Let me clarify, if I may. If you're wearing a Patek Philippe Sky Moon Tourbillon 5002 P watch, for example, I couldn't care less. Wearing such a watch tells me a few things - 1. you are rich - whoopee, good for you; 2 you need everyone to know you are rich; 3. some watch salesman outwitted you into buying said watch, and therefore you are dumb; and 4. one day you will only have one hand, because chances are someone will be going after your 1.5 million dollar timepiece. So, as you can see, this is the part of me that's not impressed by material goods.
On the other hand -- literally!! -- if you are wearing a Waltham Premier U.S. Military WWII Era Wristwatch with its original canvas strap, I will be very, very impressed. I will ooh and ah and covet what you are wearing, though, of course, I would never resort to cutting off your hand. (In spite of my love for the militaristic timepiece, I'm a pacifist.) The beauty of wearing such a watch is that it doesn't tell me anything. What it does do, is make me wonder not only about you but also about the watch. Who are you? Who wore the watch originally? Where did you get it? With such a watch, I literally and figuratively will be wondering what makes you -- and the watch - tick. I love the item not only for its beauty, but for its history, its story.
As as a result, there are few things that bring me greater pleasure than treasure hunting at thrift stores. It actually gives me an adrenaline rush, in the same way I would imagine people get when they do such things as gambling or do exercise that is more strenous than getting out of a chair to get gluten-free snacks from the kitchen. To continue with the gambling analogy -- because continuing with the exercise analogy would be too taxing on my imagination -- for the past year or so, I have been like a gambler pulling the slot machine wheel over and over hoping for the jackpot. Except the jackpot I am hoping for is in the form of midcentury dining room chairs.
I suppose if I really wanted, I could save my money and buy a lovely set for a few thousand (yes, thousand) dollars. But that will never happen. Not only would I be out a few thousand (yes, thousand) dollars, I would be douche-adjacent to the one-handed, Tourbillon-5002-P-watch wearing dude in the above scenario. Besides, even if those few thousand dropped from the sky tomorrow, it would bring me no satisfaction to just buy the chairs. No, instead I want to find the set in a thrift store or at some dead broad's estate sale (RIP lady with good taste) or on the side of the road in some rich neighborhood. I want to feel like I won the chairs.
This will take time. And patience. Until the day it happens, I will make do with our set of CostPlus wood chairs. They're neither midcentury nor modern, but at least they are really, really heavy which gives my arms a wonderful workout every time I get up to get a snack.