20th hand clothes

"We call this second-hand clothes in English," I tell my Malagasy friends as we comb through a pile of frip: used clothes, bedsheets, bags, shoes, and even lingerie. Fripperie are stuffed into large sacks or crates then thrust out by wealthier nations into the hands of poor vintage hungry Peace Corps volunteers living in developing nations like myself. One of my friends comments that "second-hand" is really a euphemism for what should really be called 20th hand clothes. There is little doubt in my mind that this shoulder padded blazer was popular when my mother was in high school, perhaps it was even worn by her.

Who knows where our unwanted clothes items end up after we discard of them? Most of these hodgepodges are in my opinion offensive. I can't comprehend how someone could even fathom donating some of the things I see. And its not because I'm a fashion victim, used to being able to afford what has been dictated to me by Hollywood or popular society. Rather I feel, "look! a questionable stain on these shorts," or, "hey looky, here's some elastic band yoga pants, that no longer is elastic...bummer." But sometimes theres buried treasure underneath all the undesirable stuff, such as a nifty D & G bag that would cost me an arm and leg in the States, perhaps its the designer label lightly worn cocktail dress. One whole USD why not? Finds like these makes me eternally grateful to rich Westerners who tire of their attire after only a few wears, if not even.

I keep myself from translating the meanings that I find on some peoples shirts. For example I spotted a teenager during mass sport a tee which read, "No silicone". Ironically she let it hang, as most ladies do not wear brassieres here, unknowingly holding true to the statement. there was another man who wore a brightly colored shirt stating, "I love BJ" during a morengy match (Malagasy bare knuckle boxing). And not to mention a number of South Park jerseys with obscene comments printed on them. These items without question are from our earlier more angsty days of adolescence, desirably wiped from our memories in the form of charitable donations to organizations such as the Salvation Army. They are however appreciated by our Malagasy friends for the warmth they provide and maybe even great color scheme.