Rules of Thirfting : A Law of Averages

Thrift shopping, and living cheaply most of the time, is something of a game without rules. There are so many vagaries to contend with, and so much chance involved that the only "rule" that's true all the time is that anything can happen at any time. After a while, you learn to see the big picture as something of a law of averages.

The suit pictured above is my own most recent acquisition. Very dressy, perhaps even a whiff out of character for me, but until now I had never seen a double breasted three piece suit in the flesh. It's like a unicorn, the stuff of legend, seen only in black and white movies. Rendered in heavy but soft nailhead flannel and replete with 1930s details, made custom for someone in the mid-90s in New York by Alan Flusser, at $100, I simply couldn't resist. 

The suit will need a bit of alterations, but there's no hurry since it's a winter cloth. The alterations it does need are a little unusual though. The trousers and vest fit perfectly, and the sleeves are just the right length, which is good as it has surgeon cuffs (working buttonholes). The odd thing is that despite the trouser waist being just right, the jacket waist needs to come in, and despite the inseam and sleeves being just right, the coat needs to be shortened by a half an inch or so. The waist is an easy, common alteration, but shortening the coat will take some work and cost some money. It's not an alteration that is always possible, as you run the risk of spoiling the coats proportions, but in this case, the buttons and pockets are set in such a way that half an inch will work. The coat has side vents which are cut deep enough to take the loss of length, and because the coat is double breasted, it has corners at the front rather than the curved edges found on a single breasted coat, making this task a little easier to accomplish.

So here's how this law of averages works. While $100 may be an incredible deal for a suit of this calibre, it is well more than what I usually pay for a second hand suit. The alterations will likely cost about $100 as well. By comparison as I write this I am wearing another thrifted suit that cost $40 and needed no alterations, and my favorite all purpose navy blazer was less than $10. You simply can't expect any kind of consistency in pricing any  more than you can expect to find a specific thing on a specific day. When taken as part of an average the cost of all my clothes, this suit is cheaper even in a sense than what I paid for it. Besides, thrift shop long enough and $200 all in becomes an expensive guilty splurge on a spectacular suit, when most other people are ready to spend as much on diffusion line "Chaps Ralph Lauren" suit, or something similarly lackluster, at a place like Kohl's. Besides, there's adventure and chance involved in thrift shopping, which for the professional cheapskate is more than half the fun. And the smarmy feeling of self satisfaction that comes with knowing that you got one over on that guy who bought his cheap suit at Kohl's is kind of priceless.

The Prodigal Son

I've written before about the perseverance involved in successful thrift shopping. Often, suits will be separated into their constituent parts and priced individually, but a pro-level thrift shopper (cheapskate) knows how to find the orphaned components and attempt to reunite them with their missing family. Not long ago, I brought together a three piece suit, from three different racks. Many other times I managed to put coat and trousers back together. Once, I completed a suit by finding the two pieces more than a week apart from one another. But the suit above marks a new level of thrift serendipity, even for a seasoned and perhaps even jaded cheapskate such as your humble author.

Last weekend, a regular consigner brought in the jacket pictured above, with the caveat that he knows I don't want orphaned suit coats, but this one is from Brooks Brothers, and maybe this one could exist as an odd jacket. My initial reaction was to answer with a resounding "no", but then he showed me the coat. Almost immediately, something occurred to me. I went to the trousers in my shop, and brought out a pair in the matching cloth, also Brooks Brothers, and in a waist size and inseam consistent with the size of the coat. Thing is, I've had these trousers in my possession for nearly two years. A new one, even for me.

Divine intervention? A prodigal son returns.

p.s. This suit, plus a number of other great new items, now available in the Shop. Check it out.

Rules of Thrifting : Consider Context (house and home edition)

Only the other day, while out hunting for clothes, I came across this fine set of dining room furniture, circa mid 1960s, in a local thrift. A nicely sized table with two extension leaves and six cane back chairs, two with arms, in dirty but good shape. Asking price was $250, but after pointing out a nick or two here and there, I managed to get them down to $200. I figured the seat cushion fabric might be whiff ugly,  but nothing I could't easily fix via DIY tactics.

Then I got it home, and waxed it up with a little Old English with a drop of dark brown stain, and suddenly, in my dining room, with it's rusty orange walls and clean wood floor, those seat cushions didn't look so bad. In fact, they looked pretty damn good.

Few things are as important to remember as context if you want to thrift shop successfully. There are no end of good things out there, but the will often be crammed in amongst a bunch of junk under unflattering fluorescent lighting. They might be in need of cleaning or slight repair. You have to train your eye to see a little past what is right in front of you to what you're actually getting. It's all about context.

Rules of Thrifting: 1, 2, and 3

Pictured above is a three piece suit in cavalry twill, the most recent addition to my own Affordable Wardrobe. Heavy cloth like cavalry twill my not be the very thing we want to talk about this time of year, perhaps most especially on the heels of my last post about seersucker suits, but it bears discussion here as this suit goes to illustrate not one but three of the basics tenets of successful thrift shopping. Before we delve too deeply into that, let's have a closer look at the suit itself:

For those that may not know, cavalry twill is heavy wool cloth with a pronounced diagonal weave (twill), usually seen in shades of tan, brown, or olive. As with so many things in menswear, it's origins are military. As one might guess from its name, this hard wearing cloth was first developed for the British cavalry, hence it's frequent use in colors that also derive from the military. Think of it as the big cousin to khaki chino, also a military twill fabric. As such, it's traditionally what we might call a "country cloth", most at home with wool ties and thick brogued shoes. This suit is an excellent example of the cloth, just as thick and heavy as you please, in a classic color comprised of a combination of tan and grey threads woven together. Welted edges and seams are an appropriate detail.

Dating from the 70s, but by no means dated. The lapels and pocket flaps veer just this side of wide, but the only tough detail is the wide belt loops and waistband. Fortunately, there is no flare to the trouser legs, which are cut in a fairly classic manner.

Louis Boston is a well known high end shop. These days dealing mainly in the more expensive Italian lines (Zegna, Brioni, Kiton, etc.), in the 60s through the 80s they also ran "The Bekeley Shop". a store-in-store that dealt in more traditional Anglo-American clothing.

As I said, this suit clearly illustrates three of the most basic principles of successful thrift shopping. The first point is the easiest to state: buy it when you find it. Here in Boston, it's only just gotten warm, if not hot, outside. After escaping the grip of an especially long a cold Winter followed by a relatively chilly and grey Spring, we're all more than happy to reject the heavy stuff in favor or madras and seersucker. But it just so happens that I found this suit yesterday, and it would be foolish to leave it behind simply because it will be months before I get to wear it. Conversely, I bought my best madras jacket in the middle of that very same long, cold Winter.

Secondly, this suit is the result of hard core thrift perseverance.  I managed to reunite all three pieces from separately around the store. I found the jacket first, and was about to take a pass. A few minutes later, the vest turned up elsewhere in the store, and I realized the jacket wasn't just a jacket, but part of a suit. I took those two pieces to the pants section, where I then found the pants. I took the time to put them all together on one hanger, and paid suit price rather than three separate prices for each, though even at that it would have been crazy cheap. This cost me $14.99.

Thirdly, it speaks to the fact that thrift shopping takes vision. This suit is from the 1970s, but really the only "bad" 70s detail here is the wide waistband and belt loops. Truthfully, this isn't much of a problem anyway, since the suit is cut right and the pants are high enough that the entire waistband is covered by the vest, as it should be. Still, I plan to put in brace buttons and remove the belt loops, perhaps even have my tailor build buckle side tabs, thereby removing the only offending detail.

You see, being a full blast professional cheapskate is not as easy as simply rolling into the first thrift store you see with a dollar in your pocket. You have to know what you're doing. It takes vision, patience, and a lot of effort. Luck has only so much to do with it.

Rules of Thrifting : Pay a Higher Price (sometimes)

Spring is here, officially on the calendar and kinda-sorta in the weather. With it's arrival comes my switch from Bay Rhum, my preferred aftershave in the colder months, to Royall Lyme. With its bright, clean scent redolent of fresh citrus, I find it to just the thing on a warm sunny day as opposed to the warming Winter spice of Bay Rhum. My last bottle was dwindling, and with only a few days worth left in it I needed to restock. 

Thrift, cheapness, and even common sense would have me go to the internet to seek out the best price from among a number of purveyors, but instead I chose to get dressed and take the subway to Harvard Square to purchase a bottle from the Andover Shop. Best price I could find online was about $30 for a four ounce bottle. At the Andover Shop, I paid $42.50. So why would I, your humble arbiter of the ways of the dashing cheapskate, effectively waste $12.50 so needlessly? Have I gone mad? Is this the end?

Truthfully, I have a very sound reason for the occasional wasteful purchase such as this. If you've read this blog at all, you probably know that I am loathe to pay not only full retail but anything even remotely approaching it, for almost anything. As such, over the years I have developed a number of strategies and tips to share with you all on how the better things can be had for pennies on the dollar.  It takes hard work and perseverance, but its worth it if you're crazy enough to think it is. Still, once in a while, it's nice to just walk in and buy something, and what's the point of all this hard nosed cheapness if you can't treat yourself on a minor extravagance sometimes?

Besides, it's not just a new bottle of aftershave I got that day last week when I bought this. I dressed in the morning and took the subway to Harvard Square, these days something of a treat in itself. I walked its historic brick sidewalks and visited the infamous Charlie Davidson at the Andover Shop. I spent a while marveling at the pile of gorgeous fabrics in one corner, than gained some inspiration for the coming Summer by looking through their newly arrived collection. I got to effectively sit at the master's feet for a bit as he handed down sartorial wisdom from on high, as he is wont to do, and even had a chuckle at one of his famously bawdy remarks, rattled off as though any normal person would say such a thing in mixed company. 

You might say I paid $30 for the aftershave and $12.50 for atmosphere, context, and inspiration. Thrift shopping is something I will likely do for the rest of my life, even if I ever find myself in a fanatical position where it became unnecessary, a prospect which looks increasingly less likely the older I get. But if I don't occasionally at least visit the shops where the goods I like to buy hailed from originally, I lose some of what makes them valuable to me. True, I know these things are expensive at the start of their life cycle, but it's not just material and construction that makes them so. There is an undefinable meaning and essence imbued in these things, and you can feel it when you see them in their natural habitat. It may be that more than anything that makes them so desirable when I do find them for next to nothing amid a rack full of utter garbage. Indeed, it's that undefinable quality that drives to me to collect and wear these things at all in a life that requires simply that I be dressed, in anything. The extra $12.50 also buys perspective.

So, odd as it may seem, one of the rules of thrifting, perhaps one of the most important, is to go to a nice store and spend too much on something once in a while. As long as you don't make a habit of it, no one has to know.

p.s. apologies for the sparseness of posting here these last few weeks. I needed a break, but will return to more frequent posting soon.

p.p.s. S/S 2014 happening now in the online Shop, with more to come soon. Check it out.

Rules of Thirfting : Accept Heartbreak

Yesterday I found this pair of pants, 90% wool/10% cashmere, navy blue chalk stripe, with forward pleats, a high waist, and brace buttons. Made in Italy for Paul Stuart, the tag showed that they were the bottom half of a suit (obviously) in my size. It's no rare occurrence for a suit to become separated in a thrift shop, so I searched for the jacket in the sports coats with no luck. Determined, I hunted through the outerwear, still no luck. Undaunted, I rifled through both the ladies jackets and outerwear. I even put Mrs. G on the task. Still, nothing.

Once, I managed to reunite a suit from two different Salvation Army stores. I considered taking a gamble and buying the trousers in the hopes that the coat might turn up elsewhere. Silly I know, but I've been wanting a navy chalk striped suit ever since I was a kid. Amazingly, common sense prevailed and I left the trousers behind.

I awoke today with a nagging feeling that I was going to bring this garment back together, so first thing I traveled to the other store in search of the orphaned coat. No dice, but I did pick up a crazy red tweed jacket with bellows pockets and a half belted back (coming soon to the AAW Shop).  Like a man possessed, I again visited the first store in the hopes that the coat may have been put out later in the day after I left. On the drive over, I saw myself wearing the suit, with a collar pin, wool challis tie, and black lace ups. The trousers were still there, but not the coat. Reluctantly, I gave up.

This story serves to illustrate not one but three of the basic tenets of thrift shopping:

1) Persistence is the one thing that separates the men form the boys

2) In order to do this successfully, you have to be willing to accept an occasional heartbreak 

3) Only a crazy person would do this

p.s. You know I'll probably make another pass at this in both stores next week. Commit me.

Rules of Thrifting : Develop Your Eye

I recently posted two rare and wonderful items for sale on Ebay, and while I like to keep the commercial aspect of things to a minimum around here, the provenance of both of these items speaks to a very important rule of thrifting that bears discussion here. Anyone can look through the obvious stuff, but it takes a seasoned pro to find things were they really don't belong, and "an eye" for this sort of thing can only come with practice and experience.

Pictured above is vintage men's dressing gown made of heavy but butter soft wool, made in England by Welch Margetson and Sons for Dunhill of New York, likely 1940s. I found this garment hidden in a rack of women's overcoats. As I passed by the rack, something about the finish of the cuffs and the piping at the lapel caught my eye, so I stopped to look. That extra minute was all it took. I might not have looked through an entire rack of women's coats, but practice has trained my eye to rest on little details that might yield a surprise result. Conversely, a rack of men's sleepwear is likely to have mostly, if not all, cheap flannel pyjama bottoms from Target and Old Navy. I'd love to keep it, and wear it with silk pyjamas and velvet slippers, but fancy house clothes and I don't mix, since I'm likely to be washing dishes, doing laundry, or some other mundane and potentially dirty task in them. Still, I hope it finds a lovely home (auction info here).

Not too much later I found this vintage flannel rowing blazer. I saw this hanging at the end of a rack of business suits in the women's department of another store. It's buttons had been replaced with some awful fake jewel buttons, and the sleeves had been "altered" by having the cuffs turned up and under about two inches and badly stitched on the inside. I took out the stitches, steamed the cuffs and sewed on some gold buttons I had laying around, which is what this jacket should have in the first place. I'm sad to see this one go, but I'm about two inches short for it and I don't think I'll be spending much time on a boat, or near one, any time soon. (auction info here).

I'm not suggesting that there's no organization in thrift shops, and certainly some are better than others, but it tends to be the more unusual garments, the ones with details that most normal people would assume are effeminate these days, that might wind up in the ladies clothes. The robe may look masculine enough in the photos I took, but its set in a very masculine context. The piping on the rowing blazer is not something common in menswear anymore, except in the most rarefied circles, and many of those folks aren't haunting the thrift shops. By the same token, brightly colored bits of silk may seem to most people like a women's accessory, but I find most of pocket squares in bins full of ladies scarves. For that matter, women's jacket styled like menswear often mix with the men's clothing in these places too.

The point here is to keep an open mind, and do what you can to develop a sharp eye for detail and imaginative shopping techniques. Sometimes the best garments are hidden in plain sight if you only just look for them.

Rules of Thrifting : Cosmetic Surgery

There are a lot of tricks to thrift shopping well, and though I may have a tendency to repeat myself here from time to time, it's simply because these things can't be overstated. One of them is that it is essential to develop an eye for potential, to know what can and can't be repaired or altered, and to see past a bit of additional time and trouble that may be involved to see a final outcome down the road. It's not that different from understanding that a new suit is best worn altered and not straight off the hanger the day you buy it. Following is an extreme case in point.

On a recent trip to the thrift shop, I found an excellent old Chesterfield coat, very heavyweight, the kind of cloth you don't see too often anymore. It was, of course, shoved into a rack brimming with mostly crappy parkas and ugly, dated overcoats from the late 80s and early 90s. Single breasted with peaked lapels, and clearly quite old from a distance, it was of such better quality than the things surrounding it that it was practically glowing. 

Velvet piping at the cuffs and breast pocket, a detail I haven't encountered often. Clearly this is old, and likely worn over morning clothes (striped trousers, cutaway coat, top hat, etc.) by it's original owner. Fits me like a glove, so it looks like I'll be keeping this one, though I will more likely wear it over a grey or navy suit, on a very cold day. True, I do already have an excellent lighter weight Chesterfield, but how could I pass this up? What do you take me for, a sensible normal person?

Produced in a tailor shop in Boston, a long gone place I've never heard of until now. Internet homework turns up nothing about this shop, though it will point you to plenty of great footage of jazz pianist Oscar Peterson, also not a bad thing.

Made in 1935 no less. Now we've got something that has value as an antique as well as just a fine piece of clothing. 

$10, as-is. If a thrift shop is marking goods "as-is" look them over carefully. Chances are there's something majorly wrong. This is charity after all, not ebay. "As-is" means different things in different settings. So what's wrong with this coat?

One button has been badly replaced, but I actually found the missing original button in one of the pockets. No, that ain;t it.

The velvet collar is completely destroyed. Not just worn, fully wrecked. Things like this are a deal breaker for most people, which really is too bad. I'll go to a fabric store and get a piece of good velvet, take it to my tailor, and have him replace the whole collar. Purely cosmetic surgery. Even after I pay him, I'll have a stunning garment for less than $50. What new coat can you get for that? Besides, I'll have rescued an antique thing from the garbage dump, and effectively restored it for many years continued use, an act I find rewarding in itself. The way this coat is made, it's likely I'll wear it through it's 100th Winter, and that's kind of priceless.

Look for part two of this post in a couple of weeks when it comes home from the hospital.

p.s. If you're looking for a Chesterfield coat and are a 38 regular, I have another excellent one made by H. Huntsman and Sons of Savile Row.currently listed on ebay. Auction ends Friday 3 January.