PlanJam!From your screen to the scene

Drunken Discount Shopping in the South Slope

Ah, drunken thrift store shopping. It is truly one of the sweet pleasures of life, and one that couldn’t be more attainable, especially if you happen to live in the southern part of Brooklyn’s Park Slope. Sure, there are plenty of popular secondhand stores in Manhattan and Williamsburg, and many of them are convenient to bars and lounges, but few can claim to actually charge thrift store prices like Monk Thrift Shop. Alternately, few bars can claim to reside literally next door to a secondhand store, but Buttermilk is one of them.

Although there are many popular neighborhood bars in the South Slope, Buttermilk is always one of the first ones mentioned. It’s not that it offers anything particularly unique in its décor or the crowd that congregates there, but there’s something very comfortable about the place, something that makes you want to stay for another few drinks when you only intended to stop for one. Perhaps it’s the above-average jukebox, which is stocked with a mix of indie, punk, emo, 80’s dance rock, and other hipster favorites from throughout the decades. Cheap drink specials, Bloody Mary Sundays, and ever-changing theme nights keep things interesting, and you can always rely on the bartenders for an interesting conversation. Settle into one of the mismatched chairs and booths and kick back a few $2 Yuenglings, and soon you’ll be in the proper state of mind for combing the racks of cheap dresses next door.

Monk Thrift Shop is part of a popular chain that originated in Manhattan’s East Village. Cash-strapped students and starving artists have been stocking their wardrobe with finds from the store’s handful of locations for years, and it’s not hard to understand why. When I moved to New York from Tucson, I was an art school freshman with an addiction to used clothing, and the dearth of viable shopping options in Manhattan became apparent very quickly. Stores like Andy’s Cheepees were charging sixty bucks for collared shirts, and everything was pre-sorted for irony, taking all the fun out of the hunt. Even the Salvation Army, to my horror, was charging ten dollars for a pair of pants, a far cry from the fifty cents I was used to paying back home.

Monk may charge a little more than fifty cents (items average $5-20, and there is a dollar rack of clearance items by the entrance), but the atmosphere more than makes up for it. A far cry from the depressing gloom of the Salvation Army and Goodwill, Monk comes off as a charming boutique, its front window bursting with kitschy toys and antiques. My one complaint would be that the tiny store’s changing area leaves much to be desired, but after you’ve had a few, privacy becomes less of an issue, and I usually end up just trying things on over my clothes. Best of all, when you’re checking out, the friendly staff can always be counted on to strike up a conversation, no matter how incoherent you are, without passing judgment.

So bring along all the booze-loving fashion hounds in your life, and discover the joys of intoxicated clothes hunting. You’ll never shop sober again.