Men and Thrift

I'll never forget one particularly nasty beau calling a coat I picked up at an Ottawa consignment shop my "Obi-Wan Kenobi" coat. It was a Hilary Radley wrap coat - ok yes, it was brownish, and it had a belt, and - well - it had a hood too. I thought it was chic beyond belief, but I let this guy ruin it for me ... every time I went to wear it thereafter, all I could think was that old fart Obi-Wan. Alas, the coat went in the donation pile recently after sitting in my closet unworn for years.

When my ex called a prized (second-hand) head vase (pictured here) Ichabod Crane, I was ok with it - primarily because it come from a place of fun and love. And I love head vases - they're the freakiest things: vases in the shape of heads, with little openings where the brains should be. This head vase was like nothing I'd ever seen - so elegant, not at all kitschy - and it was made in Spain, not exactly the head vase capital of the world. My feisty cat decapitated Ichabod one day when I was at work, but it was a clean cut, thank God, nothing a little mega glue couldn't cure. I smile every time I look at my elegant lady. She can be swishy - and she can still be Ichabod.