#tiny is having a rough time so I am making lists to stabilize myself

[kiragecko]

Cheat Sheet for Bases/Radices 2 to 20

Google Sheets link HERE. This is what Tiny (my preteen) and I spent Wednesday doing!

You match every digit of your number to the chart for the correct base, and then add all your results together. (My arbitrary stopping point for number of columns was the first column that was over [2000].

Under the cut is an extremely wordy explanation of what bases are and how they actually work.

A base (or radix) is the number of unique digits a positional number system has.

... hmm. Can I break that down a bit?

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'Digits' are symbols used to write numbers - '1', '2', '7', etc.

The number of 'unique digits' is how many distinct symbols a number system has. '3' and '0' are unique digits, but '34' isn't. It's made of 2 unique digits.

A 'positional' number system is one where you add a new number to the start/end when you run out. After writing [9] you have no higher numbers to use, so you add a [1] in a new column and start over (ie. you write [10]).

So, Roman numerals aren't a positional system - you add new symbols as you get to higher numbers ('X' is for 10, 'M' is for '1000", etc.), rather than use the same numbers in a new column.

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A base (or radix) is how many digits you have before you need to write '10'.

In Base 3, you have 3 digits - '0', '1', and '2'. After '2', you'll need to add a column and write '10'. Then you can write '11' and '12', before you need to switch to '20'. After '21' and '22', you've run out of numbers for TWO columns and need to write '100'.

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Most people have learned math in Base 10. I'm writing this whole post using Base 10. Most people just think of the Base 10 system as 'numbers'. It's just how math WORKS! We have the digits [0] to [9]. Then we can go from [10] to [99]. Than [100] to [999]. Etc.

I'll be using square brackets for digits in Base 10; and single quotes for digits in other bases, as well as digits just being digits.

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Because we include a '0' in all positional number systems, you can't actually write the number the base is named after with one digit in that system. ALL bases will write the number they're named after as '10'.

[3] is written as '10' in Base 3. [16] is written as '10' in Base 16. [10] is written as [10] in Base 10. Etc.

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How do you write unique single digits if the Base is larger than 10?

You use letters! 'A' comes after '9', then 'B', then 'C', and you just keep going. I hate Base 19 and higher, because 'I' (the letter 'i') and '1' (the number one) look far too similar.

In Base 16

'1' is [1] '2' is [2] '3' is [3] '4' is [4] '5' is [5] '6' is [6] '7' is [7] '8' is [8] '9' is [9] 'A' is [10] 'B' is [11] 'C' is [12] 'D' is [13] 'E' is [14] 'F' is [15] and '10' is [16].

You treat these letters just like any other digit. There isn't anything special about these digits. We just need SOMETHING to stand in for [11], so that [27] isn't written as '111'. That would be impossible to tell apart from [273]! (Also written as '111' in Base 16.) '1B' is weird to look at, but we don't have a better symbol that makes us think of an [11].

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Back to the Base 3 example. What do the Base 3 numbers match up to in "normal" numbers? (Ie. in Base 10?)

'1' is [1] '2' is [2] '10' is [3] '11' is [4] '12' is [5] '20' is [6] '21' is [7] '22' is [8] '100' is [9]

'1' and '2' in Base 3 have the same value as "normal" [1] and [2]. Digits in the first column will always work this way, no matter the base - they will always start at [1] and go up by 1.

But '10' and '20' AREN'T the same. They match up with "normal" [3] and [6]. '100' matches up to [9]! How do we figure out what a digit in anything but the first column will match up with?

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To figure that out, we need to break down what we're doing in Base 10 a little further.

As I said before, we write [10] because we've run out of unique digits for the first column. But as soon as we add that '1' to the beginning, we can reset out first column and use it again! This means we don't write [20] until we've used up all our digits a SECOND time. So, each number in the second column will be [10] more than the previous number.

It's the same with all the other columns. To write [300] you have to fill up the second column [3] times. Since the second column only goes up when the first column is full, that means the first column have filled up [30] times by that point!

Another way to write this is to say that to figure out a number in Base 10, you need to multiple the digits in the first column by 1, the second by 10 (1 times 10, or 10¹), the third by 100 (1 times 10 times 10, or 10²), etc. and then add them together.

In Base 10, [4726] is

[4] times [1000] = [4000] [7] times [100] = [700] [2] times [10] = [20] and [6] times [1] = [6]

Because our number system is built around Base 10, the final result of adding those together is written [4726]. So we usually don't bother to break numbers down that way. But when we're translating numbers to a different base, this becomes important.

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In Base 3, the second column goes up by [3] (1 times 3, or 3¹), the third by [9] (1 times 3 times 3, or 3²), and the fourth by [27] (1 times 3 times 3 times 3, or 3³). That's how many numbers it takes to fill up those columns when all you have are the digits '0', '1', and '2'.

So '20' in Base 3 is equal to

'2' times [3], which adds up to [6].

'2212' in Base 3 is

'2' times '1000' = '2000' '2' times '100' = '200' '1' times '10' = [10] and '2' times [1] = '2'

in Base 3, which adds up to '2212'.

But it's:

'2' times [27] = [54] '2' times [9] = [18] '1' times [3] = [3] and '2' times [1] = [2]

in Base 10, which adds up to [77]. Which isn't nearly as intuitive!

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Anyways, that's how you translate out of a different base into Base 10. You figure out the value of each column and then add them together.

But how do you translate FROM Base 10 into a different Base?

There's a suggested way, and then my way. My way is probably worse. But the suggested way involves DIVIDING, which I hate, so here we are.

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The suggested method is to divide your number by the base number, and keep track of the remainders.

Let's say it want to convert [1000] into Base 6.

[1000] divided by [6] is ... (let me get a calculator) ... [166]. With [4] left over/remaining. [166] divided by [6] is [27]. With a remainder of [4]. [27] divided by [6] is [4], with a remainder of [3]. [4] can't be divided by [6] and leave a whole number, so our final remainder is [4].

Now the remainders are the digits left in a column that haven't filled it up yet. That final [4], that can't even be divided once? hats our biggest column, not full enough to spill over to anything bigger. The other remainders are the digits left in the previous columns, with the first time we divided leaving us with our ones.

Reading from bottom to top, in Base 6, [1000] is '4,344'.

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My method, since I can't divide and have to multiply anyways:

Let's say it want to convert [1000] to Base 6.

I figure out the value of the columns until one is over [1000]. In Base 6, '10,000' is equal to [1296], so our final number is going to be between '1,000' and '5,555'. '1,000' is equal to [216], so I multiple numbers by [216] until I get one over [1000]. '5' times [216] is [1080], so our first number needs to be one less, a '4'.

'4' times [216] is [864]. So, '4,000' is [864]. How much do I have left over?

[1000] minus [864] is [136]. '100' in Base 6 is equal to [36], so to figure out the '100' column, I multiply numbers by [36] until I get one over [136]. '4' times '36' is [144], so our second number needs to be a '3'.

'3' times [36] is [108]. [136] minus [108] is [28].

'10' in Base 6 is equal to [6], so I start multiplying numbers by [6] until I get over [28]. '5' times '6' is [30], so our second number needs to be a '4'.

'4' times [6] is [24]. [28] minus [24] is [4]. Our final column is '4'.

In Base 6, [1000] is '4,344'.

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Look, everybody's brains work different. For some people, this is going to be the most confusing explanation ever. But it helped me and my son. Maybe it will help someone else!

[kokkoro]

I'm going to save you from the terrible date you're having - while ice skating. Bonus points if one slips and is caught by the other, leading to a tender but charged moment of eye contact 🤭

On the list of worst dates, Clarke would rate this at a solid four. Definitely not as terrible as the comedy show that was just as bad as the food (turns out bigotry and food poisoning go hand in hand), but it’s definitely getting up there. The ice rink is packed for a Saturday evening and she glides ungracefully towards the wall of the ice rink avoiding the other skaters with narrow success, hands outstretched until safety is firmly established. She grips the edge until her hands hurt and somewhere in the back of her mind she hears Raven say, “I told you so.”

“Clarke!” calls the voice of her date and it’s a nice voice all things considered. Deep and manly and rough (and he’s certainly not bad on the eyes either), but when she glances behind her, catching sight of the wide smile she at first thought was handsome, all she wants to do now is smack it off with her fist. Multiple times. He skids to a stop, spraying a sheen of ice flakes over her feet. “Are you tired, already?”

“Connor–”

“C’mon, don’t be a party pooper. We basically just got here.” He reaches for her hands, tugging her away from the wall. She bites back an involuntary yelp as her feet threaten to slip on the ice, but he does at least one thing right and waits until her feet are firmly under her before letting go again. He skates backwards for a moment, making sure she’s still there before turning around and speeding off.

Other people swerve to avoid her as she stands motionless on the ice, rushing by with impressive speed, and all it takes is one tiny bump to send her balance on an all expenses paid vacation without her.

“Sorry!” calls a teenager, but Clarke barely hears it. She’s too busy concentrating on her feet and the series of uncoordinated steps she takes back towards the wall, waving arms with little success for stability. As a result Clarke reaches out for the first stable thing she can find.

It just so happens to be another person.

There’s a quiet gasp of surprise, almost too soft to be heard, but instead of the solid impact of the ice, Clarke is pulled fast against a firm body and for the first time in the last half hour she isn’t fighting off the urge to fall. That is, until she looks up at her saving grace and finds what must be the prettiest green eyes this side of the continental US.

“Hi,” The woman says, breathy, brown hair a tad mussed from their brief but ultimately victorious battle against gravity (definitely no thanks to Clarke).

“I’m so sorry,” Clarke replies, but her death grip on the woman’s coat doesn’t loosen in the slightest. She can’t help the fleeting thought that this date just got unexpectedly better, though perhaps not for the right reasons, but she’ll definitely take whatever she can get.  “I am not having a very good time right now.”

“I can see that,” The woman says with this slight smile, confident enough in her ability to hold Clarke steady with one arm as she takes her right hand and runs it through her hair to tame the mess. “Do you want some help off the ice?”

“I would love some–” And as if on cue, Clarke hears her date’s voice somewhere in the noise and the urge to groan is immediate. She wonders if it would be inappropriate to ask to hide inside this nice woman’s coat. “–but I am currently on the fourth worst date of my life.”

The woman looks over Clarke shoulder, and by the look on her face, Clarke suspects she’s found him. The woman returns her attention back to Clarke. “Do you want an out?”

“You saved my life once already,” Clarke says with a shake of her head. “I can’t ask you to do it again.”

“Lexa.”

Clarke blinks. “I’m sorry?”

“My name,” Lexa says. “And it would honestly be my pleasure.”

“Clarke.”

It’s a second, but the smile is quick to spread across Lexa’s face. “Nice to meet you, Clarke.”

And the things the sound of her name from those lips does to her should be illegal in at least thirteen states.

“Clarke, hey, Clarke!”

This time Clarke does indeed hide. Face pressed against Lexa’s soft jacket, she thinks maybe here she’ll finally find some semblance of peace. It lasts seconds if that, but Clarke inhales this calm earthy scent.

“Hey Clarke,” Connor says, “are you okay?”

Clarke sighs, pulling away, but keeps herself firmly tethered. “I’m–”

“It’s my fault,” Lexa interrupts, and Clarke looks up at her. “I bumped into her and I think she might have twisted something. Isn’t that right?”

“Wha- oh yeah, my ankle. I think I twisted it trying to catch myself.”

“Oh no,” her date says, and out of the corner of her eye, Clarke thinks she sees Lexa roll her eyes. “Do you, uh, want me to help you?”

“That’s alright,” Lexa says. “I can take it from here, Chad.”

“My name’s Connor.”

Lexa doesn’t look at him. “Sure.”

He seems too confused to respond to that and they both leave without looking back. Lexa helps her towards the exit of the rink and Clarke wonders if he’s still there, motionless in the middle of the ice, when they finally make it back to solid ground. It makes her feel a tiny bit better about the whole thing.

Lexa taps the tip of her skates against the ground, the excess flakes falling off, but even without the ice under her Clarke’s legs feel like jello and Lexa quickly reaches for her arm again.

“I think he was trying to show off,” Lexa says, making sure Clarke stays upright while Clarke leads them towards the small wooden benches.

Clarke plops down at the one near the rental counter, making quick work of the laces. “Yeah, well, he sucked at it,” she says, tugging the left skate free with a grunt.

“It’s not bad once you know what you’re doing.”

Clarke looks over, Lexa beside her on the bench with her hands folded together in her lap, and stops, fingers woven between the laces. “Are you offering?”

Lexa offers a small shrug. “Possibly. If you’re interested that is.”

“I might be.”

Lexa glances away, and Clarke watches the corner of her lips quirk upwards. She can’t keep her eyes away for long and when Lexa looks back, Clarke holds the stare. “What do you say about dinner? Right now. A little bit of food and warmth, and if you’re still feeling up to it we can…” Lexa takes a breath, steadying, a blush forming on her cheeks and ears and Clarke thinks it might be the most endearing thing she’s ever seen. “come back when there’s less of a crowd. I can show you how it’s done.”

Clarke’s heart stutters. “I would like that.”

[catholicdaredevil]

Self Hate - A Tony Stark One Shot

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader

Words: 1736

Notes: I wrote this for a friend as a self indulgent fic for her when she was going through a lot of issues with seeing her own self worth in terms of the way she feels about her body. While I’ve switched her name out, it does still list physical attributes specific to her including but not limited to scars from when she got her appendix out. So I definitely understand this might be a difficult reader insert given the specificity but I wanted to share it anyways! This has themes that could be upsetting since they deal with body image issues so make sure to take care of yourself even as far as reading this and don’t upset yourself. Remember that you are strong, capable and fucking worth it. I love you all and if you need anything just shoot me a message. I am accepting requests but obviously they aren’t really coming out well so it’s just a waiting game but you’re still welcome to send them in!

You stared intently at your own reflection in the bathroom mirror in your underwear as the list in your head grew- you constantly ran through this list on a daily basis. The list of things about your body you didn’t like, the list of things you’d change given half the chance, the list of things that made you miserable when you thought about them. Unfortunately you were always thinking about them, as your hands ran across your chest down to your stomach. Too much. Over your thighs and hips. Too much. To your ass and back. Too much. Your brain felt foggy with all the pathetic thoughts of how you would never be worthy of anything, any love or affection, let alone happiness. 

“Hey baby I know that look,” arms snaked around your waist and Tony set his head on your shoulder, meeting your gaze in the mirror. He chastised you with his eyes and you sighed loudly, feeling your body relax as the breath left your chest. “That’s your ‘I hate myself’ look.”

Turning to look him in the eyes you scoffed loudly at his bold to-the-point attitude he held, letting your hands meet behind his neck. “Bold of you to talk about having an ‘I hate myself’ look Tony.” 

Tony’s head fell back in laughter, holding you tightly to him, his smile was so bright when he looked back at you. He’d been doing so well lately with everything. It had taken years for him to get where he was, therapy, medicine, breakdowns, progress and relapses were all along his path. He credited his strength and patience to get better entirely on you; on your love and support and he vowed to do the same to help you. He leaned in to kiss you gently, his lips moving to kiss across your cheek and continued as he spun you back to look at yourself, his lips ending right under your ear. 

“Maybe one day I was but now I am a shining beacon of what could be.” It made your head hurt with how hard you rolled your eyes and he chuckled lowly into your ear, his breath tickling and warm. “Y/N, baby, you are my entire world. You are the brightest light in my life, you are drop dead gorgeous and the love of my existence.”

Hot tears built in your eyes and spilled out to run down your face as he spoke, one of his rough calloused thumbs wiping them as they fell. The soft pink of your lips slightly parted you could taste the salt as tears slipped into your mouth. 

“I-‘m okay Tony, it’s-justa bad day. I don’t wanna look at myself anymore today.” Hiccuping out a sob at the sight of his face falling in pain, you felt bad that now that his mental health was in check you began to crumble in your own. 

Sure he never complained but you knew it added stress; stress he didn’t need, stress you didn’t want him to have. Yet he remained relentlessly kind, unwaveringly loving, attentive to every detail he could be. It made you feel sick with guilt, you couldn’t understand how he felt you worth all his time and effort. Him, Tony Stark, playboy, billionaire, philanthropist, doting on just you. You couldn’t see what he saw in you, couldn’t fathom that it was different than what you so often saw in yourself. Too much. 

Tony felt exactly the same but in a completely different way. He couldn’t wrap his head around how you didn’t see what he did, he couldn’t begin to understand what you saw wrong with yourself when you looked in the mirror. Looking at you was one of his greatest joys, not just because you were attractive, no it was so much more. When he looked at you, he saw unadulterated love. Behind the sparkle of your eyes was every time you had said ‘I love you’, was every single moment you held his head in your lap, your fingers carding through his soft chocolate hair and had let him cry, clutching you to him. He couldn’t grasp that you didn’t see the love he had for you, when him seeing yours was the light that brought him out of such darkness. That your legs that you thought were too this or that, were what held you up every day, carried you around, carried you to him. Every part of you that you hated to look at, were the parts that he found running through his mind ever possible hour of the day and night, the parts that he could run his hands over, fingertips softly brushing across the planes of your soft skin. Feeling the ridges of scars, stretch marks, bumps and bruises everything that added up and equaled the one thing he cared about more than anything. You. 

Tony was never a religious man, and within that never understood how they siphoned time into only two categories; before Christ and after. Well, never understood before you came into his life and cleaned out the cobwebs in the darkest parts of his mind to bring light, laughter and love. Now every moment of his life could be described as such that had confused him for so long: before and after. He could remember the day he first met you, heard your laugh fill the room as you walked in with someone who at the time simply looked blurred compared to the ethereal glow that seemed to surround you. Your deep voice like velvet as you spoke, a grin plastered to your face and at that moment while he thought at the time that he didn’t deserve it; he knew he had to have you in his life in any way possible. All of this adding up to him being so utterly in love with you it drove him crazy at times, but he wouldn’t give it up for anything. 

“We can cover every mirror in the world if that makes you feel better baby, but nothing will change the fact that you are the most incredible human being I’ve ever met and that I am wildly in awe of every tiny thing you do. Every breath you take is a miracle, every time our eyes meet I am cured of every dark thought in my mind, when your hand so much as brushes against mine my heart stops just to be restarted by your smile. Y/N I am not a man of words, I’ve always been better with my hands everyone knows this, but you. You make me want to write sonnets and plays about your beauty, about your kindness and generosity, about the way it feels to be so fucking loved for once in my life. For once I can feel loved, I feel your love for me radiating off of you and god damn it if I don’t love you with every atom of my fucking being.” Tony’s eyes locked with yours as you both still faced the mirrored wall of your shared bathroom, his strong hands holding you tight without trapping you. You sobbed silently into your hands, ragged breaths ripping from your chest. Tony pressed soft kisses to your hot cheeks and turned you to look at him once more, in his eyes the tenderness they always held just for you. 

“I love you.” He whispered, his large hands held your cheeks, thumbs like windshield wipers back and forth across your face to wipe tears from their path. 

“I’m so sorry- I love you so much,” The words barely audible but enough to pull a smile out of Tony. His hands drifted from holding your face to down your shoulders, fingertips running down your sides to grip onto your hips with such fervor it made you shiver. 

“You have nothing to apologize for, you’re my girl, I’ll always be here.” His lips pressed against yours and the love that poured out of them was overwhelming. You felt maybe an ounce of the love he had for it and it was more than you had ever thought was possible to be loved yet here he was. Defying all of your negative thoughts and expectations; loving you with every piece of him and making sure you knew it everyday of your life.

“Do you really mean all that?”

“Yes of course. Can I show you something?” Your head lifted to look at his face before nodding and he slowly spun you around one final time to face your reflection. “Every piece of you, is you. Your hair, always smells like coconut and mango and I could recognize you anywhere with my eyes closed and hands behind by back just by the smell of your shampoo I swear it’s so ingrained in my brain.

Your eyes that hold all of that love you keep just for me, are so sharp and I can hear you chastise me when I get out of hand with one single glance. Down to your cute little nose, that always does- well that,” he poked your nose all scrunched up before continuing, “Every time I compliment you. Like it’s a bad smell or something. Your mouth, god your mouth Y/N. Fuck it kills me, you literally unravel me with nothing but your mouth at times and I don’t just mean when you’re sucking my dick. The way it quirks up just slightly when I make a shitty joke, like you don’t want to encourage me but still think it’s funny. Or when you’re talking about something you’re passionate about and every single word is laced with a smile so wide I feel like I could get lost in it. All the way down past your cute little scar from when you got your appendix out to your fucking toes, there’s not a single part of you I would change.”

You took in a shaky breath to try and stabilize the way your heart was pounding as he pressed gentle kisses behind your ear. 

“I love you, more than you'll ever know, really. Now, do you wanna go lay in bed and watch Game of Thrones and order pizza?” His breath tickled against your skin and you nodded. Tony picked you up bridal style and carted you off to bed, where he spent the next three hours continuing to shower you in love because well, he loved you.

Tags: @hootyhoobuckaroo​ @tokoyamisstuff​ @5aftermidnight​ @vinyloider​ @tropicalcap​ @spiider--boy​

[jillmckenzie1]

Thrift Stores

When I was young and innocent and aspirational, I saw myself as having the thighs of Suzanne Somers and the intellect of Jane Goodall, with all of the virtues of Mother Teresa to garnish the image. As I’ve grown older and the rough cuticles of life have scratched away the sheen on my ideologies, I now admit to having several vices. The first of which is Bing, a delicious carbonated and caffeinated beverage with no high-fructose corn syrup that’s made right here in Denver, Colorado with natural fruit juice and containing only 40 calories per can. No, Bing doesn’t pay me for that endorsement; I’m just a happy addict. I’ve tried several times to quit, but, let’s face it, I don’t really want to. Another of my vices is what I’m going to talk about today: thrift store shopping!!

When I started performing as a burlesque character, my thrift store trips, which had once been an occasional foray with no real purpose, turned into a lifestyle. Thrift stores are sources of delight and costumes for many a performing artist. You can find things that lend authenticity to any stage persona, no matter how far from your “real” self. And let us not forget that, even in our non-performance lives, a good thrift store gives you all the satisfaction of retail therapy without permanently damaging your financial stability. It also gives you the opportunity to disguise consumerism as altruism when you spend money not to support ever-more resource and human exploitation, but to reuse things that are already manufactured and offer employment and funds to vulnerable people. Also, you get to find some really cool stuff. I currently purchase all of my clothing, except some outerwear and my undies, at thrift stores. Sure, there’s a ton of just plain junk, the sundry detritus of a consumer society, but you can definitely find high-quality, one-of-a-kind pieces if you’re willing to take the time and know where to look.

Here’s a few rules to abide by when thrifting

It has to fit…the first time.  If that silk blouse is amaze-balls, but the sleeves are just a smidge too short–you don’t get to buy it. If that wiggle dress loves your boobs, but drowns your hips in a half-yard of excess fabric–it goes back on the rack. Sure, you could pay someone to do alterations, but those will turn your $5.99 thrift-store treasure into a $75 piece that you can’t ever part with because you’ve invested six weeks of disposable income and two trips to the seamstress into it. Maybe you’re a sewing savant with crackerjack dressmaking skills and can do the alteration yourself, but it’ll take you several hours of dedicated work. And after $75 or seven hours of labor, where’s the triumph of a thrifty victory?

 Know your prices. Thrift stores offer rock-bottom pricing, but even those prices can be lower. Goodwill and ARC both offer regular half-off days and certain categories of goods are on sale on any particular day. You know you’re really becoming a thrifting when you look at a pair of stunning GAP corduroy pants in perfect condition with an MSRP of $79 and you say to yourself, “Meh, $6.99 is a little pricey. I’ll take my chances on half-off Saturday.” If you happen to have an old lady around, this is a perfect time to trot her out. Seniors get discounts every single day. Have a day date with your mom and make both her and your wallet happy! (Old men get discounts, too, but are rarely as much fun to shop with. They mostly just wait in chairs by the door and get grumpy.)

Be honest. Are you ever really going to wear that satin cocktail dress? Your brother’s never going to get married; just admit it and stop buying rehearsal-dinner dresses. You don’t need a set of 70’s-era ceramic canisters in the shape of mushrooms, no matter how adorable they are. There’s a fine line between thrifting and hoarding. Stay on the right side of it.

Hold out for quality. I’m a sucker for natural fibers like wool, silk, and leather. If something is not made from high-quality materials, I pass it over. I love a bargain, but it’s not a bargain if it’s cheap in both price and quality.

Walk away. Sometimes you peruse a thrift store and find nothing at all. And that’s ok. Don’t let the retail-therapy benefits tempt you into buying something you don’t really need or even want. Pack up your achievement-oriented mindset and come back next week.

Have fun! Thrift stores’ low prices mean that you can take a chance on that thing. Buy the open-back bandage dress and wear it out this weekend. Maybe you’ll find that it’s not your style, but, at $4.99, it cost less than a happy-hour margarita and so you can afford to have a tiny, sartorial adventure and still hand it back to the virtuous cycle of thrifting on Monday. The only caveat here is that you have to actually wear it! No stuffing it in the closet for some special occasion that never comes to pass (see point 3).

Denver has some great thrifting opportunities and they vary widely. It’s important to hit up the stores that have the stuff you want. If you thrift regularly, you’ll find stores that seem to have things that work for you. Others almost never will. I think of this as the “watershed.” You have to find the watershed where the goods that flow into the reservoir meet your needs. There are too many thrift stores on the Front Range for me to review them all, but here are a few that I frequent.

Goodwill on Broadway: This store has one person in its watershed who is my butt-doppelganger. Whoever she is buys GAP corduroys and then donates them to Goodwill so that I can buy them at 90% off retail and have perfectly-tailored pants. This has happened multiple times. Whoever you are, I offer you my thanks. I’ve also found, among other things, a gorgeous silk dress that’s totally wearable and some groovy shoes. I stop in here whenever I’m in the neighborhood.

Goodwill Lakeside: For some reason, this is the place where shoes come to me. I’ve purchased several pairs of performance and daily-wear shoes at this place. I have enormous feet that are hard to fit, so this is quite an anomaly. I’ve also purchased some high-quality stainless-steel cookware here, including a kettle for my boyfriend to make popcorn in, which delighted him endlessly. Also, silk blouses seem to appear here at regular intervals.

ARC on Iliff  For the past two years, I’ve wandered around this store in a stupor after intense cognitive behavioral therapy sessions. After draining out my emotions, pawing through racks of stuff I don’t need, but could maybe find delightful is soothing and restorative. This is when and where I’ve found a couple of genuine vintage dress-and-jacket sets, which is a style I really like. It’s taken me years of therapy to be able to make a definitive statement about what brings me pleasure and there it is. It’s small, but still significant. I accept your applause.

The Unicorn

Peak Thrift is a non-chain (which I always admire) serving the same market as the larger Goodwill and ARC stores. I have a special pursuit, a white whale, that I am continually searching for in thrift store: a curved, slotted spatula. I love this kitchen utensil and have never seen it in store or found it in any of my extensive online searches. It only comes to me through thrift stores. I have found not one, but TWO, of these unicorns at Peak Thrift. Beat that, Goodwill!

This has been an abbreviated list of both my vices and the thrifting possibilities in Denver. If you attend one of my performances, you’ll likely see more of both of these things. In the meantime, keep an eye out for me. I’m the person in line for the dressing room with way more than three items. Sorry, not sorry.

from Blog https://ondenver.com/thrift-stores/