Just a small part of a big problem

I love my closet. I was ashamed but dammit, I'm proud! I've worked on my collection for 16 years and add pieces almost daily. I'm completely and utterly obsessed with over the top prints, anything gauzy,dreamy,fantasy,glamorous,feminine,floaty,angelic,ethnic,hand-made,craft,lived in, loved, with a history, past, story, previous life, or life of its own. My grandfather is a packrat and when I was little I remember I couldn't wait for him to take a nap so I could look through all of the crazy things he acquired. It was heaven for a nosy kid like me. I think thats when that urge to uncover and discover somebody else's weird old stuff was born. It was euphoria. Then in 7th grade we moved to the pseudo-ghetto (it would become a full fledge ghetto a few years later, but anyway, i digress.......)anyway, there was a St.Vincent de Paul thrift store within walking distance. At 15 (still in the ghetto), I started going to clubs, sneaking out, the usual teen angst stuff and I needed to dress. Drag queens and Charytin were my idols and I wanted to imitate their sparkle. So my mom would give me $5 dollars every friday and I'd go buy an outfit at the SVDP. $5 bucks would buy you a shiny 70s seashell print Robert David Morton maxi dress and a gently used wig. Ewwww, you say? Well all of the donations came from the well to do ladies of Inverarry which was "on the other side of the tracks". They'd drive over to the dark side in their big Buicks and drop off bags of glamorous 60s and 70s dresses, jewels and loads of slouchy, leather studded bags and fur coats. Ugghhhh, just thinking about it gives me palpitations. Anyway, so I found all of the thrift stores within a 20 mile radius, and voila! a shopping disorder was born. I can vividly recall finding Pucci dresses and Dior bags when I was 16 at this one huge thrift store up the street from my mom's house. It was no big deal, there was loads of it and nobody wanted it. I remember the day I found this 2 piece yellow boucle outfit. It was very 70s disco dolly and it had the most amazing tag, Got the Hots by Wendy Watts. Holy mother of vintage dust fumes! I think that was the first time I got hit by cupid's arrow and wanted to dance in the aisles. It was so special. I could just see the girl who wore it, with her Farrah Fawcett hairdo, big wooden dolly platforms, glossy cherry lips on her way to the disco. Sadly, I sold that outfit a few years later during a trip to NY to a vintage wolf (who shall remain nameless). It was my own fault for deciding to jump on a plane to go to Vinyl and see Louie Vega, but anyway....a few months back I was at one of my favorite Salvation Army stores, and lo and behold, what do I find? Thats how the mysterious powers of the holy vintage mother of Guadalupe and thrift store saints works. I have so many stories like that, that I will share as time goes on. Anyway, I just wanted to introduce myself and find others who share the same affliction.