A Smile

One great thing about Arlington is the plethora of thrift stores. The beautiful furniture in my apartment? From (insert name of fancy furniture store here) you ask? No! Had you fooled! $5 at Thrift Town.

On my way home from work earlier this week I stopped into Collins Thrift to check out the Paul Frank collection. An old man in tattered clothing holds the door for me as I walk in. How sweet.

I run into him again as I walk down the skirt aisle. His cart is half filled with women's dresses. Ah, presents for the Mrs! Simply precious.

I pick up a few items, two work shirts and a skirt, and head for the dressing room. As always, there is someone in the women's dressing room, and another woman waiting. Being the brazen feminist that I am, I am undeterred by signs and walk towards the men's dressing room.

No way! Men don't try on clothes, especially not in a thrift store. But even so, there are feet under the door, in long white old man socks.

Determined not to wait in line to try on clothes that likely won't fit or have a hidden stain, I try on each item over top of my clothes in front of a one-way mirror in the back of the store. And I was right. Nothing fits well enough to spend $4 on.

I put away the clothes and head for the door, and who is there to open the door for me again? Good 'ol tattered Joe. In long white old man socks. With no bags. Smiling.