Last weekend I dragged my husband and kids on what I called a “family adventure” but was really just an excuse to hit the charity shops in this adorable little town about an hour outside Minneapolis. You know those places that look like they were designed specifically for Hallmark movies? Well, this was one of those – complete with a main street lined with boutiques that normally would’ve been way out of my mom budget.
But here’s the thing about small wealthy towns: their Goodwills are absolutely incredible.
I’m talking about finding a practically new J.Crew blazer for fifteen dollars, still with the tags tucked inside the pocket. A pair of barely-worn Cole Haan flats for eight bucks. And – this is where I actually gasped out loud and scared another shopper – a Madewell denim jacket that I’d been coveting online for months, priced at twelve dollars when it retails for over a hundred.
My seven-year-old was tugging on my sleeve asking why mommy was making “that weird face” at a jacket, and honestly? I probably looked a little unhinged. But when you’ve been shopping secondhand out of necessity for years and suddenly stumble into what feels like a designer consignment shop disguised as a thrift store, you tend to get a bit emotional about it.
The volunteer at checkout – a sweet older woman who was probably wearing more expensive jewelry than I’ve ever owned – mentioned that they’d just received several donations from someone downsizing after moving to a retirement community. “Lovely things,” she said while carefully folding my finds into a bag. “We had a beautiful Eileen Fisher collection earlier this week, but that went so quickly.”
And that’s when it hit me: I’d accidentally discovered something that serious thrifters have known forever. Location matters. A lot.
I mean, I’ve been shopping secondhand since college when it was literally the only way I could afford anything beyond Target basics. Back then it was pure survival – stretching my tiny clothing budget by hitting every thrift store within a reasonable distance of campus. But even after I started working and could occasionally buy things full price, I kept going back. There’s something addictive about the treasure hunt aspect, you know? The possibility that today might be the day you find something amazing.
What I hadn’t realized until recently was how much the demographics of a town affect what ends up on those racks. It seems obvious now – wealthy people donate better stuff – but I’d been randomly hitting whatever thrift stores were convenient rather than thinking strategically about where quality donations might actually end up.
My friend Sarah, who somehow always looks effortlessly put-together despite having three kids and a teacher’s salary, finally let me in on her secret. She actually plans routes through specific towns based on their thrift store potential. I thought she was maybe taking it a bit too seriously until she showed up to school pickup wearing what I later learned was a practically new Anthropologie dress she’d found for eighteen dollars.
So I started paying attention. And what I discovered was fascinating.
The absolute best thrift stores seem to be in towns that are affluent but not trendy. You want places where people have money to buy quality pieces in the first place, but aren’t so fashion-obsessed that they’re selling everything on Poshmark instead of donating it. You also want areas with a lot of life transitions happening – people moving, downsizing, clearing out closets for whatever reason.
College towns are goldmines, but you have to time it right. May and August are absolutely incredible because that’s when students are moving and can’t take everything with them. I once found a practically new Patagonia puffer coat in July for twenty-three dollars that I’m pretty sure some college kid’s parents bought them and they never wore because Minnesota winters aren’t really a thing when you’re from California.
Suburbs with lots of families tend to be hit or miss – you’ll find tons of kids’ clothes and mom-appropriate pieces, but not much in terms of really special finds. Unless you’re looking for barely-worn athletic wear, in which case suburban Goodwills are perfect because apparently everyone starts a fitness journey and then donates the expensive workout clothes six months later.
But the real treasures? They’re in towns where people have what my mom would call “old money.” Places where someone’s grandmother might have a closet full of quality pieces from twenty or thirty years ago that are now being cleared out. Towns with lots of retirees who are downsizing. Areas where people buy fewer pieces but invest in better quality.
There’s this little town about forty minutes from us that I stumbled across completely by accident when we were driving back from visiting my in-laws. I needed coffee and a bathroom break, and there happened to be a tiny main street with three different charity shops within two blocks of each other. Pure coincidence, but it turned out to be this perfect storm of good donations.
The town has this mix of long-time residents with money and younger families who’ve moved there for the good schools but still commute to the Twin Cities for work. So you get donations from people who’ve lived there forever and accumulated nice things over decades, plus newer residents who might be upgrading their wardrobes as their careers advance and donating their previous professional clothes.
I’ve gone back four times now, and I’ve never left empty-handed. Found a pair of dark wash jeans that actually fit my post-kids body for eleven dollars. A wool sweater that looked like it had never been worn for seven bucks. Even a leather purse that wasn’t a designer brand I recognized but was obviously well-made and in perfect condition for fifteen dollars.
The key seems to be finding places that are just slightly off the beaten path. Close enough to civilization that people have access to good shopping when they’re buying things initially, but not so convenient that every serious thrifter in a fifty-mile radius is hitting them regularly.
I’ve also learned that certain types of communities tend to yield specific kinds of finds. Towns with lots of professional women in their forties and fifties are amazing for work-appropriate pieces – blazers, nice pants, shoes that aren’t destroyed. Areas with younger demographics skew more casual but you might find trendy pieces that people bought, wore a few times, and then moved on from.
College towns with graduate programs tend to have better professional wear than undergrad-heavy places. Makes sense when you think about it – grad students and young faculty are building professional wardrobes, while undergrads are mostly focused on looking cute at parties.
One thing that surprised me was how much seasonal timing matters. January is incredible because people are cleaning out closets after the holidays and making those “new year, new me” resolutions about decluttering. But September is also great because that’s when people are transitioning their wardrobes and realizing what they actually wore over the summer versus what just took up space in their closet.
I’ve gotten pretty strategic about it now. When I have a free afternoon – which doesn’t happen often with two kids’ schedules to manage – I’ll map out a route that hits two or three promising towns. Make it a little adventure. Sometimes I bring my mom along when she’s visiting, and she’s become surprisingly competitive about finding good deals.
The other thing I’ve learned is to not overlook the fancy charity shops in upscale areas, even though their prices are higher. Sometimes a forty-dollar “expensive” thrift store dress is still a fraction of what it would cost new, and the curation is usually much better. There’s a consignment shop in one of the wealthier suburbs here that prices things fairly high but consistently has beautiful pieces that are in excellent condition.
Of course, you have to be realistic about this whole thing. Most charity shop trips yield nothing exciting – just the usual selection of fast fashion and worn-out basics. The amazing finds are rare enough that they feel genuinely special when they happen. But that’s part of what makes it fun, right? It’s like a lottery ticket that costs gas money instead of cash.
My husband thinks I’m slightly crazy for driving thirty minutes to browse through other people’s discarded clothes, but he’s stopped complaining since I started coming home with things that make me feel good about how I look. And honestly? In a phase of life where so much of my identity feels wrapped up in being someone’s mom, having this little hobby that’s just mine feels important.
Plus, my clothing budget goes about three times further now than it did when I was buying everything new. Which means I can actually experiment with styles and pieces that I might not have risked full price on. Found out I really like midi skirts through a seven-dollar thrift store purchase. Discovered that I can pull off slightly more structured blazers than I thought through a fifteen-dollar experiment.
The environmental aspect feels good too, even though I’ll admit that’s not my primary motivation. But knowing that I’m giving clothes a second life instead of contributing to the demand for new fast fashion… that’s a nice bonus on top of the budget benefits and the treasure hunt excitement.
I’ve started keeping a little list on my phone of the towns and shops that have been most successful, along with notes about what types of things I tend to find where. Probably more organized than necessary, but when you only have limited time for this kind of thing, efficiency matters.
The funny thing is, some of my best finds have come from completely random stops in unremarkable places. That Madewell jacket? Found it in a tiny thrift store attached to a church in a town I’d never heard of, where I only stopped because we needed gas and the kids were getting cranky in the car.
So maybe the real secret isn’t just about finding the perfect demographic conditions. Maybe it’s about staying open to possibilities and making time for those spontaneous detours when life allows it. Though I still maintain that wealthy small towns with good schools and lots of retirees are your best bet for consistent quality finds.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go plan next weekend’s “family adventure.” I heard about a promising little town with four charity shops and excellent coffee. For research purposes, obviously.
Taylor’s a Minneapolis mom rediscovering her style between school runs and snack time. She writes about fashion that survives real life—affordable, comfortable, and still cute. Her posts are for moms who want to feel good without pretending motherhood is effortless.
