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I don’t know what I was thinking opening a vintage clothing shop on Etsy. I have noooooo time to maintain such a thing.

If you want any of those clothes, let me know because they are still taking up space in my house and I need them gonzo. Or if you know a bunch of people with good taste and too many clothes of their own, let’s have a clothing swap!

RIP Rare Bird.  You were exciting for a week or so, but it turns out I prefer buying to selling.

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Big Business

All right, so I didn’t wake up Monday morning intending to maybe kind-of-sort-of start another business-ish venture. But it happened.

Some back story…

I’ve been wearing second-hand stuff for as long as I’ve been around. It happens when you have boatloads of older siblings and cousins and it happens extra hard when you were a teenager in the 90s.

Point is I’ve known a lot of really amazing vintage clothing in my day. And I’ve had to say goodbye to my fair share of pieces as well – pieces that I:

– Loved, but no longer wore.

– Never wore though I thought I would.

– Bought despite the dress being 10 sizes too big or small because I thought I would learn to sew.

– Bought despite the pants being 10 sizes too big or small because I thought I would take them to a tailor.

– Bought despite the shirt being 10 sizes too big or small because I couldn’t handle the thought of walking away from such a sweet score even if I would never be able to use it for anything other than a tent.

And as much as it gladdens (If “sadden” can be a word I don’t see why “gladden” can’t) me to imagine that someone will snag my own former finds at Value Village, or Goodwill, or Sally Ann, and thrill to such a sweet kill in the second-hand clothing hunt, it’s hard to say goodbye. How does one say goodbye? Forever? To things one has had longer than some friends?

Goodbye dear outfits! It’s not that I don’t love you anymore. It’s just that, for whatever reason, I feel we’ve run our course. I can’t explain it. Don’t let me cheapen things with words. Let me just say thank you for the good times. To you, tight bellbottoms, for that St. Patrick’s Day when the paremedic hit on me. To you, repurposed skirt, for covering my rear as I trekked across Europe. To you, legions of baseball T’s, for being sporty and sexy through thick and thin. To you, printed polyester buttondowns, for making me feel that much closer to Siamese Dream-era Billy Corgan. And to you tie-dyed sundress…I…I think I’ll miss you most of all.

I wish I could be there with you when you go for good, to ensure that the thrifter who finds you loves you as well as I did. I wish I could adopt you out like a Cabbage Patch doll, with papers and promises and certificates, but alas! This is not the way of things and we must be brave…

Or must we?

Rare Bird Vintage. Strut my stuff.

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