It is a truth universally acknowledged that when I visit my home town I take an empty suitcase, which I quickly fill with all the op shop finds Christchurch has to offer. There is too much choice, which has resulted in a heap of clothes left in my parents’ care, which, as my mother laments every phone conversation, seems to be breeding of its own accord. I also have my own personal pile of garments necessitating alterations next to my mother’s sewing machine, those dresses and jackets which although might look awful at the time of purchase, are only two dollars after all, and just need a shorter hemline or a quick tuck.
While my visits to Christchurch may seem excessive, I cannot help but assume that without them my wardrobe would be very similar to the one I had when I moved to Wellington in February last year. That is, it would be almost exactly the same. What is the answer? Is it not enough of a trial to be spending more in rent than students in the Dunedins, Christchurches and Palmerston Norths of the country without being constantly reminded that we cannot get a meal for $4, let alone an amazing chunky knot or two pairs of little brown boots? WHERE ARE THE OP SHOPS? And don’t get me started on Petone; the only purchase I made in that dismal place was a bejewelled cat from ‘Cats a Wrap’ or whatever that silly store is called.
Why is it that we have to travel as far as Carterton to immerse ourselves in the available stock of a reasonably priced Salvation Army? Does Masterton deserve to have its otherwise horrible reputation and aesthetic ignored by me, to make way for sighs of envy and a barrage of questions about the fate of various opportunity shops? Unless you have cash to spare, and a willingness to spend it on vintage dresses, you are fucked.
Although Christchurch has many bad points, and the Wellingtonians I know consider it to be populated purely by dead prostitutes and racists, it has a fine array of reasonably priced, enormous second hand stores. I have access to a car there, which might be what makes the difference. Maybe there is a circumference of great cheap shops just outside my walking zone. Wellingtonians, prove me wrong. Drive me there.