I’ve Been Shopping for Clothes at Home Stores (And You Should Too)

Okay, so I need to tell you about possibly the most embarrassing fashion moment I’ve had in recent memory, and trust me, there have been several contenders. I’m at this industry event last month – nothing too fancy, just a local Portland fashion mixer, but still the kind of thing where you want to look like you know what you’re doing. I’m wearing what I thought was this incredible vintage silk blouse I’d found at an estate sale in Sellwood. Ivory silk with these delicate embroidered flowers around the collar, the whole thing just screamed “effortless vintage chic” in a way that made me feel like I’d really nailed it for once.

I’m talking to this buyer from one of the nicer department stores downtown, feeling pretty good about myself, when she stops mid-conversation and goes, “Oh my god, I love your top! I have that exact same pattern on my dining room tablecloth.”

I’m sorry, what now?

“Yeah, from that home goods place on Hawthorne. They have the most beautiful linens from France. I bought a whole set for my dinner parties.”

Y’all. I was wearing a tablecloth. Someone had taken an actual dining room tablecloth, cut it up, added some buttons, and turned it into a blouse. And I’d paid sixty dollars for it at what I thought was a curated vintage shop.

After I got over wanting to disappear into the floor (and honestly, the blouse still looked amazing regardless of its tablecloth origins), I became kind of obsessed with this discovery. Like, if someone could turn a tablecloth into something that good, what other textile crossover opportunities was I missing?

Turns out, I was missing a lot.

The home goods store the buyer mentioned became my first stop in what I can only describe as a fashion education I never saw coming. Walking into those spaces with different eyes – not looking for throw pillows or candles, but actually examining the textiles as potential clothing – it’s like discovering a whole parallel shopping universe that’s been hiding in plain sight.

That gorgeous linen throw that’s perfectly sized to become a wrap skirt? Forty-five dollars. The hand-blocked cotton napkins that would make incredible pocket squares or bandanas? Twelve dollars for a set of six. The vintage grain sacks with the most beautiful faded typography that could become the perfect oversized tote? Thirty-eight dollars each.

I started asking around, and it turns out this isn’t some weird thing I accidentally stumbled onto. Fashion people have been quietly shopping home stores for years, they just don’t talk about it much because, you know, trade secrets and all that.

“I haven’t bought a scarf from an actual fashion store in maybe two years,” my friend Chloe tells me when I bring this up. She’s a stylist who works with some of the cooler boutiques in town, so I figure she might have insights. “Home stores have better textiles, better prices, and way more interesting patterns. Why would I pay ninety dollars for a silk scarf when I can get a vintage textile for thirty and it’s twice the size?”

She shows me this incredible wrap she’s wearing – looks like something you’d find at a fancy boutique for at least a hundred and fifty dollars. “Tablecloth from an antique home store in Hood River. Cost me twenty-two dollars and I get compliments on it literally every time I wear it.”

I mean, apparently tablecloths-as-fashion is more of a thing than I realized.

Once you start looking at home stores through this lens, you can’t unsee it. All those beautiful textiles just sitting there, priced as home goods instead of fashion, waiting to be reimagined. And honestly? The quality is often way better than what you’d get in clothing stores at similar price points.

My next expedition was to this import place downtown that I’d walked past a million times but never really paid attention to. They specialize in textiles from Morocco and Turkey, lots of hand-loomed stuff with incredible texture and these perfectly imperfect irregularities that you just can’t get from machine production.

“We get fashion people in here all the time,” the owner tells me when I explain what I’m doing. “There’s this one designer who comes in before every collection and buys our vintage indigo pieces. Half her line is inspired by textiles she found here.”

The pricing difference is honestly kind of shocking when you think about it. A beautiful hand-woven cotton throw might be sixty dollars in the home section, but take that same amount of fabric and turn it into a jacket or dress and suddenly it’s three hundred dollars in a boutique. The markup on fashion is insane compared to home goods, even when you’re talking about literally identical materials.

Of course, unless you’re looking at things that can work as-is – scarves, wraps, kimonos, that kind of thing – you’re gonna need some help transforming these textiles into actual wearable clothes. This is where having a good tailor becomes essential, and let me tell you, finding someone who’s willing to work with your weird vintage grain sack jacket dreams is its own adventure.

I got lucky with Mrs. Chen, who runs a tiny alterations shop near my apartment. When I brought her a gorgeous indigo textile I’d found and asked if she could make it into a jacket, she didn’t even blink. “Sure, no problem. Come back next week.”

A hundred and fifty dollars later (plus the forty I’d paid for the original textile), I had this incredible boxy jacket that looked like something from an expensive sustainable fashion brand. The first time I wore it, three different people asked where I got it, including someone who guessed it was from this designer whose pieces usually run like four hundred dollars minimum.

Not everything works, obviously. I learned the hard way that upholstery fabrics are usually too stiff for clothing unless you’re going for a very specific structured look. Also, some of these beautiful textiles are just too delicate for regular wear – I found this amazing vintage lace tablecloth that would have made an incredible top, but it was so fragile it probably would have disintegrated the first time I tried to wash it.

But when it works, it really works. And there’s something about wearing these pieces that feels different from regular clothing shopping. Maybe it’s knowing that you’re wearing something truly unique, or maybe it’s the satisfaction of having figured out this system that most people don’t know about, but these home-goods-turned-fashion pieces consistently get more compliments and questions than anything else in my closet.

The crossover potential goes beyond just textiles, too. I’ve started looking at home accessories with fashion eyes – those ceramic beads sold as decorative objects make incredible necklaces with a little creativity. Curtain tassels become earrings. Even some of the brass hardware can work as statement jewelry if you’re into that kind of thing.

What I love most about this whole discovery is how it’s changed the way I think about shopping and getting dressed. Instead of just buying whatever’s trending or looks good on Instagram, I’m thinking more creatively about materials and possibilities. It’s made me way more intentional about purchases, partly because transforming textiles into clothes takes time and effort, so you really have to love something to commit to the process.

Plus, there’s something satisfying about the sustainability aspect. These textiles already exist, they’re not contributing to overproduction, and often they’re made using traditional techniques that create better quality than most modern clothing manufacturing. When people ask about sustainability in fashion, this feels like an actual answer instead of just buying expensive things with “ethical” labels.

The hunt itself has become half the fun. I’ve got a running list of home stores to check out, and I’ve started planning weekend trips around textile shopping as much as regular tourist stuff. There’s this place up in Hood River that specializes in vintage European linens, and another spot in Eugene that has incredible Japanese textiles. Even regular chain stores sometimes have hidden gems if you know what to look for.

My current obsession is this antique store that has a whole section of vintage workwear textiles – old grain sacks, canvas, stuff that was originally made for practical use but has the most incredible patina and character. The owner says most people buy them for rustic home décor, but I keep seeing jacket potential everywhere.

I’ve definitely made some mistakes along the way. Bought things that looked amazing in the store but were completely unwearable as clothing. Overestimated my own sewing skills more than once. Underestimated how much good tailoring would cost. But even the failures have been educational, and honestly, most of the textiles were cheap enough that failed experiments don’t feel like major financial disasters.

The whole thing has made me realize how artificial the boundaries between different types of retail really are. Textile is textile, craftsmanship is craftsmanship, and good design is good design regardless of whether something’s originally intended for your body or your dining room table.

I’m probably never going back to shopping for clothes the normal way, at least not exclusively. Why would I pay designer prices for mass-produced fabrics when I can find unique, high-quality textiles for a fraction of the cost and have them turned into exactly what I want?

Plus, I’ve got to admit, there’s something really satisfying about the reactions these pieces get. When someone compliments my jacket and I get to tell them it started life as a vintage French grain sack, their expression is always priceless. Fashion people especially seem to love the resourcefulness and creativity aspect of it.

The only downside is that now I can’t walk past any home store without going in to check their textile situation, which has definitely added time to my regular errands. Also, my apartment is starting to accumulate a lot of beautiful fabrics that I haven’t figured out what to do with yet, but I guess that’s a good problem to have.

If you’re thinking about trying this yourself, start small – look for things that can work as scarves or wraps without any modification, just to get a feel for shopping textiles with fashion eyes. Once you start seeing the possibilities, trust me, you’ll be hooked. Just maybe don’t tell everyone about your best sources right away. Some secrets are worth keeping, at least for a little while.