What one person throws away, another person might cherish. And sometimes, that cherished item is a beautiful gown crafted by a dressmaker from the Golden age of Hollywood. Kansas Michalke, a content creator and mother of two from Austin, Texas, has always had a talent for uncovering hidden treasures during her thrift store adventures.
The unexpected find in the thrift store.
The woman confessed that this passion for thrift shops stems from her childhood when her family didn’t have enough money to buy new branded items. “We were just simple little country people who go straight to the clearance section or thrift shops,” she said in the interview. However, she also mentioned that she was not ashamed of it.
This time, Michalke was doing her usual shopping routine. She was almost done with her shopping when she spotted a bright, shiny evening gown. Michalke remembered, “I saw the twinkle of the dress and I thought, ’Oh my gosh, this will be so fun to play dress up with,’ and I just tossed it in the cart.” She continued, “I didn’t look at the label. I didn’t look at anything. I was like, ’My daughters will love this.’”
It wasn’t until Michalke got home that she realized she had found something extraordinary. “When I typed in the designer’s name and I thought, ’NO WAY, THIS IS CRAZY!’” she recalled the moment she discovered she had just bought a gown crafted by a dressmaker from the Golden Age of Hollywood.
The fortunate woman continued, “And then that’s when I started doing full research on Oleg Cassini and discovered just how iconic he was.” Michalke bought a vintage dress designed by Oleg Cassini for just $15. At first, it was the sparkle and elegance of the dress that grabbed Michalke’s eye. But as she inspected it further, she admired the meticulous sequin work and the delicate pearl detailing.
Oleg Cassini was deeply loved by Hollywood’s elite.
Oleg Cassini was a legendary fashion designer known for his elegant and innovative creations, as well as his close relationships with Hollywood’s elite. Throughout the 1950s and 1960s, Cassini became synonymous with American fashion, dressing some of the most iconic figures of the era, both on and off the screen. His clientele included Hollywood royalty such as Grace Kelly, Audrey Hepburn, Marilyn Monroe, Rita Hayworth, Lana Turner, Gina Lollobrigida and many others.
Cassini’s designs were celebrated for their timeless elegance and attention to detail. He was particularly renowned for his mastery of the sheath dress, which became a staple of women’s fashion during the mid-20th century. His creations embodied the epitome of sophistication and grace, reflecting the glamour of the silver screen and the allure of high society.
Michalke’s find is unique.
Michalke and Marilyn Monroe, both in gowns made by Oleg Cassini.
What made the $15 discovery even more thrilling was how perfectly the dress fit Michalke. She excitedly shared her discovery on social media, where many users chimed in with their own Cassini-branded pieces. However, Michalke’s find was unique among them. The detail of the dress suggests it wasn’t a mass-produced item. Upon researching the tag, Michalke learned that the dress might belong to Cassini’s “Black Tie Collection.”
She explained, “It’s definitely ’80s or earlier because of how the tag is hand-sewn in, and they didn’t use machine sewing until the ’90s, so I know that it’s either ’80s or before, but there’s nothing else I can find on it.”
Despite her efforts, Michalke couldn’t find anything quite like her shimmering gown. “I can’t find anything like it, and so I’m thinking that’s what makes it even more special. Is it potentially like a one-off piece? Maybe a runway piece. I just don’t know,” she mused.
Though Michalke hopes to uncover more about the dress’s history and value, her main joy lies in sharing it with her daughters during dress-up time. “My four-year-old Memphis is obsessed with fashion, and her exact words were, ’Mom, this is iconic,’” Michalke shared with a laugh.
Michalke lives by the motto, “Boycott being boring,” and this find certainly embodies that sentiment. Her passion for thrift shopping and uncovering hidden treasures at Goodwill has motivated her to create a thrifting guide for others, packed with helpful tips on navigating the clearance rack to find exactly what you’re looking for. “There’s not a bad thrift store. I’ve never met one, and I go thrift shopping at second-hand estate sales, at least four times a week,” she shared.
Another fortunate woman found a $6,000 designer dress at a thrift store for $25, and she’s not even engaged. To take a close look at the dress, click here.
Buttons and Memories
I miss my mom. I used to push all the buttons just as she would walk down the aisle, a mischievous glint in my eye. Each time we visited the grocery store, I’d dash ahead, my small fingers dancing over the colorful buttons of the self-checkout machine. With each beep, she’d turn around, half-laughing, half-exasperated. “You little rascal! One day, you’re going to break it!” she’d say, shaking her head, but her smile would give her away. Those moments were filled with laughter and light, the kind of memories that could brighten even the dullest days.
Since her passing, the grocery store has become a hollow place for me. I walk through, the automatic doors sliding open with a soft whoosh, and I feel the weight of the emptiness settle in my chest. The shelves filled with brightly packaged goods seem to mock my solitude. I can still hear her voice, echoing in my mind, reminding me to pick up my favorite snacks or to try a new recipe. I wander through the aisles, my heart heavy, searching for a piece of her in every corner.
I remember how she would linger by the produce, inspecting the apples with care, always choosing the shiniest ones. “The best things in life are worth taking a moment to choose,” she would say, her hands gently brushing over the fruit. Now, I find myself standing there, staring at the apples, unable to choose. They all seem dull and lifeless without her touch.
The self-checkout machines are still there, their buttons waiting to be pressed, but they feel like a cruel reminder of what I’ve lost. I can’t bring myself to push them anymore. The last time I stood in front of one, the memories flooded back. I could almost hear her laughter, feel her presence beside me. But it was just a memory, fleeting and painful.
Every week, I return to the store, hoping that somehow it will feel different, that I’ll find a way to connect with her again. But the aisles remain unchanged, their fluorescent lights buzzing overhead like a persistent reminder of my loneliness. I see other families laughing and chatting, and I feel like an outsider looking in on a world that no longer includes me.
One evening, as I walked past the cereal aisle, I spotted a box of her favorite brand. It was decorated with bright colors and cheerful characters, a stark contrast to the heaviness in my heart. I hesitated for a moment, then reached out and grabbed it, a sudden rush of nostalgia washing over me. I could almost see her standing beside me, her eyes twinkling with excitement. “Let’s get it! We can make our special breakfast tomorrow!”
With the box cradled in my arms, I made my way to the checkout. I felt a warmth spreading through me, the kind of warmth that comes from cherished memories. But as I stood there, scanning the items and watching the screen flash numbers, I realized that I was alone. The laughter we shared, the spontaneous dance parties in the kitchen, all of it felt like a distant dream.
When I got home, I placed the box on the kitchen counter, a bittersweet smile tugging at my lips. I thought about making pancakes, just like we used to, the kitchen filled with the scent of vanilla and maple syrup. I reached for my phone to call her, to share the news, but my heart sank as reality set in. There would be no more calls, no more laughter echoing through the house.
That night, I sat in the dark, the box of cereal beside me, feeling the weight of my grief settle in. I poured myself a bowl, the sound of the cereal hitting the milk breaking the silence. As I took the first bite, tears streamed down my cheeks. Each crunch reminded me of the moments we had shared, and I felt an ache in my chest for the warmth of her presence.
“I miss you, Mom,” I whispered into the stillness of the room. “I wish I could press all the buttons just one more time, hear you laugh, feel your hand in mine.”
But the buttons would remain untouched, just as the aisles of the grocery store would remain silent, a reflection of the emptiness I felt inside. And in that moment, I realized that while the world continued to move forward, I would always carry her with me, a bittersweet reminder of the love that once filled my life.
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