The Day the Village Died

Well, my  friends. It has been more than a year since the Village, Northern Kentucky's most incredibly improbably thrift shop, closed its doors for good.

But the emptiness in my life seems to persist and no amount of Goodwill runs or stops at St. Vincent can ease the saddness.

So here is a final tribute to the Village, illustrated with some of my favorite Village finds.

Sing this in your head to the tune of Don McLean's American Pie. And try not to get weepy...

The Day the Village Died

A long, long time ago... I can still remember how Those prices used to make me smile And I knew that if I had an hour I could use it to go scour And get my cheap clothing by the pile
	But last December made me shiver When NKY.com delivered Bad new in my inbox It was just, such a shock I can't remember if I cried When I thought of all the junk to buy I looked at my closet and I sighed The day  The Village Died
So bye-bye to my thrift store supply Drove my Escort down to Newport It brought a tear to my eye Them good ol’ boys at Walt’s Lanes did reply: This is the day that the Village died This is the day that the Village died
	Did you buy three bags of crap? From leotards to leather chaps And did you say they fit just so? And do you believe in sequined tops? Do early ‘90s dresses rock? And did you snag some argyle socks?
Well I know you got those old jeans there ‘Cause I saw them in the Western Wear You look good in acid wash Man, I dig that dropped crotch! I was a poor, uncool college slob With no sense of style and no job But I believe I did find god Before the Village died
	So bye-bye to my thrift store supply Drove my Escort down to Newport It brought a tear to my eye Them good ol’ boys at Walt’s Lanes did reply: This is the day that the Village died This is the day that the Village died
I met a girl in a sqare dance dress and I asked her which thrift stores were the best but she just frowned and flipped her hair I went down to El Rio Grande to create a thrifting alternative plan But my friends there said no thrift shop could compare
	And in the streets, the hipsters screamed Poor students cried And the DAAP kids dreamed But no hammer pants were procured No berets, no vests, no t-shirts And the three aisles I admired most, Cowboy boots, wedding gowns, and faux fur coats They'll never again be in my posts Now that The Village Died
So bye-bye to my thrift store supply Drove my Escort down to Newport It brought a tear to my eye Them good ol’ boys at Walt’s Lanes did reply: This is the day that the Village died This is the day that the Village died