nevşehir thrift score: where the ghosts of fabrics past whisper deals
the minute i stepped off the bus in nevşehir, the cold hit me like a slap. not just cold-wet wool cold, the kind that seeps through your thrift-store scarf and settles in your bones. checked the weather app: cold. so cold it feels like the numbers are lying. humidity’s high, so every breath is a tiny fog. perfect for digging through piles of old *denim in shops that smell like soot and history.
i’m here as a vintage clothes picker, which means i follow rumors like bloodhounds. someone told me at the kahve (emphasis on the ‘e’, not ‘a’) that the best stuff hides in the cave hotel turned thrift store behind the otogar. 'ask for hasan,' they said, 'but bring çay and patience.' i did. hasan’s shop was a labyrinth of racks, each one a different decade, each jacket holding the ghost of some Cappadocian shepherd. i scored a seventies leather jacket with a mysterious stain (wine? blood? who cares) for next to nothing. score.
if you get bored, goreme and urgup are just a twenty-minute dolmuş ride away-they feel like entering a different century, all fairy chimneys and underground cities. but nevşehir itself? it’s the real deal, no balloons clogging the sky. i heard from a backpacker in a hostel that the tourist-focused shops in goreme mark up wool by triple digits. 'go to nevşehir for deals, goreme for photos,' she slurred over rakı. solid advice.
the weather here is a personality its own. one minute clear, next minute a sandstorm of cold that makes your eyes water. pack layers. serious. i learned the hard way when my knitwear turned into a sweater of ice. not cute.
overheard at the bazaar: 'the man with the blue door sells linen from the twenties, but he’ll try to convince you it’s from the nineteenth century. smile, haggle, walk away.' i did. got a tablecloth for next to nothing that probably saw a wedding or two. check yelp for 'hasan’s hidden vintage'-it’s a hole-in-the-wall with stellar reviews from nomads.
the cold also means fewer tourists, which is a win for thrifters. you have the shops mostly to yourself, and the locals are more willing to chat. i met an old woman who showed me her grandmother’s loom. she didn’t sell anything, but the view from her window? worth the freezing walk.
if you crave bigger city chaos, kayseri’s a bus ride away, but it’s all concrete and no caves. stick around for the rock formations that look like toasted marshmallows at sunset. i took a dolmuş to açıksaray just to see the old churches carved into cliffs. mind-blowing.
final tip: bring cash. so many places here don’t take cards, and the atm fees are highway robbery. pressure’s steady-no sudden storms. but that humidity means your leather might get stiff. leave it to breathe.
pro move: ask your cave hotel owner about dusting rituals. some old families still practice them, and you might score a kilim as a gift. just be respectful. this isn’t a tourist trap; it’s someone’s ancestors’ home.
links: tripadvisor’s guide to nevşehir’s non-tourist eats, the local forum where i got the hasan tip, atlas obscura’s hidden cappadocia list. and yeah, i heard the ghost of a weaver* in that blue-door shop. probably just the wind. probably.