Annie Korzen - Bargain Junkie: Living the Good Life on the Cheap

T he market goes up, the market goes down. Were in a boom, were in a recession, were in a depression. Were told to live richly, were told to spend cautiously. None of this economic seesaw has ever affected me because Ive been a thriftaholic all my life.

I was brought up in a Bronx railroad flat by poor immigrants. My mother would use a tea bag, then squeeze it dry, hang it up, and use it again the next day: I hated her for this. My father was a tailor, and he made all my clothes: I hated him for this.

I wanted to live like my friends, with spacious homes, trendy outfits, and all the other trappings of middle-class American life. Most of all, I wanted fresh tea bags. I enjoy those pleasures now, but I have learned to respect my parents frugality.

I rarely buy anything that hasnt been pre-worn, pre-used, or pre-loved. Im such a compulsive reuser that when Im in a restaurant and see the anorexic girl at the next table leaving a pile of food on her plate I have to fight the impulse to say, Excuse me, but if youre not going to finish that, would you mind passing it this way?

My thrifty (thrifty, not stingy; stingy is nasty) lifestyle has allowed me to have a comfy home filled with objects of value (the most valuable object being my Danish husband, Benni, and he was also pre-loved; I would never get a husband retail). Ive also managed to educate my child, travel all over the world, and give the occasional dinner party. I try not to do this last one too often. If God had wanted people to cook, she wouldnt have invented restaurants.

What my bargainista philosophy has not allowed me to do is to own a $150,000 Birkin crocodile and diamond bag, or even a measly low-end $9,000 Birkin bag. Somehow, I dont feel Ive missed much. Im perfectly happy with my lightweight, washable, silver Sportsac. I got it on eBay for twelve bucks.

Acquiring Stuff

T heyve done some scientific studies recently on the causes of happiness. (I guess theyre looking for a cure.) It seems that it doesnt come from wealth or celebrity. Happiness comes from spending time with friends and family: people you care about and who care about you. Personally, Id rather be rich and famous, and while Im waiting for that to happen Im lucky enough to have a lot of love in my life. But luv, shmuv: my name is Annie, and Im a shopaholic.

Years ago, I was at a dinner party in New York and I was talking to Garrison Keillors then-wife. She was Danish, and she told me how insulted she was that her new American friends invited her to go shopping. Shopping? Why? Is there something wrong with the way I dress? Poor dear. This no-nonsense, sensible Scandinavian didnt understand that for some of us shopping is a form of recreationeven of meditation. I wander through the racks, I feel the fabrics, I study the price tags, I reach Nirvana.

I guess shopping fills some emptiness in me that Im not even aware of. Im happiest when I come home with bags full of knit tops, vintage jewelry, antique linens, whatever. My dresser is crammed, my closets are stuffed, and my rooms are filled to the brim with artsy collectibles and rare first editions. Being surrounded by stuff gives me a feeling of security. I could never be comfortable in a bare, spare, stark environment. Empty spaces give me the creeps, and so do the people who live in them. Minimalists tend not to have warm and huggy personalities.

THINGS YOULL NEVER HEAR ME SAY

• I have to have it, no matter what it costs.

• I couldnt possibly wear that. Its last years style!

• You get what you pay for.

• He who dies with the most toys wins.

• I cant wait for the big game. What time is it on?

This last one has nothing to do with thrifty living. Its just something youll never hear me say.

Theres just one little problem: I have no money. Somehow I managed to get through the booming 80s and the rockin 90s without stocks, bonds, real estate, or a 401(k). Maybe thats because Ive never had a real job. Ive only worked at fun things like acting, writing, performing solo shows, mothering, and nap-takingnot a good way to build an investment portfolio. But I discovered that you dont have to break the bank to live a good life. Read on!

H ave you ever noticed how frumpy some rich women are? Im thinking Barbara Bush. Im thinking Margaret Thatcher. Im thinking Queen Elizabeth. Well, its no accident; its deliberate. Someone from a ritzy old-money family explained to me, Being fashionable shows lack of character. So now, when I meet some nouveau Beverly Hills type dressed head to toe in Prada-Yada-Yada, I think to myself, Aha, she lacks character. And the funny thing is, it usually turns out to be true.

Well, I think I have character, but Im not rich enough to aspire to frumpiness. Sure, I have my dowdy moments of elastic-waist pants and socks with sandals. But I also lust after pretty, stylish things. Lots of them. Heres how I find themfor next to no money.

My addiction began when we moved from New York to Los Angeles. We were invited to our first big-time Hollywood party. There were going to be celebs at this event, and I needed something glitzy. On my way to Loehmanns in Beverly Hills, I passed by a yard sale and found this fabulous Lillie Rubin jacket covered in sparkly red sequins and beads. The price was twenty bucks, and thats when I decided I would never buy retail again.

Unfortunately, I hadnt yet learned that L.A. is the land of the casual. Theyre so laid back they dont even pronounce the whole word: Its the land of the caszzz. The party turned out to be an informal barbecue. All the skinny blondes were in jeans. I was a sparkly, sequined idiot, but it was too late: I had been bitten by the secondhand bug and have never recovered.