Challenge Accepted: Can You Recreate Iconic Film Looks With Dollar Store Finds? It began as a drunken dare at Emma’s birthday dinner party. There were eight of us crammed into a corner booth at some aggressively industrial restaurant in Williamsburg; not surprising considering everyone was in fashion; but we’d managed to worm our way into the private basement banquet room and were halfway through bottle number two of natural wine when the banter turned; like it inevitably does among groups of fashion people; to critiquing everyone’s outfits in the new Challengers remake.
Discussion promptly devolved into who had worn the best film costumes of all time, with eight people talking over each other and passionately defending their choices. Penny was DEF rooting for Diane Keaton’s wardrobe in Annie Hall. Tara talked endlessly about films Zendaya had been in (we had to remind her she’s only been in films).
Devon, our resident vintage dealer, kept trying to argue for vintage Italian horror films from the 1960s that we’d all obviously never seen. “I bet I can pull off any iconic film outfit with thrift store clothes. Any of them,” I said sloppily into my third glass of orange juice-adjacent natural wine.
There was a pause at the table; the uncomfortable pause you take right before realising everyone has stopped talking because they fucking hate your idea. “Even this?” Tara said, leaning across the table at me while fiercely eyeing me with skepticism.
I knew she meant Cher’s yellow plaid skirt/blouse combo from Clueless.
Bonus points for her knowing my whole demeanor shifts whenever anyone brings up the colour yellow. “Oh yeah,” I said with supreme confidence that only alcohol and an audience can give you. “Bruh, you know I’d kill that look.” “Ooooh, you have to film this,” Emma cawed, already whipping out her phone. “Harper’s Thrift Store Film Challenge!” By the time we’d polished off apple crumble cake Emma had whipped up a spreadsheet titled WITH MALICE AFORETHINKING MEME THING FOR OURE PROJECT” with assignments for each film outfit, deadlines, and some sort of point system that would make zero sense when we sat down to calculate the winners but seemed extremely important at the time. I woke up the next morning to 37 group chat notifications and a lingering dread about what time-consuming bullshit project I must’ve drunkenly signed up for over dinner.
Happens every time. Honestly, that wasn’t even the stupidest thing I did that night drunk. Drum roll for….hand embroidering cocktail napkins as aPromise to Penny for her wedding!
Someone obviously put down whiskey while I was ordering dishes custom stitched with our initials. To be fair, I did end up with cocktail napkins that look like they were used to practise bad/tiny stab wounds, so….friendshipgoals? But I’m not one to back down from a challenge; especially a clothing challenge.
Growing up, my favourite Saturday afternoons were spent digging through bins of rejects in Brooklyn vintage shops with my mum while she begged me to stop ruining her credit card buying me ugly-ass cult leader-esque dresses “for creative projects.” By college, I’d graduated to dumpster diving in the back alley of new vintage stores that opened in my neighbourhood and hitting flea markets with friends when we were too poor to do anything else on the weekends. If anyone was going to dig through thrift stores and re-create iconic film outfits, it was gonna be me. Also, I wanted to prove to myself (and everyone else in that damn Williamsburg restaurant) that you didn’t need to spend hundreds of dollars on Pinterest-board inspirations from fast fashion brands when the originals are probably lying around in Goodwills across America right this second.
I decided to limit myself to recreating six iconic film outfits over the course of six weekends, giving myself a $50 budget per outfit. All thrifted clothing only from actual thrift stores, consignment shops, or church basement sales. I set explicit rules for myself that I couldn’t use Etsy, eBay, or buy anything from Instagram vintage sellers.
I was going old school and digging through actual racks of clothes. Trousers were going to get lifted, thank you very much. Of course, this also meant I was going to spend hours upon hours sweating through thrift stores, covered in secondhand germs and God knows what, but somebody’s gotta do it.
Hand sanitizer became my new best friend. OUTFIT NUMBER ONE: Cher Horowitz’s yellow plaid skirt/blouse/tomboy jumper style ensemble from Clueless. Always hated that look.
Like, a lot. Film classics normally don’t scare me, but: a) yellow is the absolute worst colour on me and b) the knee socks summoned every Tom in undergrad who saw me wear them for Halloween one year. SO many Toms.
It only seemed right to challenge myself with the hardest things first, though. Yellow plaid layering it was. Goodwill in Park Slope.
Five dollars and I had already found the perfect yellow plaid skirt, albeit a less vibrant yellow than Cher’s iconic Annies song sunshine fabric; think dijon versus French’s yellow. The skirt also was not pleated, but the flow-y A-line skirt shape gave me enough feels. The search for the yellow blazer proved far more difficult; I hit three stores looking for an oversized yellow womens blazer and came up empty.
Til I found this basic black blazer at Housing Works. Sure, it wasn’t plaid. But it was close.
And $10. Later that week, as I was digging through bins of costume jewellery at a church sale thrift store, I had a spark of DIY-ery genius. Someone had donated a childs yellow plaid backpack (GUYS IT WAS YELLOW PLAID, MARK MY WORDS THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN), and I quickly sacrificed this sad child’s backpack in the name of fashion.
I cut the backpack into squares to use as appliqué patches for the lapels and pockets of the blazer. The knee socks were easy ($2 at Ross). White blouse from my own wardrobe.
Ballet flats that weren’t too cute I own from wearing them to paint muertos skulls last year. Total Spent: $26. And a sad little kid’s backpack.
Ta-da! Again, not the EXACT. replica. More my college theatre major’s vision of Cher Horowitz doing a scene study.
But you guys. When I wore this to brunch the following week, three separate strangers yelled “As if!” at me from across the street. Success.
Photos by Emma Glassman. Total body wig kicks were next. NOT disappointed when I scored these bad boys at Goodwill for $8.
Easy Peasy Lemon Squeezy.$26 and one Instagram photo later, Challenge Numero Uno was officially complete. OUTFIT NUMBER TWO: Penny Lane’s iconic shearling jacket/tight jeans/tiny sunglassescombo from Almost Famous. This particular assignment was Devon’s fault.
She’s been trying to talk me into buying one of her vintage shop’s shearling coats for YEARS. But I knew this was gonna be a challenge. Real shearling coats, even thrifted ones, are never gonna fit in my Whole Foods-budget.
Which is exactly why I drug myself all over Manhattan on craigslist every weekend for two months trying to find a used shearling coat that wasn’t adult-sized. Nothing. TIL I remembered there’s this weird-ass warehouse thrift store out past Queens by my boyfriend’s parents’ house that I used to go to with him when we first met.
It’s literally a warehouse where they throw all their clothes they’ve collected from everywhere around New York. There are no prices. Just dollar bins, gently-used bins, and good lord please-take-my-money bins.
You literally need a tetanus shot just to step foot in that place, it’s so dusty. But if you’re lucky, and dig deep enough, you’ll find Hanes tanks for a dollar that someone clearly forgot in the bottom of their dresser and designer dresses someone thrifted and accidentally dropped off at the Salvation Army. It’s the Disneyland of thrift stores.
Three hours and a cloud of dust later I emerged from the warehouses depths with my prize: a tan suede jacket with creamy white fake shearling on the inside lining. It was definitely not green shearling, and it had probably been lived in by the 1970s *at least*. It smelled like Old Man cologne and cigarettes, but it was disproportionately perfect and only cost me five dollars.
I rushed the coat home and to my local dry cleaner, where they looked at me like I’d dropped in a live raccoon when I asked if they could shampoo it. Forty dollars and one annoying text to my dad later asking if he knew where I could “borrow” a nice coat that actually fit my ladies (*insert shady Grandma?s-house-cufflink-chest-thief voice* “Um, honey, I do think we have something in the back that’ll fit you”), my coat was restored to its former glory. Flared jeans from Beacon’s Closet ($12), black crop tee from a bin sale ($3), tiny round sunglasses from a sketchy street vendor who DEFINITELY only sold counterfeits but what are you gonna do? ($5) Swept it all together with Devon’s crochet purse to really sell that Californian roadside picnic vibe we were going for.
Off to Prospect Park we went to take photos at golden hour; and I have to say. . I kind of felt like I was the cool girlfriend following a band on the Famous tour. Photos by Emma Glassman OUTFIT NUMBER THREE: Audry Hepburn’s timeless Givenchy day dress from Breakfast at Tiffany’s.
This probably should’ve been #1 on my list. Sure it looks easy on screen, but sack dresses like that are HAZARDOUS to find in the right cut/colour WITHOUT spending more than my entire allotted budget. I resorted to hitting up high dollar neighbourhoods in Manhattan for thrift stores, thinking moneybags women may donate prettier black dresses than my usual spots were digging through.
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Boy, was I right. Strolling down the street in Murray Hill, I stumbled upon an elegant consignment shop on 86th street and immediately spotted the simple black sheath dress I knew was my soulsmate. $15, and I practically kissed the haggard sales lady thank you so much when she told me this cute black number was mine. It wasn’t the exact same cut as Audrey’s iconic honey slit-back dress, but it was close enough. $7 pearl necklace from a charity shop that sells stuff to feed stray cats or orphan children.
I couldn’t tell which, the sign was written in crayon or something. Same sunglasses as Penny Lane. Again, $5.
From probably the same person. Black gloves were $8 at a vintage shop’s sale section because they ripped at the wrist. Rocking a strawberry blonde bob wig I found online for ten dollars.
Total spent:$45. And two days of questioning my life choices. Photos by Emma Glassman.
For photo sesh we woke up at the crack of dawn and went outside the real Tiffany’s on Fifth Ave. I’m not kidding when I say security tried to escort us out right before we started snapping photos. And a group of drunk pizza restaurant employees yelling “FREE MULLAAAAAAQS?!?! ?” at us from the pavement did *not* help my case.
Luckily, one of them saw what we were doing and was THRILLED to take selfies with me, which is how I ended up with: PSA: DON’T LET CHILDREN TOUCH THESE GLASSES. OUTFIT NUMBER FOUR: Margot Robbie’s pink gingham masterpiece from Barbie. This actually wasn’t too bad!
Mostly because every Instagram thumbnail and Buzzfeed quiz I saw that Spring were plastered in pink and white cheques whether it was meant to or not. The dress was easy; pink and white checkered sundress from a church basement sale in Bed-Stuy ($6). It wasn’t as poufy as Margot’s, but hey!
It was gingham. White cat-eye sunglasses from a vintage shop’s misc accessories bowl. ($3) White headband from… me. Again.
Of the “bought these online for way too much money and wore them once” collection. I could NOT find pink mules ANYWHERE. I looked online, at every shoe store in NYC that sold ANYTHING like that, and came up empty every single time.
Target’s too expensive for this challenge, obvi. Til I found a white pair of heeled sandals at Goodwill. ($10) Then spent three hours meticulously painting them pink with this fabric paint I already owned from another disastrous dye fail. Funniest thing I’ve ever worn, but also looks like something my five-year-old would’ve made for school pride day.
On second thought, don’t wear to actual schools. But with the right filters? Trust me.
Legit. Drove to the farmers market wearing the whole getup, which promptly got me followed around by some preteens snapping pictures of me who I’m CONVINCED were calling their friends phone and were like “Mum look at that insane lady wearing Barbie clothes buying lettuce.” But also maybe THEY thought it was dope?? I’ll never know.
OUTFIT NUMBER FIVE: Mia Wallace’s polyester problem from Pulp Fiction. This one was simple, right? White button-up, black trousers.
Film iconic, sure, but anything but hard to find. WRONG. I actually struggled to find the PERFECT big-boy-white shirt with the dick-length sleeves and stiff collar that Mia wears in this film.
It’s a mens shirt!! But I eventually found it hiding in the men’s department at my local Salvation Army (*seriously, guys. Stop judging thrift shoppers*) for $4.
Black slim fit trousers from a cute little hole-in-the-wall consignment shop in Bushwick ($18). Which also conveniently sells vintage LeSportsac bags. Score.
Black ballet flats I already OWN. Cause duh. What black woman doesn’t own a pair of black ballet flats?
But WHERE was I going with this?? Ohhh yeah. Wigs.
The blonde bob wig. Haunted me. I knew going cheap in that department would bust my budget, so I reached out to my girl Tara who used to work as a photo shoot stylist (i.e. hoards old accessories she finds at thrift stores) and she let me borrow this ugly-ass black bob wig that she swear to God washed before she lent it to me.
But she wouldn’t tell me what it was previously used *for*. Okay, Tara. Keepin’ it that way works for me too.
Photos by Emma Glassman. Drew David, my neighbour/ acquaintahce but TRULY wonderful human being over to model as Samuel L. Jacksn.
Because I would 100% recreate that bathroom dance scene for Instagram needs. We both decided against reenacting the heroin scene, however. Some lines do NOT need to be crossed.
OUTFIT NUMBER SIX: Diane Keaton’s menswear feels eclectic wardrobe from Annie Hall. Because why not go full-circle and end on another vibe I rock 24/7 on weekends? Wide-leg khaki trousers from Good Peoples Vintage shop in Greenpoint ($14), oversized mens vest from Opening Ceremony off the sale rack at ABC Carpet and Home’s charity shop ($7), white button-up from Salvation Army again ($4, you guys!!) Yellow tie from a bin marked “One Dollar Each or 5 for $20” because fuck you IMD, that is not how volume sales work.
Crowned it off with a battered old brown fedora I found buried at the bottom of my mum’s box of old Halloween costumes at Goodwill. $3 and honestly probably worth way more than I paid because of how delightfully crushed it is. Photos by Emma Glassman.
Waited till literally NO ONE was around in Central Park andPhotos by Emma Glassman photographed myself leaning on tree’s and making sad “quirky girl” faces at park benches.
Also?
Probably needed to use the bathroom. Would I do the Dollar Store Film Challenge again?
In a heartbeat. Did I learn anything? That dressing like an anthropomorphic film prop from the 1980s isn’t for everyone.
But it sure is fun to try. And hey, if anyone wants to do achallenge with me where we remake iconic music video outfits, count me in. Bonus points if we start with this masterpiece.
PSA: Google “Michael Jackson Thriller Jacket” before agreeing to this challenge. I’ve gotta spend a solid month recovering before attempting to track down a cow bra to pay homage to Madonna’s Blonde Ambition tour. Some challenges are harder than others.
Especially if you have to agree to them drunk off natural wine.
