by Donna R. Phillips    

Before it became trendy, I shopped at thrift stores. My parents saved money buying our clothes at Goodwill stores, and I continued to shop at thrift stores as an adult.

During a trip my husband and I took to England, we explored the British equivalent, Oxfam charity shops. At an Oxfam in Cambridge, I found a navy blue Marks & Spencer pullover sweater, which the British call a “jumper.” While standing in line to buy the sweater, a feeling came over me that the previous owner had worn it during a depressing event and that I would wear the sweater on a sad occasion. By the time I waited in a long queue at the register, the strength of the premonition had dissolved.

Fashion changes rapidly, and thrift stores are the historical depositories of fashion trends. While thrifting I sometimes discover quirky outfits and imagine the creative people who owned them. Most thrift stores have a selection of prom dresses in jeweled colors of ruby, emerald, and sapphire. In stark contrast, there are also prom dresses in pale watercolor shades that are only suggestions of colors. The secrets of those special evenings still cling to the rhinestones, sequins, and bows of these dresses.

Wedding gowns usually reside at the back of the stores, their grand debuts now only ethereal memories. In this ghostly gathering of white, buff, and ivory, the gowns create a creamy palette, their long, gossamer veils spilling onto the floors, whispering their past triumphs to one another.

My mom once bought a dark green, satin robe with bell-shaped lace cuffs that had an exclusive label at her favorite thrift store. A month later, she donated it. She said that after she washed and wore the robe for the first time, it made her feel sad. She sometimes predicted things before they happened, and we became accustomed to her ability to sense what others could not. My mom said each time she wore the robe, she felt the woman who owned it had lived at a convalescent home and was neglected by her family. The woman must have brooded while wearing it because she could not divest the robe of its depressing vibes even though she washed it several times. Apparently water, detergent, and the washer’s agitation do not dispel strong emotions that can become trapped, haunting the material and threads that hold garments together.

A few years ago, I bought a black velvet coat from a vintage shop in Claremont. It had a stylized Bullock’s Los Angeles label from the late 1950s or early ‘60s. I put it on and felt a very positive vibe, as though the previous owner had a bubbly, adventurous personality. I bought the coat, and still feel her enthusiasm for life inhabiting the fabric.

Four years after our trip to England, I was in Portland, caring for my oldest sister and waiting for my family to arrive from California. The hospital had facilities for families, so I decided to shower once my siblings arrived. While rapidly showering, I suddenly felt what I can only describe as a jolt of electricity passing through me, which I knew was my sister’s spirit. Without drying off, I frantically pulled wrinkled clothing over my wet skin and ran down the hospital corridor.

A nurse was listening to my sister’s diminishing heartbeats when I ran into the room. My husband, another sister and I stood mutely at her bedside as the serene presence of death wrapped itself around us. Gradually, I became aware of the blue sweater clinging to my still-wet skin. Then I remembered the premonition I experienced about the sweater four years earlier in England while standing in line at the Oxfam charity shop.

These experiences taught me two important lessons: the first, intensely positive and negative feelings people experience can sometimes permeate our garments, leaving an emotional residue. The second, premonitions shouldn’t be dismissed just because they are fleeting, and we should honor ourselves by paying attention to them.

And the blue sweater I bought in England? Just as my mother did with the green robe, it was donated.

Claremont resident Donna R. Phillips’ book “Among the Reeds and Other Stories of the Supernatural,” is available on Amazon.