The Bins

a second-hand story

I raised my kids on used clothes. Used everything, really. Shoes, furniture, jewelry and art. Plates, bowls and glasses. Toys, bikes and surfboards. When my kids were just tots, I would wheel them down to the local thrift stores in the double stroller and let them run around and pick out new-to-them clothes and toys.

Barbies who lacked an extremity or two found a comfortable place to live out the rest of their years in our home. We once found a Ken with a 80’s “tail” hairstyle. All his hair was painted on the mold of his head in typical Ken style. The tail however was “real” Barbie hair. My girls could not figure it out. But why? they asked as they tried to pull the tail out with their little chubby fingers. Mommy doesn’t know why, I told them. But whhhyyy? they asked again. Because the 80’s were ugly, I said.

To this day, we have a tall bookshelf designated to children’s books all purchased at thrift and used book stores. It’s a beautiful collection of several hundred books (if not more.) We remember every one- from the classics to the not-so-classics. They learned to read to themselves from the precious Little Bear series and continued on through 6th grade with Harry Potter and Percy Jackson.

Thrifting has pretty much stayed a norm in our family. There were a few years when the girls wanted new clothes from Tilly’s and Vans and we obliged. But those days came and went quickly and we were right back to the thrift stores. Most of our furniture has been found second-hand. It still works fine and looks plenty good. People get rid of things long before they even look used! Recently I found a nearly new down-filled Crate and Barrel lounge chair and ottoman for 25 bucks at a garage sale- just around the corner from my house! It’s something I never would have purchased new, but I feel rich having found it. My kids friends say our house is “aesthetic.” I’m pretty sure it’s a compliment.

Over the years in our community “thifting” has become more and more popular. One of the cool things to do now is go down South to what we call “The Bins.” This is a place where un-purchased thrift store items go before they die. One last chance to be someone’s treasure. It’s huge warehouse space filled with long lines of huge plastic bins on wheels. Inside these bins are mass amounts of clothing that never sold in the thrift stores- though I have a sneaking suspicion that some of it never even hit the racks as some of the finds are pretty astonishing.

My girls and I went yesterday and had a blast. The times I’d been before it wasn’t too crowded but yesterday it was absolutely packed with people. Every so often 20 or so freshly packed bins would be rolled out from the back all covered up with sheets. "Stand behind the red line” the workers shout out until the sheets are removed from the tops of bins, then it’s game on.

It’s astonishing what people do then! Digging around frantically (and somewhat violently) as if there were a winning lottery ticket buried somewhere. I watched as a young man stuck his arm shoulder-deep into a bin and pulled out a green Patagonia jacket as if he were doing a magic act. The jacket looked in good shape. I felt a little envious.

I did pretty good though, got some great stuff (a Billabong sweater in perfect condition for example) but I only find my finds by luck, not by force. I don’t dig around like my life depends on it. I just use my index finder and thumb to gingerly pick through, usually with my nose scrunched up and my torso leaning backwards a bit as though something might jump out at me. Truth is, I’m always a bit scared I’ll come across some underwear (it happens.) We had planned to bring plastic gloves but forgot.

At one point I found a new-looking blue bra and yelled at top volume to one of my kids who was about four bins away “HEY! OLIVIA! DO YOU WANT THIS BLUE BRA??” I waved the bra overhead for her to see. “YA!” she yelled back- also at top volume. Nowhere else would this be acceptable while shopping for clothes. At the bins however, it’s perfectly fine.

Hand sanitizer is our friend and sits in huge bottles up at the front where you pay. Price is by the pound. A HUGE bag of clothing filled with all our goods was $23.

On the way to the car, sure- we were suffering a bit from allergies, sneezing and struggling to walk with our overfilled bag. It’s all part of it, baby! Get home. Wash everything in super hot water with extra detergent and you’re good to go with a shitload of new clothes.

And all I’ve just shared…here’s why. The waste on this planet is astonishing and the age of fast fashion isn’t helping. I stopped yesterday for a moment and stared at the bins in awe of all those discarded clothes. I wondered what would happen to all that was left once it had been picked though? Where would it go? At least, I thought, it had been given second and third chances. That was far more than most waste gets.

My girls were raised on thrifting (and they have the coolest outfits to prove it.) It’s something that is a part of them and will be for the rest of their lives. Down in the trenches of the bins, laughing at the scary or bizarre things we find and high-fiving when a score is made, sometimes we have so much fun we forget we’re making a difference, we forget we’re doing something good for the planet.

If you’re scared, you’re scared. But toughen up a little. Have a little fun. After all, we’re all human. There’s plenty of sanitizer. And these are only clothes looking for a home.