I’m lucky to live in New York, one of the fashion capitals of the world and home to some of the choicest thrift stores. But I don’t live in that cool part of New York you’re probably thinking of–I don’t live in the city. I live in a sleepy beach town on a barrier island, technically in the suburbs of New York City, technically part of Long Island. Don’t judge me – my town’s different from the Trump-supporting, un-ironic Juicy sweatsuit wearers that you’re probably imagining. Though we might be a little more bearable than other places nearby, there aren’t any thrift stores around, really. Not even a Salvo in sight.
And so, when I was on the hunt for the perfect pair of vintage Levi’s, I could have hopped on a train to BK or Manhattan, less than an hour away. But alas, I haven’t yet climbed the career rungs beyond the title of “Intern” and ya girl is BROKE. If you’re not familiar, I’ll have you know that the Long Island Railroad is ridiculously expensive, too. So when a vintage seller on Instagram requested to follow me, and I then quickly fell down the rabbit hole of browsing through the seemingly millions of other Insta-vintage shops, it was like my worn-in denim prayers had finally been answered. I didn’t have to schlep. I could swipe.