Confessions of a cheapskate

Let me share a secret with you: Thirty dollars does not go far when it comes to buying furniture. Shocking, I know. But such is the lesson I rather unpleasantly learned today.

I'm a cheapskate. I freely admit it. I think a sandwich should cost no more than three dollars, and you should be able to buy a decent couch for twenty. I switch browsers when I reach my monthly online reading limit for The New York Times just so I don't have to buy a subscription, and my favorite coffee place is my favorite mostly because their regular coffee is fifty cents all day. I'm not a picky eater and I frequently buy clothing from Goodwill. But when it comes to furniture, I have fairly expensive tastes. And because I'm a cheapskate, I don't want to pay for what expensive tastes demand.

I blame Pinterest in part for my tastes. Populated in large part by successful interior designers, my Pinterest feed is constantly piping West Elm and Joss and Main into my inbox. The products are beautiful: glossy white parsons desks that seem to show up in every. home. office. photo; slim, taut, sofas that are a complete 180 from the slouchy, overstuffed microsuede affairs of man caves and frat houses; and cool, ropy "poufs" that would be perfect as an ottoman, seat or side table.

Is it too much to ask that my office look like this?
Image via Live Creating Yourself.

My problem is that I want SixThreeNine to look like a page out of The Everygirl, and the best I can do right now is one worn Target futon and two Walmart bookshelves. No yellow chevron area rug, no burlap throw pillows, and no industrial pipe and reclaimed wood dining table. 

Even my beloved thrift stores can't help me with this one. Today I spent two hours at Ultimate Consignment only to discover that the only thing I could afford there today was this beautiful carved purple armchair — which I WILL own eventually — and that even the cheapest desks were going to be about twenty dollars more than I could afford. Forget finding a dresser or a kitchen table for under one-fifty, and don't even think about bargaining for anything with the word "vintage" on its label. College students furnishing their first house don't buy vintage.

O, beautiful square white sofa, I pine for thee.
Image via The Everygirl.

So for now it's back to daily scouring of Craigslist for anything with even the slightest of DIY potential. Ikea desks, dressers from the Seventies and mattresses still in their original plastic are all fair game at this point.