I grew up in a suburb 40 minutes deep into the sprawl of Sydney. Nothing but golf, primary education and religion happened there. Except, we had two of the raddest op-shops in all of Sydney. Located on the Pacific highway next to the train station, these cluttered stores seemed intravenously connected to the dusty closets of every pensioner in the area who'd been meaning to throw out their old glad-rags for decades. Op-shopping in the 90s was the best, the old ladies who staffed the stores had an eye for 'nice things' from the 50s, 60s and 70s, but would probably be dead before '2nd hand' was re-branded as 'vintage.'
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