Maker: Karlin of Karlin Art
My parents are out of town, and like any good daughter would do, I raided their fridge last night for some things to take home to my house. Why is it that the food at my mom’s house will always…
get started
BLOG posts
![When I was in high school I worked at a vintage store. It was my dream to work there. When some dreams come true, you see all the cracks in your fantasy but in this case it’s was pretty darn near perfect.
I dressed the mannequins (pretty sure that’s where my short stint as a Hollywood costumer 10 years later came from). I reorganized the store any way I wanted (finally a place for my OCD to shine). Window/store displays were 100% mine (my childhood obsession with dioramas came in handy). I got a discount and first pick of everything that came in.
My bosses were an “old” (to me at 16 year old although they were probably only in their 20s or 30s) couple of punk rockers with bleached hair and tattoos that looked like they were done with a blunt needle and ink from a ballpoint pen.
I was a Catholic school girl who wore plaid skirts and white button up shirts from 9-3 Monday-Friday but after school and on the weekend, I dressed like I’d just come out of a time machine from the 1950s and smoked cigarettes as I rung people up while Iggy Pop blared from the boombox on the shelf behind the counter.
It was a magical time when I look back with my rose-colored glasses. There were moments of magic but also feeling scared being in the store at night alone, wondering if my bosses thought I was doing a good job and spending hours cleaning (spraying Windex and rubbing spots with a paper towel) garbage bags full of clothes my bosses dropped off from their hauls at the by-the-pound wholesalers.
[con’t in comments 👇👇👇]](https://dearhandmade.wpenginepowered.com/wp-content/plugins/instagram-feed/img/placeholder.png)
© DEAR HANDMADE LIFE 2020. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. THIS SITE USES AFFILIATE LINKS. WE DISCLOSE ALL SPONSORED POSTS BY NAMING THE SPONSOR IN THE POST.