Dating : A Rainbow Trout Chair, a Box and a Plain Tweed Jacket

Yesterday I went thrift shopping with Ryan. It was a whole day ordeal, as we crossed town to visit 7 Arc thrift stores to take advantage of their weekly, Saturday 50% off sale. I walked away with a pair of plain khaki shorts, which fit me quite nicely, a black short sleeved shirt and a green bucket hat with “National Parks Conservation Association” lettered on the front. While I like them all, I have to confess that these are not the items I am thinking about at the moment.

In the corner of my room sits a blue, folding lawn-chair. Why it is in my room, I cannot say, because I did not place it there. My mom must have, at one point, during my 7 year absence, and now it takes up residence here in my room. It is by no means a plain lawn-chair, in fact, it reclines and even has a metal wing serving as both a side table and cup holder. Upon telling my mom I wanted to replace the chair, I was told that it was purchased for $85. Why this mattered, I do not know, but it raises the question of why one would buy an $85 reclining, tabled lawn-chair, and then place it in their son’s room. All this to say, I went to the Arc thrift stores in part to find a replacement for the misfit, and happened across one peculiar chair, the Rainbow Trout Chair.

The chair was structurally very plain. It was well cushioned on the seat, back and arms, impersonating a single-seater sofa, but distinctly a chair. The pattern is where the chair stood out; thick stripes of color, some a dark-green with a swirly wood grain-pattern, and others a thicker-striped gradient of yellow, blue and red streaked with jagged, mountain-peaks of black. Ryan commented, “it’s like a rainbow trout”, which caught the ear of a fellow thrift-chair shopper. She was older, probably in her mid-sixties, and chimed in, “it is like a rainbow trout, I had my eye on that one”. I brought it down from the upper rack, not knowing if I was supposed to ask for assistance, and sat. Our fellow chair shopper inquired, “is it comfy? That’s what matters.” We left the store without the chair.

At our next store, I found a wooden box. The box was made of a light wood, both in color and weight, but the lid fit snugly and had a satisfying feeling when laid down on the box. On the bottom of the box, a sticker reading, “Store Anything” was placed alongside a stamp proclaiming “Made in Taiwan”. I decided the box was too small for storing my many packages of tea leaves, and so, we left without the box. I regret this decision greatly, along with my choice made about the chair. I will return next Saturday in hopes that these two items will not be purchased before my reappearance. My gut says they will both be gone, so I write about them now so I can have a memory of them for the future.

When we reached our last store, I was in high-hopes to find something comparable to the Rainbow Trout Chair and wooden box; I did not find any comparable items. One thing I did find, however, was a plain-looking, tweed jacket. Some might call it a blazer, but I believe the proper term for such clothing item is a jacket. It is the kind of jacket that you see 10 of at every thrift store, but never once out on the streets. I imagine at some point in time, these jackets must have been fashionable, otherwise there would be no reason for why they are so plentifully found at these donation-based stores. This one, unlike so many others, fit both me and Ryan like a tailored suit. With the 50% sale, the jacket was $2.50 before tax, and it was immediately apparent that one of us would leave the store with a new jacket; Ryan cursed when I mentioned I liked the jacket. To make things fair, we did the equivalent of a coin flip, using an app on my phone, and I left the store without a new jacket.

Six items, three purchased, and three missed. I wish I had that jacket.