Get out! : If you love thrifting, you’ll love midtown

Thrifting.

For some, it’s an art – the thrill of the hunt, the promise of a real find.

For some, it’s a gift. They’re able to notice fabulous things amid the clutter of thrift store racks, things invisible to the untalented eye.

For those on a budget, thrift shopping often is a necessity.

For many others these days, it’s a living. They arrive early and strip the place of anything they think might have some remote value to some collector on eBay, from troll dolls and disco 8-tracks to actual antiques. They’ve made it harder and harder for the average shopper to score any treasures.

Old-time thrifters often talk about the glory days before the Internet and the emergence of overpriced clothing resales boutiques that snatch up the coolest thrift garb before anyone else gets a chance and then mark it up to near designer prices. That faded old Def Leppard shirt you donated to Goodwill likely is hanging from the rack of an über-trendy clothing shop with a price tag that reads something like this: “Retro – $35.”

Recently, many thrift stores have gotten into the act, too, with roped-off collectible sections and high-priced “funky” racks. This probably is great for the various charities that benefit from the sale of these items, but it’s frustrating for shoppers looking for cheap thrills.

Regardless, hard-core thrifters carry on, realizing that items sometimes still slip through the cracks, unnoticed by mark-up vultures. In a way, it makes the discovery of cool stuff even more thrilling. There’s an addictive quality to the natural rush a person feels when that impossible search ends in a brilliant thrift coup.

Coeur d’Alene, like many other towns, has a large and voracious thrifting cult. For some, it’s a fun game of hide-and-seek; for others, it’s down-and-dirty, ruthless competition.

Making the rounds from store to store on a weekly – and sometimes daily – basis, the shoppers recognize faces but don’t speak. They exchange glares that say, “What are you doing in my territory?” They jealously eyeball the contents of one another’s carts. They know every staff member of every thrift store in town, and they shamelessly befriend them in hopes of a discount.

Frankly, I think it’s fantastic, and I fully admire their inventive viciousness. After all, these are the folks who come away with the gold.

I’ve been thrifting in this town for eons, and there have been times when I’ve come perilously close to joining the mad cult. But normally, I prefer just casually looking around to see what random items turn up.

I’ve come to know the local thrift stores and all their quirks. Seasoned thrifters know that each store has its own personality with high points and low points.

We are fortunate to have a killer thrift Mecca right here in midtown Coeur d’Alene, with no less than six stores perfectly arranged on the same small stretch of land.

I recruited my friend M. to provide a needed female perspective, and we headed north on Fourth street for a sunny day of bargain-hunting mania.

The Idaho Youth Ranch Thrift Store, 811 N. Fourth St., is known for its large rock ‘n’ roll mural and its suck-you-in first aisle full of knickknacks and foofaraw.

Sad clown statuettes mingle with Faberge eggs and aquarium décor in an attractively random, anything-smaller-than-a- breadbox kind of way.

There’s also the never-changing tragedy of the “new merchandise” section. I’ve had my eye on a “new” kitschy Asian lamp here for years, but the un-thrifty high price never drops.

This place is good if you’re looking for furniture and appliances, which always appear to be clean and still functioning. With such low prices, items don’t stick around for long.

The Youth Ranch store tends to be rough when it comes to men’s clothing; scant racks of faded flannels and ‘80s Kmart sweaters, as if the donations just dropped off about 12 years ago.

M. describes the women’s clothing section as having a “seriously spooky vibe, like someone in back is watching me shop on closed-circuit TV.”

She did score a few recent Dean Koontz novels in the pretty OK book department, but I was disappointed that the once-overflowing record shelf had shrunk down to a few mildewy stacks of reject vinyl.

Across the street, the Women’s Center Thrift Store, 848 N. Fourth St., is astonishingly well-organized.

Crocheted potholders go in the crocheted potholder bin and fringed denim vests go on the fringed denim vest rack. Clothing is arranged in rainbow order, and the wee book department is broken into a dozen labeled categories. The kitchen section is arranged museumlike with delicate oddities that rattle ominously when you walk through.

Despite the neatness, I don’t think I’ve ever found anything substantial here. I’ve trawled through the men’s section many times, but it always seems like everything has shrunk in size. Even the 2X items here look like L’s, way too small for this big thrifter.

“Drag queen heaven” is how M. describes the women’s department. “Who else wears a size 22 neon purple sequined gown?”

We head around the corner to the barnlike Humane Society Thrift Shop, 916 N. Third St. I’m an animal lover, so I always want to spend some bucks here, but I only occasionally have much luck.

Once, a rare Devo CD box set sat on the front counter with a $4 price tag, causing me to have a thrift meltdown right in front of the poor old woman volunteering behind the counter, who I can tell thinks I’m a psycho to this day.

Recently, they have slapped some paint around and rearranged a bit, making for an artificially fresh experience.

Neither M. nor I bother with the clothes, knowing from past experiences that the racks represent the lowest-of-the-low 1997 high school carwash T-shirts and wide-waisted polyester pants.

I did manage to find a set of retro-cool wall hangings from the ‘40s featuring garish color photographs of landmarks such as Snoqualmie Falls and the Grand Tetons. A dollar each. Score!

M. swears by the Goodwill store, 1212 N. Fourth St., but the trick is getting there exactly when they’re putting out the carts of new stuff.

This place usually is crowded with screaming kiddos, and the fluorescent lights always make me want to start photosynthesizing. But the ‘80s music is always good here, allowing me to tune out the chaos and enjoy my shopping experience.

I have found some good clothing items here. In fact, of all the stores on this list, Goodwill seems to have the healthiest selection of men’s apparel – barely used dress shirts that still are semi-in-style and lots of name brands.

M. says she has acquired an entire season’s worth of new outfits in a single afternoon in the overflowing Goodwill women’s section.

Men never try on stuff in thrift stores. They just buy it, and if it doesn’t fit, oh well – it was only a couple of bucks. However, I did wait patiently for M. to try on a pile of shorts and tops, and in the end, she emerged victorious, buying four pairs.

I chanced upon a like-new pair of black Sketchers shoes while I waited for M. to try on stuff, and I decided they were well worth the $6. And they even fit when I tried them on later at home.

Obviously, St. Vincent de Paul, 108 E. Walnut St., is named after the patron saint of thrifting. If annual awards were given for best midtown Coeur d’Alene thrift store, St. Vinnie’s would take home the trophy year after year.

The store has countless rooms full of ever-changing thrift goodness, and the place goes on and on forever until you reach the backyard area, which also is overflowing with miscellany.

I always find something here and have learned that it’s physically impossible to just run in and out. Better give yourself at least an hour. It takes me at least that long just to look through the shelves and shelves of books and records.

M. says the main women’s section is mostly useless dreck. “I was attacked by gem sweaters; I nearly lost an eye,” she says.

I’m not always lucky with the clothing section, either, but I might buy a shirt I don’t even really like just because it’s half-off day and the darned thing is only 75 cents.

I never have enough patience for the famous discount clothing bins, but M. loves digging around in them. She is the type with a real gift for thrift and isn’t afraid to get dirty, always pulling the most amazing cool stuff out from those dank depths.

St. Vinnie’s also has a great wall-art section. My house is decorated mostly with items from here, including one of my all-time great finds, an original Picasso linocut print, which I’ve yet to have appraised. But I have seen similar items on eBay for upward of $1,000. You truly never know what the saint will have in store for you.

The last stop on our agenda is the Hospice Thrift Shop, 1823 N. Fourth St. M. and I decided we’re a little scared of this place because the women who run the show here are notoriously cranky.

Once, I spent an hour here shopping, loading my cart with stuff. When I went to pay, I was told they don’t accept debit cards. It was like they’d never heard of the concept. Bewildered, I asked the clerk if she would hold my items so I could run to the ATM and get cash. She told me “no” and made me put everything back, which I did because her demeanor made me feel guilty for even causing the whole scenario. Sheesh.

As for the merchandise, the garbage-to-gold ratio is high, making this another place where you just want to skip the clothing department and the book department and the dish department and every other department.

The store has some great overpriced, outdated technology – I don’t think these women realize how obsolete that Betamax is, as evidenced by the $40 price tag.

The Hospice Thrift Shop is the kind of place you might want to take granny when she’s got a jones for some crochet supplies.

Maybe M. and I were experiencing thrift burnout, but we both decided this old place needs a face lift.