New York City can be divided into two types of people: Those who pick up used stuff on the street and those who don’t. I have a hard time understanding the latter. Few things make me happier than a good street find. Although I don’t expect everyone to be full fledged dumpster divers, they are truly my peeps. My issue with the former, is these folks are most likely to toss usable stuff in a garbage bag rather than leave it on the street or donate it.
I’ll admit that I love stuff. Living in Brooklyn is a stuff-finders dream. I pick up things all the time. Like, every-day-all-the-time. Cool stuff I can use – a working air fryer, a desk chair (or 3). It’s astounding how much I find that I can use in my work. I have dozens of sweaters and jeans, fabric, embroidery hoops, darning and sewing thread – you name it and I probably have found it.
Sometimes I find cool stuff I can’t use but wish I could – a vintagy looking orange clock, a pair of newish but too big Gucci sandals. This can’t use stuff comes in and then, after what my friend Lisa refers to as the “processing period”, inevitably goes back out on the street for someone with bigger feet to pick up. But the most satisfying are the practical finds: the random barbie shoes that inspired a wave of barbie theme sweaters or the sewing table and mannequin that sit in my workroom.
There is something so delicious about finding something you need. Of course, there is the free aspect. I love free shit. But I also hate waste. The balance that is created by my need being met with nothing new being made or added to a landfill, is beautiful and thrilling to me.
