live, laugh, see, touch, taste SMELL, love ... that's what the totally stupid brown shirt said.
I have a "thing" for used stuff. Goodwill, Value Village and occasionally St. Vincent dePaul, except for that leather-like chair Neal brought home during one of his lunch hours, though I did laugh heartily when he leaned just a little too far back and fell oh so slowly and completely backwards. I nearly died laughing. NO, I don't so much go for the vinyl; more the value.
I love a deal.
I love vintage.
The Oxford Dictionary defines vintage this way:
of a past season
ok, we're talking waaaay past season, as in "was this stupid brown shirt seasoned?" Like, "did the owner of this totally stupid brown shirt ever bathe?"
and, "how did I not smell this at the store?" (easy answer, because everything in a used clothing store smells the same; like fart)
so, I was watching a movie last night, smelling my pits occasionally at first and then with much fervor later, and I finally had to just take the whole dumb thing OFF and shower and wash IT, only to discover (after the second washing) that it was, indeed, not me but, rather, the totally stupid brown shirt, emphasis on the SMELL word embroidered upon it, that completely encompasses the definition of the word vintage ...
way, WAY of a past season.