Ropa Americana

When I first came here, one of the first things I wanted to know is where the thrift stores were. I didn't pack much when I came, for this very purpose. When I was eventually taken to a "thrift store" here, I was surprised and a bit disappointed at first glance.
I had expected to see a vast, endless sea of colors and patterns, begging me to dive in and be carried away into some secret, hidden world filled with prismatic gems of forgotten attire. However, this was not the case. The stores here are called "Ropa Americana," which simply means American Clothing. They are basically thrift stores filled with old clothing from the U.S. How it gets here and why they sell it instead of Costa Rican clothing, I have no idea- but are priced fairly well. Generally, you can buy a camiseta, or t-shirt for around 500 or 1000 mil (One or Two Dollars) depending in which section you shop. As they are still thrift stores, there are lots of gems available. I think a misconception on my part was thinking that all Latin American countries contain patterns like you would find in Guatemalan Textiles or in Mexican Serapes. I absolutely love both of those, but it is certainly a stereotype I had crushed as soon as I saw many locals not in poverty, not barefoot, and not dressed in traditional folk-wear. People here dress very much like people in the U.S., and I would say better in most cases. No PINK sweatpants, UGG boots, messy buns, gym shorts, socks and sandals, school t-shirts, etc.... Gracias a Dios. As for Ropa Americana, even though there is clothing from the U.S., I haven't seen much of the above listed trash in these stores. Lots of cool 80's and 90's tourist wear, blazers, sweaters, shorts, jeans, etc. . .but no jewelry :( . oh well.
As for the surprising bit of the ropa americana experience, there is a certain one that I love named SINAÍ or something of that nature. It was the first one I entered.

Picture this: you walk in. there is a security guard in the doorway (which you see everywhere here.) a sudden explosion of sound broadcasting from speakers throughout the two-story thrift store. An announcer screams sales, prices, brands, special deals in the style of a sports announcer, like you are there with everyone for one purpose: to conquer the fuck out of the other team by finding great looks for less. Behind the announcer's voice is an army of house music playing, occasionally sprinkled with Christian songs proclaiming "Hallelujiah! whilst a choir sings in the background. Various male employees carry garbage bags stuffed full, larger than the men carrying them, while they shout out all of the deals to yearning ears. Things seem fairly normal for a second. Okay, this looks like a thrift store from home: aisles of racks of used clothing organized in some manner, yeah. But then you discover that the back half of the store downstairs is cheaper than the front half, and you have to pay in the back half for the cheaper clothing before you can shop more in the front. And then upon coming out from the back half, you are presented with a set of stairs to your left. And are told that there are even cheaper prices upstairs, so hell yeah you go!

Upon arriving at the top of the stairs, the loft above the front half of the store, you come across something you have never seen before. Except maybe in the movie the Labyrinth, which my friend Andrea told me about and I watched with my boyfriend Dakota. If you have seen it, you are walking directly into an actual manifestation of the scene with the old junk lady. There are different "piscinas" or pools of clothing. Hills of clothing constantly being added to by the men carrying gargantuan bags of more clothing. People sitting in the middle of the pools constantly digging through constant additions for cheaper prices. I guess they are cheaper because they aren't on hangers or something?

Anyway, it's crazy, it's awesome, my wrist hurts from typing so much, and here are the clothes I've gotten so far from Ropa Americana.