We're Going In: Thrift Madness at 'The Bins'

Act fast, dig deep, and don't be 'that one'

It’s not pretty, but you could strike gold! Photo by the Author.

There is thrift shopping. And then there is extreme thrift shopping. The kind that happens by the pound, at a place called “the Bins.”

This is where clothes and housewares go for their last judgment. Beneath harsh fluorescent lights, they get one more chance before they are shredded, recycled, and shipped to who knows where. Bargain hunters have one last opportunity to grab them.

And if you hesitate, you’re lost: That vintage petal pink maxidress is now half way to Uganda.

I knew this all from my sister Katie. She had been to “the Bins” in Rochester. She had told me stories. You have to dig deep, she said. And act fast. And sometimes, you strike gold.

“The Bins” are run by Goodwill. In my excitement I did not mention that. Until recently, there were just two Goodwill Bins in New York State — one in Rochester, and one in Queens. Now, the Bins have arrived in Hamburg.

Which is how I found myself on a Tuesday morning, bags in hand, standing breathless at the gates of a Wild West thrifting rodeo.

We’re going in.

No Video Allowed

The sign outside read simply “Goodwill Outlet.” Before 10 a.m., when the doors open, a few dozen people were already lined up outside.

In I went, camera in hand. What a vista I beheld.

Massive tubs of clothing. Signs listing prices, per pound. Checkout stations with big scales, ready to weigh carts.

A staffer hurried to my side.

“No video. I’m sorry,” she said.

I introduced myself and she did too. Her name was Michele. We became fast friends, as Buffalonians do. She gave me the lay of the land.

You pay for your finds by the pound. Clothes were $1.99 a pound. So were table linens — both counted as textiles. Electronics are untested, and you can’t plug them in to test them. Buyer beware!

From time to time, the bins turn over. An alarm sounds, and shoppers must step back “for safety’s sake.” When the all-clear rings out, the frenzy resumes.

Michele introduced me to the manager, Miss Clarice — who was buttoned up, petite, no nonsense. I decided the less said, the better. When Katie arrived, we grabbed two carts, rolled under the fluorescent lights, and headed straight for the bins.

‘A good hand’

Some shoppers wear gloves. We didn’t bother. We chose a row at random and just jumped in.

“Here’s how I attack it,” Katie said. “You rifle through the stuff, and whatever doesn’t interest you, you toss it back in the direction you came from.”

Immediately it was fun.

I admired a pair of socks with a lavender pattern. “Those are lovely,” Katie agreed. What would they weigh up to, a dime? Into the cart.

Soon we were gathering avocado green napkins. Katie gave me more pointers: If you find things that go together, i.e. two socks, or a set of napkins, put them together. That way, if you don’t buy them, someone else might.

Katie is a fabric expert. She looks for cloth she can repurpose for sewing projects. The Bins have sharpened her skills.

“It educates your hand,” she said. “Is it a cotton / poly blend? Is it cotton with a little spandex?” She reminded me of something our mom used to say, that if a fabric felt right, it had “a good hand.”

Shoppers at “the Bins” enjoy a certain camaraderie. People point out finds to others.

One shopper, Jean, recognized me from Hyatt’s, the legendary art supply store, where she works and I’m a regular. She was looking for vintage Buffalo Bills gear. I made a mental note to keep watch.

Meanwhile, I scored big.

Before my astonished eyes, up washed a camel-colored coat. Trimmed with fur, it had a vintage label reading “Krasner’s, Buffalo.”

My first look at the Krasner’s coat. Photo by the Author.

Krasner’s Ladies Apparel, which closed in 1999, opened in West Seneca in 1956 and was at one time at the Boulevard Mall.

Buttons, lining, pockets, everything about this coat was impeccable. I heard the Buffalo Sabres organ riff in my head.

Score!

‘Mary, don’t be that one!’

Suddenly the alarm sounded. The bins were turning over.

“Please stand behind the green line,” the speaker squawked. Everyone surged toward the front.

Michele caught me lingering. “Mary, don’t be that one!”

We watched as workers wheeled out the old bins and rolled in new ones. Katie people-watched.

“See that guy behind you?” she whispered. “Shoes must be his thing.”

One couple stood over a cart full of stuffed animals, crowned by a hideously kitsch chihuahua. They must be in business, we agreed.

At the all-clear signal, we dove back in. Clothes flew in every direction. As I was considering a vintage tablecloth, a jacket sailed past my nose.

My sister Katie holds up a Ralph Lauren wool coat. We ultimately rejected it because the lining was torn and we weren’t sure it would fit my husband. Photo by the Author.

I peeked in the windows of the doors to the back room. A forklift was at work, moving massive cardboard tubs. Michele appeared at my side, explaining that whatever doesn’t sell is shredded, baled, and recycled.

Such a fate! What if I hadn’t found that cute Krasner’s coat? Your heart goes out to items facing that final destination. As Michele put it, “It’s their last chance.”

Still, you cannot let sentiment dictate your purchases. The weight of things adds up.

A no-nonsense sign tells you what’s what. Photo by the Author.

My total came to almost $35. I walked out with the Krasner’s coat, a sombrero-print midcentury tablecloth, a dozen avocado napkins, a Ralph Lauren tuxedo jacket for my husband, Howard — and, somehow, two bags’ worth of other things.

And like any true Buffalonian, I will be back for more.

The Goodwill Outlet, aka “the Bins,” is located at 4255 McKinley Parkway, Hamburg. It is open 10 a.m. to 7 p.m. Monday to Friday, and 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. Saturday. For info, click here, or call the store at (716) 202-0188.

Mary Kunz Goldman is known for her years as columnist and classical music critic for The Buffalo News, one of the nation’s last great daily papers. She is the author of the book “Pennario,” a deeply personal account of her bittersweet friendship with the Grammy-winning piano virtuoso Leonard Pennario. Follow her adventures here.