On the Belfast excursion, we nipped into the Queens campus to escape the rain. Wet, grumpy and slightly hung-over, we saw a shining light beckoning us forth. Oxfam. Right there in the heart of the campus. What an astute retail move. In a cramped corner site, rails and rails of thrifty goods glistened in the light. There was no planned shopping for the trip, but who can resist the heady charms of second-hand goods? The slight whiff of damp and the general dusty air sends many a female into ecstatics. I nabbed a pair of mushroom-grey flat ankle boots for £5 and a woolly beanie for 99p. A friend salvaged a matching hat and scarf, whilst another found brand-new knee high leather boots. I waltzed around the shop with rings on my fingers, belts around my waist, handbags on my shoulders, high on the cheap thrill of it all, but quickly realised I only had £2 left and I needed sweeties for the car journey home. Still, what a swag. I defy anyone to refrain from spending money in a second hand shop. It’s the cheap-chic shock effect.

Not Actual Swag

Not Actual Swag

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