It is a cold first evening of January. Attorney Vereira takes a sip of coffee and a deep breath before opening her old journal. It was exactly ten years ago today that she wrote her first entry, and she hasn’t reread it since. She figured tonight is the night she’ is finally ready to walk down the memory lane and see how far she has come.
"Dear Diary,
Yesterday was the last day of my second year in college, and last night, I did something life-changing. I had only one performance task left to finish—, and it was due today. But instead of starting it, I made the spontaneous decision to go thrifting instead.
My sister, who is lucky enough to be enjoying Christmas break earlier than I am, informed me that a baratilyohan was already setting up at the town center—only a 15-minute walk from home. With excitement, I told her we should go immediately. She said it was a bad idea that late at night, but I insisted. Soon enough, she budged and took the bike, trying to match my pace as I walked. The journey to the baratilyohan began.
With every step I took, I thought about turning back. Running back home, even. I knew very well that for every second I ignored the task, I was doomed to get a failing grade. But despite the guilt and hesitation, we arrived at the destination at last.
Where I live, holidays aren’t complete without baratilyohans. A baratilyo pertains to a cheap item, a bargain, or a sale. Hence, a baratilyohan is a place where you can find and bargain for secondhand items sold at low prices. As someone obsessed with thrifting, it’s my go-to place.
When I stepped into the bustling atmosphere of the baratilyohan, a strange feeling possessed me. From that moment forward, my worries about the task vanished as if they never existed. That night, I felt truly liberated for the first time.
Racks and piles of clothes stole my attention. Although items at the baratilyohan can range from shoes to kitchen utensils to toys, I am always captivated solely by clothes. Thrifted clothes are more likely to be vintage, and vintage clothing is the reason for my love of thrifting, aside from the sustainability.
However, this thrifting night was odd. A hundred different items and a whole lot of digging later, I realized that much time had passed and I still hadn't found anything I loved enough to buy. My sister was already satisfied with the two pairs of shorts and the blouse she bought; she wanted to go home. I decided to check once more—on the racks this time, instead of the piles.
Among the selection, one particular shirt caught my eye immediately, mainly because it was violet. The perfect shade of violet. I took it off the rack, hanger and all. It was a beautiful empire top with a round, open neckline and a black lace layer on the upper part. The lower hem was a beautiful lettuce stitch, and the short sleeves were puffed. It even had a tiny black ribbon in the center. I whispered, 'holy fuck.' That’s when I knew the search was over; I was ready to head home happily with one perfect thrifted shirt.
We arrived home at almost midnight, and I fell asleep immediately from exhaustion. The next morning, I woke up late for school, and that’s when it hit me. It was too late to start the task, let alone submit it."
It was a strange journal entry, but Vereira still remembers that night vividly. She was a burnt-out overachiever who turned into a laid-back learner. She was still the girl who loved learning, but her grades weren't perfect anymore. Nonetheless, she was, without a doubt, liberated and happier than ever.
Tonight, she sits on the balcony of her own house, coincidentally wearing the same violet empire top she thrifted that night. Every time she is reminded of what happened, she laughs at the funny ways life unfolds. She used to be so chained by the pressure and expectations of being the "perfect" student that she forgot the real essence of living. It’s not the pursuit of perfect grades—it could be discovering the perfect shirt in the perfect shade of violet. Fulfillment is in contentment, not perfection.
