Op shop chic with caution

by NICK BOND

My boyfriend and I recently decided to redecorate our flat. Looking around one day, we realised the uni student share house vibe we’d cultivated didn’t really fit us any more -“ we don’t live in a share house, and neither of us is at uni.

Like good little gays on a shoestring budget, we headed straight to IKEA. But the experience made me wonder: why do people furnish their homes with such mass-produced tat? Sure, I left IKEA with a Järgen, a Flúrg and two Knöbbs, but so did a lot of other people. Wouldn’t it be better to find something unique, while also doing my bit to counter society’s rampant mass consumption?

This is, of course, easier said than done. Indiscriminate collection of second-hand goods is what made my flat look like a crack den in the first place. Here are a few tips on how to kit out your home with pre-loved wares, without making the place look three dozen unspayed cats short of an old lady’s nuthouse:

Beware the hard rubbish collection. Hard rubbish days can be a great way of picking up free furniture, but remember to keep your head. Don’t get dizzy at the sight of a free armchair on your neighbour’s nature strip and hurriedly carry it home on your back like a soldier ant feeding his queen.

Pause for a second. Ask yourself: does this match my existing decor? Do I have a need for this in my house? Most importantly, what is that suspicious stain on the cushion and why is it moving?

Some friends, shacked up in a share house, have developed a crippling affliction over the last few years -” their home is the Bermuda Triangle of couches. Couches enter the front door, but never leave. They’re in the living room, the bedrooms, the hallway, and stacked high in the garage. It serves as a valuable lesson: if a friend or acquaintance offers you furniture that you don’t really want or need, just say no.

Op shops seem to have cottoned on to the vintage craze, and have adjusted their prices accordingly.

Remember, there’s a difference between vintage and old. Case in point: there’s a vintage store down the street from us offering an authentic 1993-era lamp for the inflated price of $50. I’m sorry, but nothing from 1993 is worth 50 bucks today, not even the Beverly Hills 90210 doona cover my mum begrudgingly bought me so that I could go to school every morning boasting that I’d spent the night in bed with Jason Priestley.

If you choose to go down the op shop route when decorating your home, tread carefully.