lost my coat here, now i’m a vintage addict in flint: 4997787 stories

woke up to a ceiling fan spinning faster than my thoughts. 1.18 degrees out there. snow flurries? no. just a blanket of sorry on the windows. flint never lies. and honestly, i was low on cash and high on that ‘why not take a risks’ energy. so i wandered into this dusty thrift store called flávio’s finds. i mean, the name says it all. right?

so there i was. buying a Coors light and hoping for a miracle. the owner, this tiny woman with a nose ring and a penchant for band tees from the 90s, handed me a jacket. it was like if a rockstar threw up a denim vest and called it an ex. i flipped it on. immediately felt like i’d swallowed a dream. or maybe a comma. but hey, vintage is a comma, right?

"flávio’s is a scam, you pay $5 for a button that doesn’t even button up"

i heard this from a guy named brad who’d been here twice. also, he tried to steal a pair of ski goggles. didn’t work. flávio’s found, i think, likes to play chess with people who look suspicious. but do i believe him? no. i’ve seen him laughing while riffling through my pockets. flirty moves. low-key menace.

weather? yeah. it’s 1.18 degrees. and it’s melting into my soul. snow in my hair, regret in my heart. but that jacket? that jacket’s got a hole in the elbow. like it’s crying. or maybe it’s just developed character. you know what i mean?

seasons greetings, neighbors. if you get bored, detroit’s 20 minutes west. but honestly, flint’s got this vibe. like everyone’s stuck in a bad rom-com. and i love it. except when i’m trying to find a working flashlight. i thought i was buying a flashlight. flávio’s found sold me a rusty spoon.

"i saw a kid try to sell a watch underwater. some guy grabbed it and claimed it was a ‘drowned treasure.’ classic flávio’s"

i heard that too. from a homeless man named ben who was explainin’ it to a tourist. ben’s got a story for every jacket.

"bring cash. no plastic. flávio’s found got a policy of ‘no returns. no explanations’"

i overheard this from a group of college students who were now very confused about their life choices. they’d all bought a keychain that said "i survived the 90s". ironic.

say what you will about flint. they’ll argue it’s a dump. but maybe that’s the point. i left with three band tees, a broken spoon, and a story. or three. probably three.

and here’s the thing: flávio’s found might not be perfect. but isn’t life like that? you never know. unless you’re that guy who tried to steal ski goggles. brad’s still bitter. i think.

p.s. if you’re into this whole ‘vintage’ thing, check out their instagram. anyone can post fake reviews. trust no one. except maybe ben. he seems legit. maybe.