Meredith wants me to post this as a tribute to a certain elementary school teacher of ours who probably would have worn it to class with sequined stirrup leggings. (We kid because we love.) But even she wouldn't have skinned a zebra, a tiger, and a leopard and sewn their hides together into this heinous "shirt."
These are sort of like what happens in Maine when we're right in between winter and spring. But we can't decide what to call them. Help!
I've been saving this extra special post for Easter because it makes me envision springtime, church, and virgins. Please note that Jillian and I found it hidden amongst the regular dresses in Ellsworth, not in the Satin-and-Chiffon-Oh-Please-Kill-Me-Now Bridal Gown Extravaganza currently being held in Brewer.
It looks like a little girl's First Communion dress, yes? And in that context, it's super cute. But only for an extra husky seven-year-old (written with respect; I myself am no Barbie doll), because it is in fact a women's size 20. I'm thinking it could work for a demure [adult] bride who likes herself a nice modesty vest. Gotta cover up those arms until the weddin' night! No really, I've seen actual second-graders show more skin at their actual First Communions.
Say hello to Mannequin Julia Roberts and Mannequin Ted Danson from the aforementioned Gag Me With Tuelle Wedding Show in Brewer. (What? They totally look like Jules & Ted!) They time traveled here from the early '90s, and they think that dress is fugly too.
On a separate note, I've been posting here a little under two weeks, and you guys have already given this little blog over 1,000 page views. Thank you muchly, and keep the pictures coming!
As if Auguste Rodin's Thinker sculpture hanging from a Marden's shelf wasn't enough of a wtf moment, the middle Thinker appears to really want to show us his crack. Thank Christ their junk is kinda blurry.
More of a modern art person? Andy Warhol's prints of Marilyn Monroe's lips will protect your cocktails from leaving unsightly rings on your coffee table. Okay, for real--I would totally buy these for $3. They probably sell them at the MOMA gift shop for $35.
Boomerangs in Jamaica Plain is kinda like Goodwill: secondhand stuff that's sometimes amazing, sometimes utter crap, and often laughable. And every purchase benefits the Aids Action Committee. Despite Boomerangs lofty purpose, I'm still going to make fun of it.
No, it's not from Marden's, but it might as well be. And as my good friend Zach pointed out, Boomerangs and Goodwill kind of go a level up on Marden's: not only has some misguided company manufactured this product, someone actually bought it, kept it for a little while, and then finally decided it wasn't for them. Today, we have (I'm guessing?) a fat people chip-and-dip bowl.
And a beer guzzler helmet. I'm sensing a theme here.
Have you ever wondered to yourself, "geez, I could really use some assless chaps"? Well, Marden's in Ellsworth has you covered. (Or partially covered, as the case may be.) The red heels, to complete the emsemble, were $1. We bought the heels. Obviously.
But wait! Haven't you always wanted to take your toddler on the motorcycle with you?
Leather motorcycle jacket, size 6x, for your badass kiddo.
My love affair with Marden's has undergone several phases. As a kid in the '80s, it was the place I never wanted to be seen with my parents but secretly loved because I could find cool stuff there and actually convince my parents to let me get it. By the time I hit high school, I became resolved that all my friends shopped there anyway, so I might as well suck it up and admit I loved it. (This admission was aided by my brother's employee discount during his high school-long tenure in the Marden's hardware department. It didn't hurt that the discount encouraged my folks to spring for an ever-so-slightly scratched hot tub.) I furnished my UMaine dorm room with a cheap futon from Marden's and bought my first set of real, non-plastic dishes for my first real, post-college apartment. Today, it's a combination of campy fun and necessity--seriously, who could turn down a pair of shoes for $4? Not this lady.
Marden's, for those uninitiated non-Mainers, is a large warehouse of surplus and salvage items at heavily discounted prices. You can buy beds, sofas, craft supplies, department store cast-offs, slightly irregular designer jeans, kitchenware, hardwood floors, closeout books, nonperishable food items, and, well...a bunch of other stuff. And, most recently, wedding gowns. Yup. If only I were getting married so I could say, "I got my wedding gown at Marden's for fifty bucks." (Don't feel too bad; I bought a strapless ball gown instead. Why? Because it was $25!)
But also, there's the fugly. Oh, the fugly. The faux-fur vests, spangled tube tops, and nicked ceramic figurines that populate Marden's sticky shelves, their orange price tags layered over with each price cut and deeper discount in a prolonged effort to UNLOAD all that crap. Sure, some people actually buy it--my dear, departed great-grandma's collection of porcelain jewelry boxes, gold-painted Virgin Mary plant pots, and oversized muumuus was unparalleled. Every Marden's trip (I average about one a week), there's something that makes me wonder aloud, who even manufactures this shit, let alone buys it? Recently, I decided to start documenting the adventure. Hope you join me!