Sandals, $4.99
Salvos, Diamond Creek

I bought these sandals for my six-year-old and to my surprise she actually loved them. But after just one wear a strap came loose, the glue holding the lining in place having become brittle with age. I told her I would take them to a shoe man to get fixed, and upon hearing this my eight-year-old piped up, “You mean a cobbler.” I stood corrected, and it occurred to me that the only people for whom the word cobbler trips off the tongue are the very old, who came of age in a world where having things mended rather than cheaply replaced was a fact of life; and the very young, who are still immersed in their fairytale world.

Sandals, $6

Whenever I see a pair of striking shoes on a woman’s feet, one of the first thoughts to cross my mind is the pleasure she must have taken in purchasing them.

Over time the shoes will have become scruffy and she will no doubt have seen her fair share of bad times in them,
but to my mind that doesn’t diminish the fact that at one point, the shoes made her day and had her imagining the good times ahead.

Django & Juliette shoes, $6.99
Salvos, Sunbury

You would think, from the fashion shoots in magazines and newspapers, that women wear nothing but ridiculously high heels all the time. Why can’t stylists alternate the footwear so that every other outfit features flat shoes? Especially if the models are wearing short skirts. I like short skirts, but short skirts with high heels strikes me as a bit slutty and try-hard. And it’s not that I’m against slutty and try-hard per se, merely that - like everything - it’s a matter of degrees. I generally go for a look that's hopefully best described as just slutty enough and maybe I'm trying, maybe I ain't; and who's askin' anyhow, bozo?

Shoes, $2

There's a woman I sometimes have coffee with, a single mother to eight-year-old twins, who says she doesn't have time to shop. She’s at work while the boys are at school, and when she takes them shopping with her they apparently won’t let her look for things for herself. So she wears falling-apart shoes and the same top most days. Needless to say, this doesn't sit right with me. No time to shop! So I found out her shoe size and told her I would be her agent for shoes. It isn’t as interfering as it sounds.

I was thrilled when I found these shoes. $2! If she paid me back by buying me a cup of coffee, I'd come out on top! The shoes had clearly never been worn, and as with most unworn shoes at op shops, when I took them to the counter the woman said, “They didn’t last long, I just put those out.” Being a successful op-shopper, you see, isn’t about finding the "best" op shops: it’s about visiting op shops frequently. Of course, not everyone has that kind of time on their hands.



Shoes, $5

The only times my boyfriend needs to wear dressy shoes is when he’s off to the members’ stand at the MCG or a funeral. This is ironic as we actually refer to his dressy shoes as his “dead man’s shoes” on account of the fact they’re old-fashioned, from an op shop and have the name Keith Edwards written in them. He also has a jumper whose original owner not only labelled it with his name but also his workplace, Mt Alexander Hospital. I don’t know who owned my outfits before me – it seems women aren’t as inclined to put their names on their belongings.

Vodka Cruiser thongs, $2

A lot of freebies aren’t worth having. The tops that come with magazines are often made of such cheap material they give off a chemical stink, and the sunglasses are so flimsy and up-to-the-minute trendy they feel like dress-ups. And the thongs? Actually, the thongs are pretty good value. That’s because there really isn’t much to a thong. In fact, many free thongs last just as long and feel just as comfortable as a pair picked out of a rainbow of colours in a shop with loud music. And free thongs are so ubiquitous you’d be hard-pressed to find an op shop without at least one pair of unworn promotional thongs on its shelves. Whether or not the thongs are in your size and choice of tipple is another matter.

Boots, $35

I once confounded a man running a garage sale by buying an old toilet brush and holder. He was the one who’d put the brush out there with an asking price but still, he seemed a tad judgemental. The brush looked clean enough to me and in any case, I wasn’t planning to do anything unconventional with it so it seemed like a sensible purchase. Not that there aren’t depths to which I won’t sink. I don’t like the idea of second-hand Ugg boots, for instance, so I was very pleased to find these never-worn, plush-lined boots at an op shop.

Tap shoes, $3

It never occurred to my five-year-old to want tap shoes. After all, tap shoes aren’t advertised on TV, don’t line the shelves at Target or Toy Kingdom, and don’t come in shades of Barbie, Disney Princess or The Wiggles. And it never occurred to me to want her to want tap shoes until I was reminded that yes, you can spoil your kid rotten without resorting to Barbie, Disney Princess or The Wiggles. The makers of these tap shoes haven’t diversified into dolls and pencil cases and tissues and yoghurt, so I haven’t accidentally bought into the building of brand loyalty in pre-schoolers. Yippee! The shoes come from an op shop with a rather luxurious one-to-two ratio of volunteers to customers.