‘THE THRILL OF THE CHASE’
Carly Gibbs meets savvy shoppers who are saving the planet while indulging in guilt-free retail therapy.
WITH A USED HANDBAG slung over her shoulder and wearing sensible walking shoes, the most op shops Lindsey Morgan has visited in a day is 17, with only a quick stop for a butter chicken pie and a takeaway tea.
Setting off on a planned route, she op shops once a week. Many op shop employees in Tauranga know her by name, and some set aside treasures they think she might like.
A member of Steampunk Tauranga and a hobbyist dressmaker, it’s usually fabric, lace, buttons, ribbons and trim this Matua mum is hunting for, but over the years she’s collected dictionaries, Poole pottery china and Egizia milk bottles, all in the enjoyment of the “thrill of the chase”.
“My steampunking name is Lady Hannah Dashury and that should say it all. Lady Haberdasher ... I love to repurpose,” she says.
Steampunk, described as Victorian science fiction in the present day, involves dressing up up in eclectic wear that she creates from recycled materials.
That includes reusing affordable, and often very good quality, duvet covers, or $1 jackets for their “beautiful” buttons. And it’s not just fabric that catches her eye, but shoes.
“Oh my God, don’t even go there with shoes!” And jewellery? “I’m a broochaholic.” Hats? “I must own about 40 steampunk hats.” It leads me to believe she must have a big wardrobe. She tells me to add an “s” at the end.
“I half use my husband’s, then I’ve got two racks of clothes downstairs, plus my own [wardrobe].”
The humble op shop — once suffering from the stigma of being down on one’s luck — has morphed into a hip and ecosustainable way to shop.
In the 1940s, the wartime economic crash saw many buy homeware and clothing from the only place they could afford. Under capitalism, they also redefined the role of businesses in society, employing the same people who shopped in them.
In 2021, they’re a way to combat fast fashion and the ethics and pollution of mass production; as well as being a cost saver in pandemic times.
They’re a treasure trove for those wanting something rare, or simply to feel the satisfaction of a bargain. Plus, most op shops are run by registered charities so you’re supporting great causes.
Secondhand apparel is a global retail trend worth $39.8 billion and is predicted to reach $91 billion by 2025, says Westpac’s REDNEWS.
Added to that, online thrifting is also popular, with research showing it will likely overtake traditional bricks and mortar op shops by 2024 and the fast fashion industry by 2029.
The most Morgan, 53, has parted with when buying secondhand is $90 for a coat by
The Carpenter’s Daughter, which still had its $300 price tag attached.
Husband Mick, a mobile mechanic, is also a “pro-thrifter”, and buys tools for older machinery that uses imperial measurements over metric; used remote control cars that he can attach teapots to for teapot racing; and more recently, round paper lanterns to
attach to cans, to make hot air balloons for Steampunk Tauranga’s Aeronautica Blue Do on September 18 — a fundraiser for Prostate Cancer Foundation NZ.
On this day, they and six other steampunk-loving couples will also renew their wedding vows.
United by marriage and love for op shopping, they don’t fret about what they might miss if they’re not in the right place at the right time.
“There’s always another day and another bargain.”
The thrill of the chase
Missing out on a bargain, however, can disappoint.
Habitual op-shopper Karolyn Timarkos,
54, recalls a near miss.
She was shopping at Waipuna Hospice Shop in Pa¯pa¯moa, having already secured a 50c white pillowcase, when she spotted a “spectacular” $40 lamp made out of six massive seed pods. Problem was, someone else had spotted it first.
A woman had picked it up and was looking at it. Timarkos stood nearby and silently willed her to change her mind: “Please don’t buy it, please don’t buy it”.
The woman put it down and walked away.
Timarkos swooped in and grabbed it. The thing with op-shopping is you can’t afford to dilly dally.
“If you want it, grab it.”
She proudly shares her thrift hauls with the 48,600 followers on the Op Shopping in New Zealand Facebook page, and has been an op-shopper since her uni days in Wellington in the 1980s.
Nowadays, she buys everything from secondhand clothes to furniture (her two couches were $45 each) and, like Morgan, buys materials for costume making.
She’s also a member of Steampunk Tauranga, and regularly attends Rotorua’s Costumiers Fantasy Masquerade Ball, making her own outfits.
Most recently, she bought a yellow bling dress for $15 from Graced Op Shop and Espresso Bar and spent eight hours and 20 minutes removing hundreds of rhinestones to repurpose for costumes.
Other random purchases, in no
It leads me
to believe she must have a
big wardrobe. She tells me to add an “s” at
the end.
particular order, include silk flowers for $10 and fresh lemons for 20c each; a pair of new Skechers shoes for $15; a 1945 aviationstyle bomber jacket for $15; deep dish pizza tin for 50c; Nancy Fraser original art canvas for $35; extra wide ironing board for $8; $6 Star Wars duvet cover to repurpose for a costume; an $18 corset with an original price tag of US$179; a $2 Christmas apron; $50 sewing machine and a $7 talking Chewbacca mask.
She frequents most of Tauranga’s op shops but her regular is Dovecote Pa¯pa¯moa because it’s handy to where she lives.
“I always pop in to see what they have and usually pop out with something: ‘Oh, I didn’t know I needed that!’.”
You get the thrill of retail therapy without the financial hangover.
“You don’t wake up the next morning and go: ‘Ugh, oh my God, I spent $500’.
It’s ‘yeah, man, look what I got for $15!”
Prices can sometimes seem high, but if you’re buying a Trelise Cooper shirt for $22, it’s still a bargain, she says.
Op shops are “upping their game” with goods, and their presentation. You no longer get that “musty” smell or haphazard sales placement.
“It’s not like walking into an op shop anymore, it’s like walking into a high-class boutique store.”
For that reason, she does have to “curtail” her op shopping on occasion.
Charities, however, are grateful for regular spenders and are “riding on the crest of a wave” of people decluttering and wanting to buy secondhand, says Kylie Overbye, corps officer for Rotorua’s Salvation Army.
“But we are aware that we’re always one Kim Kardashian tweet away about buying in Kmart, from losing this privilege.”
Their 600sq m family store plays a vital role in meeting the financial costs of the work that they do within the community, and they’ve had some great, and strange, donations — including the offer of 20 coffins, which they declined.
By law, they can’t sell certain things, including cots, baby walkers and gas appliances. And they only sell goods that adhere to their values.
Tauranga’s Martine Pierhagen says most of the op shops in the Bay of Plenty are good but you’ve got to be lucky.
“To find the real treasures, you’ll have to take your time and go through the entire rack.
“Everything I wear is from the op shop.
Except for my socks and undies and gym shoes. It saves me huge amounts of money but also saves the planet a little, and that’s important to me.”
One of the moderators of the Op Shopping in New Zealand Facebook page Mon Grafton can be found outside her local St John Opportunity Shop at 8.30am every morning. One of her favourite finds is a Crown Lynn Goodnight Kiwi money box for $6, but could be worth as much as a few hundred (not that she’ll ever part with it, she says).
Op shopping is “totally addictive”.
And it’s not necessarily about price, it’s just about finding that elusive and lusted after item.
“Everyone’s got a unicorn.”