I have my theory – they all end up at Mexican flea markets, piled three feet high.
Even though I can comb through four floors of the SF Loehmann’s with the patience of Job to find a designer bargain, I was never tempted to dig through heaps of wrinkled clothes at a flea market… until I met Sheila. Sheila is an attractive refined woman of a certain age with perfect posture and wonderful style. The other day she told me the pants she was wearing, which looked tailor fit, cost her 22 pesos at the Tuesday market. I was astounded.
So this morning I got on the bus thinking if Sheila can do it, so can I. Fifteen minutes of digging and flinging brands like Ann Taylor and Banana Republic (oh, my!) along with some pretty tacky rags, and 35 pesos later (that’s about $2.50 US), I’m the owner of a classic fully-lined black linen sheath and a fit-like-a-glove pair of stretch khakis. This could get addictive.
Next Tuesday I’m going for Donna Karan.