Clothing capital

Four years ago, this jacket screamed to me in the store window at Anthropologie. I stopped and turned to the ladies I was with and said, "That is my jacket." I ran in the store and unseen forces led me directly to it. I tried the jacket on and bought it. I might have called Ryan, my brand new husband, somewhere in between, but that was only to inform him that I was making a great investment. No no could talk me out of getting it.

Since then I have quit a job, obtained a new job, graduated from college, retired for a few years, moved across the country, had a baby and spent almost two years as a mom. And I still don the jacket frequently. I have never worn an item of clothing so many times. There are permanent wrinkles at the elbows and I have replaced almost every button, but it is in pretty good shape for the battles I put it through.

Every few months I clean my closet out and throw out as many clothes as I possibly can so I can whine to Ryan, "I have noooo clothes. I HAVE to go shopping." I'm pretty good at ridding my life of old clothes. But I think I might just keep this jacket until it screams at one of my daughters or granddaughters.

Until then I'm looking for a new investment. Some Christian Louboutin pumps maybe? Ryan?

"It's vintage!"

Ever since the momentous Saturday morning when I found some $2 leather merlot-colored boots at a yard sale in my neighborhood, I can't seem to leave the local thrift stores alone.

Several times a month I drive to the Goodwill, maneuver the door handle with my sleeve, brave the old-lady's-closet smell and sift through stuff that other people have discarded. I have books, toys, clothing and furniture all thanks to thrift stores and people who dump their junk on the side of the road.

So why the obsession with used goods? The price (or lack thereof) likely has something to do with it. I guess I also like to think that my inner Project Runway fanatic loves to create something new and chic from something old. And the Rachel Zoe in me craves the feeling I get when someone begs to know where I got that fabulous skirt and I get to tell them, "It's vintage."