So, I op shop a lot. I’m pretty big into wearing op shop clothes, as I find the thrill of the chase more exciting than regular shopping, but mainly because I’m rather poor, and nothing beats $2 dresses.
You might be thinking that perhaps wearing op shop clothes as part of my 100 mile sartorial diet is a bit of a cop out, as it’s what I usually do, but I don’t think it matters. I don’t usually wear an entirely op-shopped outfit every day, I mix it up with a lot of chain stores clothes and accessories, as well as trinkets from various boutiques and such (most which comes from China, boo!)
I’d like to show that it’s possible to be environmentally conscious and community-minded when it comes to getting dressed (so, wearing everything either made within 100 miles or op-shopped), and that it’s still just as easy to put together stylish outfits everyday without the help of Myer, Sportsgirl or Ebay (my usual staples).
I think a lot people over estimate the difficulty of op shopping. I hear a lot of “oh, but I can never find anything!”, but I think that’s just perhaps people giving up too easily. If you go somewhere expecting to find nothing, you most likely will. And yes, you can go op shopping all afternoon and visit a fair few stores and only find a sort-of-ok-maybe-if-I-cut-it-up tent of a dress. But then, making do with that initially-ugly piece can sometimes lead to the most unexpectedly good piece of clothing – your won’t be afraid of hacking into it, because there’s nothing to lose! In fact, one of my favourite dresses that I wear to death is actually a left-over reject from a Two Bucks ‘Til Wednesday sale. It was the last thing left on the rack; a slightly whiffy, very large, leg-of-mutton-sleeved calf-length atrocity, but it was made of vaguely pretty, feather-printed fabric. I took it home, soaked it, chopped the sleeves, took out the shoulder pads, hemmed it, and voila! The reject dress that no one wanted (even for $7 at an indie-kid-filled charity sale!) is one of my most worn and loved pieces.