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Hilarious parody: When thrift is taken to excess

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Stop! Wait! I can still use that!


How do you know when it's time to throw something out? Holes can be spackled. Scratches can be polished or painted back to perfection. Dad's flannel shirts can be repurposed into art smocks or shredded and rewoven into rag roses for a gypsy handbag. And even that shiny gewgaw that doesn't seem so bright to you anymore – such as "

" – will still dazzle the un-jaded eye or the unbroken heart.




When I was a child, one of my most anticipated joys was to finally inherit and fill out that cherished dress or coat, the ones paraded around by older sisters as some definitive treasure to which I was otherwise excluded until I, well, matured. The Mousquetaire opera length gloves with pearl buttons and accent embroidery are an especially fond memory. Those, along with the imported Spanish lace mantilla, that subdued black and cream that cried Jackie Kennedy, found a place in my mother's keepsake drawer. That drawer, and eventually a dedicated closet, was strictly off limits, housing myriad items that eventually would have fit, but would have been woefully out of place as years passed.


But when I swiftly grew taller than any of my sisters, those coveted items wouldn't fit after all. Maybe that was a good thing, since Dad was no fan of orange velvet hot-pants and go-go boots à la





Not that I would have ventured into that kind of risqué wardrobe. But I did manage to purchase a few of my own edgy items after snagging my first job at the local emporium at age 16. And as ZZ-Top once regaled, "...she's got legs and knows," (or at least knew) "... how to use them!"


Thankfully, time passes. My mother-in-law wisely taught me very early on in my marriage, "If ifs and buts were candies and nuts, we'd all have a Merry Christmas." The lesson: enjoy and appreciate what you have, when you have it. Throw out or re-gift what you must when you feel you must and move on – for everyone's sake. Looking back can often make you stop enjoying what you've got right now. Trying to recapture youth often serves to make one look really old and more than a little foolish. And before you know it, just like firm skin, the present will be gone, too!


Vintage or recycled?


Recycling is hitting new heights and becoming big business.


Bloomberg's Mark Ellwood says "vintage" is booming. Even as I write, Gerard Maione and Seth Weisser, 20-year veterans of salvaged upscale clothing in New York City, are moving West. Why not? The National Association of Resale Professionals reports the resale industry rakes in $16 billion per year. And Maione and Weisser ventures are no pop-up stores, here today and gone in five minutes. It takes capital and confidence to build a 3,800 square foot used clothing store just off Rodeo Drive.


Recycled duds are now the latest and greatest must-haves for the likes of Rihanna and Amal Clooney. Granted, we're not talking that generic box of hand-me-downs to be found at the local St. Vincent De Paul outlet – you know, the useful stuff – but high-end goodies. WGACA (What Goes Around Comes Around) will be strictly dedicated to selling the exclusive and hard-to-find "luxury vintage": Chanel, Gucci, Louis Vuitton. The stiffest competition comes from Internet offerings, or so they say.


But before you head off to grandmas, Aunt Josie's, Uncle Claude's or whoever in your extended family or neighborhood once fancied him or herself the most "happening" clotheshorse, beware:


This could be you! It certainly would be me. The big business of reselling expensive clothes is still driven by the desire to be exclusive, unique, and to stand out. But don't be fooled. What makes a person stand out is that singular quality of personality and those cardinal virtues that are never out of style. Maybe that attic fodder is precisely that, and better left to the cobwebbed recesses of memory and, one day, blessed obscurity.


Can we recycle politicians?


Joanne Nosuchinsky and Katherine Timpftakes of Fox's "Greg Gutfeld Show" take Bernie Sanders and Hillary Clinton to Hollywood for a much-needed makeover. Which one would you pay to see?


Funny, how the ideas just keep milling around. Communism bad. Democratic Socialism – yeah, that's it – good. We'll just rename it. It's all in the pitch. And I'm your fairy godmother. Next!


Common Sense? What's that?


History repeats itself. We all know that. Times change, but people and instincts don't. How are today's messages supposed to impact tomorrow? What about messages that use intimidation to herd us into sheep-think? What about shaming so we respond the "right" way, not necessarily with what's right?


A niece once informed me the National Football League was sexist. The reason? They won't allow women to play in the NFL. It was hard not to chuckle. My niece was so insistent, so filled with indignant zeal – and frustrated that I just didn't understand. No! I was merely a product of repression and sexism. Ouch! My poor niece was being mentally abused! Mentally assaulted with manipulative messaging! Thank you, public school and a media awash in the ridiculous.


Needless to say, my niece, who has since been detoxed thanks to real life, received a strong dose of common sense. Why was it sexist to save the lives of women by keeping them off the field to parlay with Refrigerator Perry? Hmmm? Why is it sexist now to recognize the physiological realities of the very real and decidedly complimentary differences between men and women, keeping them off the Seal Team and Army Ranger units? Why?


Because we're told it is sexist. The "right" answer for the times, but not right. Not at all.


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