The Missoula Vintage Market

9/21/23

Missoula, MT

Fall seems to be well on its way to Missoula. Dramatic skies hung over the small city and dropped rain occasionally onto pedestrians, now in their coolest coats. I woke up slowly, hesitant to peer out of my warm nest inside the van and out onto the damp morning.

My first stop of the day way to meet Jacob, an old family friend, currently in his Sophomore year, at the Liquid Planet by UM. In talking, our conversation eventually came around to this very blog, likely in an attempt to update Jacob on the various aspects of my current life. In response, he mentioned happening upon his math professor’s personal blog, though completely unknown to him. The professor’s blog, some 10 years more extensive than my own, gave me some inspiration for what could be. It looked more like what you’d expect from someone his age, but with a little more personality to it. Like a Facebook page without the unnecessary links and other distractions. Some long sets of photos with little to say, and some more written out. It made me think of the concept of a social media for no one in particular. Private, perhaps.

A particular post caught my attention. One about a bike trip though parts of Alaska, notably onto a regional ferry. Something about it seemed romantically adventurous, somehow more so than anything I was up to. It made me want to write more, and inspired to seek out more adventure.

Having ordered a second cup of coffee for the day while at the Liquid Planet, I was now experiencing a rather mind-numbing caffeine high. After calling my mom, I drove the van to the Missoula Public Library to meet back up with Hannah. Having lost all interest in my one task for the day of insulating the van, I proposed we explore downtown on foot in search of thrift store.

The city was quieter then on previous days, with less people on the streets. Most likely due to the weather. But by now we were starting to recognize streets and establishments from our previous outings. Wanting to avoid using my phone, I stopped in a gift shop to ask for directions.

Pointed in the direction of a handful of vintage stores (similar but not exactly the same experience as thrifting), and with the caffeine in my brain hitting its peak, the next two hours passed as extremely overwhelming, however marginally inspiring.

Every place we went into had an enormous, by my standards, selection of hats, boots, reinforced pants, and vintage jackets. Everything a Los Angeles cowboy-influenced fashion boy would want. By the third store I figured I must be failing the dirtbag test a couple times over, drooling over $150 boots and overalls.

The unfortunate side-effect of thrift shopping, especially in the boutique vintage variety, and while high on something similar to caffeine, at least for me, is that my self-image can get a little carried away. Who do I want to be? What does that person look like? Will this help me look like the person I want to be? Should I adjust to be the type of person who would wear that? How much should canvas work pants be worth? Why don’t they put a price tag on these work pants? Am I supposed to ask them for a price?

Luckily, I walked away only buying a book and some earrings.

What occurred to me back at the library was how quickly I had gotten used to this new style of living. The decision of whether to buy insulation material or go thrift shopping required so much thought that I’d forgotten that I don’t have a job, and that my life feels the freest it’s ever been. And whether or not it looks to an observer like a grand adventure or a waste of time, it’s been my dream for quite some time to do exactly this.

And what occurred to me later, as I justified buying a new charger for my laptop, is that I love to write. So maybe it will take a little while for the formatting to work itself out, but I hope that these pieces bring you as much joy as they bring me.