WHAT THE WORLD thought seven years ago to be “The Seattle Scene Look” was really just a thrown-together assortment of anti-fashions, usually obtained at thrift stores. Its aesthetic of comfort and unprettiness was the direct opposite of the “designer grunge” look the world would later blame Seattle for, even though it really came entirely from New York (and which pretty much killed off the Generra/Unionbay “sportswear look,” which actually did come from Seattle).
Back during the previous decade and the start of this one, the lowly thrift store was considered the absolute coolest shopping site by the punk elites, as well as by many other smart young adults.
A whole subculture formed around the ideas of outfitting one’s life for very little money, of surrounding oneself with beautiful goods tossed out by our planned-obsolescence society, and of collecting and preserving assorted cultural detrius (which could be good or hideous, timeless or incredibly passe, just as long as it wasn’t bland or dull).
And, as with any young-adult subcultural activity, it had its own zine–Thrift Score, edited in Pittsburgh by “Al Hoff, Girl Reporter.”
It’s been almost a year since Hoff issued TS #13. While both the print zine and the TS website promise new issues eventually, the bulk of issue #13 was devoted to a thorough dissection about “The State of the Thrift Union.”
It ain’t a pretty picture (not even a paint-by-numbers one on velvet).
Among the reasons Hoff cites for the thrifting lifestyle’s decline and fall:
- Stores going upscale. Yes, even the supposed last stands of affordability have succumbed to the retail industry’s obsession with servicing only affluent customers. Stores have been moved out of inner cities and into accessible-only-by-car suburban sites, complete with all the standard mall-type amenities (even cappucino cafes, natch). They’re setting up collectibles boutiques, charging “price guide” prices for everything from lunch boxes to Atari cartridges, and marking up the prices of even stuff only an in-it-for-the-love thrifter would even want. And some are even running their own collectible-oriented websites.
- Collector-speculation mania. From old Levi’s being shipped to Japan, to Beanie Babies (and even Happy Meal toys!) children will never be allowed to play with (‘cuz that’d make it no longer “mint”), greedy and ambitious would-be zillionaires are plunking down big bucks to grab up anything anybody says will become saleable to some other fool for even more money.
- Net-auction madness. Before Ebay, did anyone think day-trading in Yogi Bear memorabilia could become a potential full-time, work-at-home business?
- The death of the thrift-store stigma. The NY Times lately reported on the launch of a new magazine about thrifting–not by or for anybody like Hoff or her readers, but for wild-oat-sowing trust fund babies. Its launch party was a swellegant-people-only affair at one of Manhattan’s poshest discos.
Hoff’s call to action in that issue was largely a boycott cry: “Don’t buy stuff at inflated prices. If it sits unsold, a thrift may re-evaluate its price.”
Since then, Hoff has largely moved on to other freelance topics, such as NASCAR auto racing.
She now says concerning her thoughts about thrifting back in TS #13, “I reckon, most of that still holds true. if anything, it’s more so. I’ve sort of given up thinking about the topic. I mean, it’ll just drive me mad, and I promised everybody I’d look on the bright side.”
TOMORROW: Words about pictures.
ELSEWHERE:
