Feeling a bit blah? Plan an op shop mission. Photo: Social Enterprise.
“Would you like the receipt?”
“No thanks. Hide the evidence.”
This was the invariable reply of one of my best friends when we went on one of our famous binges.
Our vice wasn’t alcohol (although we might squeeze in a cheeky cocktail) or other drugs; it wasn’t gambling, or even designer handbags.
Our big blowouts involved taking out $100 in cash and hitting the op shops.
We had our routine down pat. We knew which ones were the best for books, clothes, decor, furniture.
We knew where you could score an absolute bargain and where you’d find a K-Mart shirt marked up to $25.
Some of my favourite clothes were rustled up on our op-shop missions – a factory seconds dress worth $300 new for $60, a Kathmandu feather-down puffer jacket for $20, a bright orange corduroy Billabong skirt for $10.
Some of my favourite bits and pieces around the house, too – a cute collection of ceramic pots for my cactus collection, a set of Pyrex baking dishes just like the ones granny had growing up, some egg-cups with Australian native birds on them for when I felt homesick.
If you’re tired of getting burned by Shein or Temu clothes that fall apart the moment you look at them, or if the highs of online shopping are followed by the lows of realising you’ve blown your bank balance, I cannot recommend a good old-fashioned op shop enough.
There are, however, some golden rules to follow if you want to maximise your experience.
First of all, you are now having a day out. You are op shopping. This is no five-minute Google, click and go straight to checkout mission. You have committed.
While it might seem inconvenient, this is actually a good thing.
Leaving the house, interacting with people, looking at stuff that’s not on a screen – all very good for mental health, and if you stick to op shops, much cheaper than therapy.
Second, make a plan with a friend.
You need someone to laugh with about the 12 different ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ signs piled in a heap.
Plus, different op shops have different donors and different customers. You want to attack a few of them.
Any good one will sort through their stuff so what’s there is clean, unbroken and in good working order. Beyond that, it’s down to luck.
You might get Shein, you might get Kookai. And if the price point is right and you were going to buy Shein anyway, who cares? You’re looking for things you like, not to win some kind of op shopping brand name bingo.
Third, don’t go with anything specific in mind.
If you want to find a bright-red Carla Zampatti pantsuit in a size eight (petite), you’re going to have a bad time.
If you want to find something that makes you feel like a million bucks to wear to your cousin’s wedding, your odds of success climb dramatically.
This leads me to the final and most important rule: the op shop provides.
This is your mantra. This is what you must believe, deep in your soul, for the op shop to deliver for you.
Repeat several times if you must, preferably in a low-lit room with some incense.
The op shop provides.
Plus, if it doesn’t, or if you get home and decide that actually you hate that puce sequinned minidress, you had a nice day out with a friend, giggled at some truly insane fashion choices, and donated money to charity – without breaking the bank. And you can always donate it back.
You can’t tell me doomscrolling and ‘add to cart’ beats that.
