Thrifters could never not thrift. Non-thrifters are disgusted by the entire idea: Wear someone’s old shoes? Gross.

For the record, all of my best shoes are secondhand.

The naysayers also frequently believe that the only real benefits of such an activity could be saving money and reducing waste—you can’t buy new, so you thrift.

But the real joy in thrifting is hunting for the best stuff. In short, it’s how we normal people can afford unique, high-quality items. We don’t aspire to be featured in Architectural Digest, but we want a house that makes us feel something when we walk inside.

We crave warmth, an inviting and lived-in beauty. Even in our everyday lives, we gravitate toward the old and worn.

This is why we frequent old cities, vintage car shows, cathedrals, and ancient ruins. We want the stories of objects and environments made by human hands and tossed around by time. Thrifting allows us to cultivate such an environment at home, in our clothing, and in what we carry with us. Objects that have been owned and cherished by someone else have stories, even if you don’t know them.

These objects also include the story of the place where you found them. Nearly all of the things for sale at your local Michigan thrift store are remnants of the people surrounding you. These items might cycle in and out of junk shops, but the best stuff never really leaves. Old Finnish-English dictionaries in the U.P., turn-of-the-century farming tools in the Fruit Belt, vintage Steelcase furniture in Grand Rapids.

Everything you wear or bring into your house has the potential to shine in this special way—from a wastepaper basket or a switch cover to your briefcase or handbag. But we’ve become enamored with the ever-new. Whenever something breaks or needs replacing, Amazon is the instant answer.

The problem is that, in large part, these items are all the same. Chinese industrialization means that nearly everything is now built in a giant factory and has a stark, basic, and cheap look to it. Materials are weak. Quality is not the goal. The styles lack a human touch. They cry planned obsolescence.

I bought a big wooden mirror at an estate sale for $10 recently. It’s extremely heavy and obviously old. It’s also slightly busted in several places and has some desilvering spots on the glass. I have no plans to fix it, however. These imperfections only add to its character. Its disfigurement is organic, materials leaning into the inevitable.

By contrast, I must be very careful with another mirror I bought on Wayfair that’s made of some kind of engineered wood. Were it to dent or scratch, the entire piece would be irreparably degraded.

Many brand-new product lines are aware that the handmade look sells, and they attempt to mimic it. An Amazon storefront called Jinchan makes floral embroidered linen curtains, for example. GaLouRo makes a blue and white porcelain vase. GooBloo makes handwoven baskets.

None of these items are high-quality. They’re only copies of the old, authentic pieces we naturally gravitate toward. What’s funny is that those authentic pieces themselves are probably sitting in a nearby thrift store.

Some people just can’t pry themselves away from the thrill of an Amazon box hitting their front steps. Their loss is your gain.

When thrifting, go slowly, aisle to aisle, and see what attracts you. The older the tags and brand markings, the higher the likelihood it’s made of good materials—if only because it’s made it this far without hitting the trash heap.

I always look for handmade baskets and solid wood shelves. I like to buy old mirrors and picture frames. Many of my children’s clothes were thrifted from Goodwill and Salvation Army, and we have many furniture pieces acquired from Habitat for Humanity ReStores.

Look around your home. Where does your eye land when you survey your space? Notice what you naturally skip over and what pulls you in. More often than not, old and used pieces make us linger.

Thrifting can be a way to save money and help the environment. But it may also be the very best way to upgrade the objects that surround us. Someday, someone else may own these things. And you will be a part of the story.

Faye Root is a writer and a homeschooling mother based in Northern Michigan. Follow her on X @littlebayschool.