I Unsubscribed To My Neighborhood Nextdoor After Discovering This Thrift Store in Milford, Ohio

Growing up, my parents went to great lengths to give my brothers and me everything we needed in a way that didn't break the bank and fortunately, we lived in a town that supported this lifestyle. Milford in the '90s had its own Hostess outlet (remember those?), Thriftway, Kmart, and Big Lots—and there always seemed to be a rummage sale happening, somewhere.

As a kid, I didn't appreciate my parents' thriftiness, feeling self-conscious in my secondhand garb and ancient L.L. Bean backpack. When I became a parent, I spent way too much money on name-brand clothing and Pottery Barn furniture, reasoning these items were "investments" that could be shared with future siblings.

The thing nobody tells you about kids, though, is that they destroy everything. Wardrobe changes happen multiple times a day, to the point where I ended up dressing Julian in plain white onesies that were inexpensive and could be bleached. Most of the aesthetically pleasing wooden toys I purchased were completely dismissed by my babies, who preferred playing with the TV remote or a random kitchen gadget. And the Pottery Barn rocking chair? That got covered in spit up almost immediately, and never was the same.

As the years passed and our family grew, I adopted an "a la carte" approach to the kids, accepting hand-me-downs from friends and using Facebook Marketplace and our neighborhood Nextdoor to hunt down bigger purchases, like kids furniture and bicycles. These items were hit or miss, at best; one time I drove from Cincinnati to Columbus for an activity table only to realize it was too big for my car. (I returned the next day with a U-Haul, which absolutely negated any "deal" I'd negotiated for the table.)

During all of this time, my partner and I were sleeping on a 10-year-old mattress, our bedroom a hodgepodge of dinged-up IKEA furniture. I wanted to turn our primary bedroom into a sanctuary of mid-century modern minimalism but did not want to spend thousands (and thousands) of dollars to make this happen. I kept tabs on Nextdoor and reached out when something caught my eye, but these instances were far and few between; the antique items I saw were way too expensive, the freebies were free for a reason.

I didn't realize the answer was there all along, hiding in plain sight, like Sir Isaac's apple tree. I needed a little more prompting, though, an apple to the head.

This came on a recent afternoon as I drove past a brand-new thrift store en route to a date with my mom. The store was located in Milford's former Big Lots property; the main sign had not been changed, but smaller signposts indicated the new St. Vincent de Paul thrift shop was open. My mom confirmed this as we wandered through antique stores in Old Milford, and we made plans to check it out. (Antiquing on my 1:1 trips has been a great gateway to secondhand shopping!)

Walking into the former Big Lots on a hot afternoon sure brought back memories. I spent countless afternoons shopping at this store with my mom and two brothers. However, once inside, the space was much different from what I remembered: large and open and full of natural light. There was an order to the store that I appreciated immediately and a noticeable absence of the dust that always plagues my allergies. I found my mom looking at dinnerware and we both agreed that the selection here was awesome... as were the prices!

We made our way to the back of the store, where the furniture lived. I had a primary bedroom "mood board" of photos saved to my iPhone and was surprised to find, almost right away, pieces that fit, exactly, what I was going for, with price tags lower than anything I'd hoped to find. I snagged a sewing table, with the original Vintage Sears Roebuck Lathe Serial Number Plate, in beautiful condition, save a few water marks. I found a set of four vintage Ethan Allen dining chairs, which retail for $300 apiece on eBay, for $30. I got a '80s bedroom set—solid wood and delightfully retro—with a wardrobe and side table, for under $100, for my daughter Mary's room.

As we were leaving, I told my mom this might be my new favorite store. She smiled, "Did you see the vinyl section?" she asked? Next time! I said. We will be regulars at St. Vincent de Paul, we agreed.

It's easy to get caught up in the dopamine hit that comes with consumerism but that's always short lived, and, for me, often paired with buyers remorse. Did I need to spend $80 on that basket from West Elm? $50 on that wreath from Target? Probably not. Deeper than my pockets, though, is the unsettling feeling of wondering if I could have just found these items somewhere else, previously loved but in absolutely working condition. (I interviewed Stephanie Frias about eco travel earlier this year, but sustainability infuses Stephanie's domestic life, too. She's a big fan of thrift stores, unsurprisingly.)

At Only In Your State, we believe the detour is as much fun as the destination—you have to be open to the detour, to taking your time. This is solid life advice, really! When you lead with curiosity—whether it's hiking a different trail, trying a new restaurant, or stopping into a new thrift store en route to your mom's house—you're all but guaranteed an adventure. How fun is that?