered a tea and left to putter around. There was so much stuff. I was very much intrigued by the clothes pit, an intimidating pile of clothes which could only be tackled by removing one’s shoes and being launched in. While this was fun, as I was suspended in the massive heap of fabric, the paranoid part of my brain did start to remind me of the insects, fungus, and dust probably hidden within. That said, I still found a sweatshirt in there that I couldn’t be without.
I then visited Friperie Kilo, on St. Laurent and Pins, which had an equally unique premise: you buy clothes by weight. This friperie was very reasonably priced and is doing very great business since opening last year, making it well worth a look. The staff was friendly, and ready to help you sift through some of the more outrageous garments.
On my way back, plastic handles digging into my mittens, I felt content after my afternoon study break. I proudly displayed my newly-procured goods to my roommates instead of covertly smuggling them into my room, something that I haven’t done in a while. Knowing that these pieces had memories attached to them just like my Pretenders t-shirts and knowing that I dug around in that clothes pit added another dimension of appreciation, which made me feel even more satisfied than my average shopping trip.
