Secrets of Thrifting : The Olde Village Church

There's a lot of downright silly New England WASP sycophancy around men's clothing blogs, and I generally try to avoid it here. I've said so often that though many of the things I like may have been largely enjoyed by a certain narrow slice of East Coast society, I never found membership in any such group to be an exclusive requirement to anything. For one thing, as a good friend who is in fact from an old WASP family once said, more people had the values than had the money anyway. For another, we all dressed like this around Boston when I was a kid. Even immigrant Catholic mothers bought whale embroidered pants for their boys to wear on Easter Sunday, because, you know, that's what the stores were selling. However,

when you're on the coast of Maine, in a town full of old early Victorian houses with a small harbor full of sail boats, and the village church is an austere white clapboard building like this...

and that church is, of course, Protestant, and old, you know you're in good thrift shop territory, if you can find a thrift shop.

When that thrift shop is in fact run by the church and housed in the old colonial next door, you've hit what unwashed bottom feeders like me call The Jackpot.  A whiff, just a whiff, of that WASP sycophancy may be needed to make my point here.

Lots of people will offer the advice that when thrift shopping the best goods are to be found in affluent neighborhoods. While that's true, it only tells part of the tale. Besides finding an affluent neighborhood with a local charity, you need to find a neighborhood where the affluent people are buying the things that you want. For me, that means finding old Protestant neighborhoods like this one. I know that generations of men who have lived hear dressed in a typical East Coast way. I know that there will be lots of Brooks Brothers, J. Press, and things from small local shops in the same vein. Good old Yankee Thrift means not only that when the time comes to donate, it will go to the local Church, but also that the likely of finding rare older items will increase. I suppose the Rule Of Thrifting here is Always Shop at the old Church. Salvation Army, Goodwill, or Savers might have some good stuff the day you walk in...or not. The Church store run by kindly old ladies from the parish will have only good stuff. At least that's been my experience with these places.

This shop was bursting with it. After only half an hour, my arms were laden with more than I could carry to the counter. I say counter, but really it was an old desk set up in the foyer of this old house. One kindly old lady offered to let me look around the back room at the items not yet tagged for sale. Another half an hour, another weighty armload of stuff. As I dug deep into a plastic bin full of ties, another old lady offered me a brownie. Delicious.

As for the haul, I was giddy. Being as seasoned a thrift shopper as I am, I rarely get as big of a "thrill of the hunt" rush as this place gave me. I was giddy as I hauled an entire contractor bag of clothes over one shoulder to my car.  And that's just what I took in men's clothing. The books were great, because the same people that donate these good clothes also tend to read well. The housewares were terrific. And the fact that I was handing my money to a volunteer from a local church and that the whole thing was one giant act of recycling on everybody's part made the situation a win for everyone involved. That's something that no retail shop can give you.









Worth Every Penny : Lobster Roll

There are lots of good reasons to live on the Atlantic Coast in New England. Men get to wear silly pants and carry tote bags, and no one seems to care. Newness in anything is usually shunned, which is a boon to cheapskates like me who never really have anything new anyway. And then there's the seafood. I've spoken at length before of my love of the clam, be it raw, fried or in a thick chowder. But I have yet to expound on one of my our most famous and hardest to duplicate delicacies, the (high holy)  Lobster Roll. Given that I am in Maine, high holy mecca of the blessed crusatcean itself, I figured the time had come.

Friends from other places ask for advice on where to acquire a truly hedonistic Lobster Roll. Often, they tell tales of having had been disappointed by the offerings they've had in very fine dining establishments in other cities. Why, they wonder, is a Lobster Roll on the New England coast such an ethereal delight, while what by many measures may technically be considered "better" falls flat elsewhere?  True, our access to the finest and freshest lobsters on a near daily basis does of course contribute to this. But that's not the heart of the issue. The real key to a perfect Lobster Roll is simplicity. It's success lies in that particular combination of high decadence and cheapskate-to-the-bone Yankee thrift that make so much of New England culture captivating to those who weren't raised in it.

The meat should be fresh lobster claw and tail, cut up in big chunks. The dressing is a bit of mayonnaise, enough to hold it together, and nothing else. If you want to get fancy, a small amount of chopped celery is permissible, though by no means required. Anything else is not only unnecessary, but a minor sacrilege. The bread must be only a buttered and toasted cheap white hot dog bun. Anything else is not only unnecessary, but in fact a major sacrilege. No artisinal bread, no crusty rolls, no whole wheat anything, only a buttered toasted white hot dog bun. The combined facts of the mayo only dressing and the refusal of fancy bread are usually what make the non-New England overly gourmet version of this classic so lackluster. There is, after all, such a thing as trying too hard.

Accouterments include a pickle and potato chips, or sometimes French fries. Beer is the drink of choice, though ginger ale works well when alcohol is not allowed. China service should be only a cardboard tray and plastic fork, to pick up the precious bits that fall from the bun. The whole thing should be consumed under an umbrella at a picnic table in a place where the views looks thus:

It won't be cheap, but it shouldn't be. The best part about all this homespun Yankee simplicity is that when you shell out the better part of a twenty dollar bill for a proper Lobster Roll, you can rest assured that it is the precious lobster meat, and its skilled preparation that you pay for, not the white table cloth and pretentious atmosphere. A properly prepared and properly served real New England Lobster Roll is worth every penny.

Special thanks to the Lobster Dock of Boothbay Harbor, Maine, for serving one of the best examples of this simple but perfect treat that I've had yet.

Patience is a Virtue

Three years ago, in the earlier days of this blog, I felt compelled to post every day. When I had nothing to write about, I'd put up a silly haiku (remember those?) like this.

Just last week I found these:

$4.99 at an undisclosed thrift shop. No brand name, but quality construction, likely from Berle or Hertling or some such respectable manufacturer who does work for all the fine men's shops we swoon over.

Patience is a virtue. Please have some patience when I finally don these silly things...and you know that I will.

p.s. new stuff in the Shop.