The people from this article learned that something truly valuable can be found in unexpected places like a secondhand store or a flea market. You don’t have to have any special knowledge or skills — sometimes you just have to be a little lucky.
Bright Side is about to show you some photos taken by lucky people who managed to buy some cool and very expensive stuff when they least expected to.
“In high school, I found this vintage apple necklace that I loved at an antique store, but I left it at an ex-boyfriend’s house and never got it back. Yesterday I walked into an antique store and SAW THE SAME NECKLACE! 10 years later and 700 miles away, the treasure hunt always pays off!”
“I found a nice hardcover edition of a book I’ve been wanting to read at Value Village, and I was happy to pay the $5 for it. Then I found this when I flipped through it at home.”
“I always make sure to look through the entire costume jewelry section before leaving and today I found this diamond sapphire engagement ring in a rummage bowl for $2. Took it to a jeweler straight after and they confirmed it was real.”
“I was searching for a suit for a wedding and found a 3-piece with a retail value of $1,700. And I paid $20 for it!”
“Needed an emergency dress for an event yesterday and found one for $9 at my favorite charity shop!”
“Found a camera in a thrift store that belonged to a soldier in WW1. It has undeveloped Verichrome film in the back.”
“I found a Loewe ’puzzle’ bag in pristine condition for $20 at Goodwill. It retails at $2,590.”
“Always check your piggy banks! Found $170 in a piggy bank that cost $7!”
“Found my wedding dress today. I believe it’s from the 1950s and I only paid $64 for it and I’m in love. Going to add my own twist to the top and redo the corset but the bottom is staying just how it is.”
“This is the best $1.99 I will ever spend in my lifetime. The book has a photo of Stephen King and his autograph in it!”
“This is a thrifted vintage gown that resembles the lamé dress Marilyn Monroe wore. I did not nail the pose, I know…”
“Went to a house clearance sale and found this pin marked as ’costume jewelry’ for $5. Took it to a jeweler and they confirmed it’s unmarked gold with diamonds and sapphires.”
“3 designer blazers on the same trip to GW — I paid under $15 for all 3.”
“Fell in love with this painting and got it for $10!”
“I found a $5 vintage, heavily-beaded, seashell purse with a handmade tag inside. It’s so pretty!”
“Cute vintage strawberry salt and pepper shakers, new and in a box”
“Found $5 in this jacket I paid $6 for.”
“I got a Harry Potter wand for $1.78.”
“I only started learning embroidery a few days ago and found 700 skeins of string for $5 at a thrift store. They retail for about $.50 each.”
“This was probably my favorite purchase ever! A $3 vintage wedding dress!”
“I was told this was a green amethyst and haggled it down to $42. Took it to a jeweler to have it appraised — it’s a rare green diamond over 100 years old, conservatively worth more than $8,000!”
We’re sure that our readers have interesting stories too. Which of your purchases do you think was a really great find? Tell us!
I Found Tiny Childrens Shoes on My Late Husbands Grave Every Time I Visited, Their Secret Changed My Life
When Ellen visits Paul’s grave, seeking solace, she’s puzzled by the sight of children’s shoes resting on his headstone. At first, she dismisses it, assuming it’s a mistake by another grieving family. But as more shoes appear over time, the mystery deepens. Determined to understand, Ellen eventually catches the person responsible—and her life changes in an instant.
The first time I saw the shoes, I thought someone had made a mistake. A small pair of blue sneakers lay beside Paul’s headstone, neatly arranged as if left with intention. I figured a grieving parent had misplaced them. People do strange things when they mourn—I know I did. After Paul passed away in a sudden accident, I spent an entire week making jam that I knew I’d never eat. It was the only thing that made me feel like I was doing something, anything.
But those shoes were different. They didn’t belong, and I moved them aside before placing my flowers by Paul’s grave. It wasn’t until my next visit that I noticed something unusual: there were more shoes. This time, tiny red rain boots. Then, during another visit, I found dark green sneakers. It was too deliberate to be random. And it didn’t make sense. Paul and I never had children. I tried to convince myself it was a mistake—a grieving parent finding comfort in placing shoes at the wrong grave—but deep down, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.
As the shoes multiplied with each visit, it felt like an invisible hand was pulling at the fragile threads of peace I had stitched together. Frustrated, I stopped visiting for a while, hoping that by staying away, the shoes would disappear. They didn’t. Instead, they kept coming. When I finally returned, six pairs of children’s shoes stood in a neat row beside Paul’s headstone, like a haunting tribute I couldn’t comprehend.
My sadness turned into anger. Who was doing this? Was this some cruel joke?
Then, one cold morning, I finally saw her. She was crouched beside the grave, gently placing a pair of small brown sandals next to the growing collection. Her long, dark hair swayed in the breeze as she carefully arranged them, her movements slow and purposeful.
“Hey! You!” I yelled, charging toward her, the flowers I had brought slipping from my grasp, forgotten.
She flinched but didn’t run. Instead, she stood slowly, dusting off her coat before turning to face me. That’s when my breath caught in my throat.
It was Maya—Paul’s old secretary. I hadn’t seen her in years, not since she abruptly left her job. She had always been warm and cheerful, but the woman standing before me now seemed burdened with a sorrow I recognized all too well.
“Maya?” I whispered, the disbelief heavy in my voice.
She nodded, her eyes red with unshed tears. Without a word, she reached into her coat pocket and handed me a worn photograph. My hands shook as I took it, my heart pounding in my chest.
It was a picture of Paul, smiling down at a baby boy cradled in his arms.
“His name is Oliver,” Maya said softly. “He’s Paul’s son.”
I stumbled backward, the world spinning as the weight of her words sank in. My husband, the man I thought I knew so well, had lived a secret life—with a child.
“You and Paul were…” I couldn’t finish the sentence.
Maya nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I never wanted to hurt you. But after Paul’s accident, Oliver started asking about his dad. I told him Paul was watching over him, and every time Oliver gets a new pair of shoes, he asks me to bring the old ones to his daddy.”
The shoes… they were a child’s way of staying connected to the father he had lost.
I wanted to scream, to demand answers from a man who could no longer give them. But standing there, staring at the shoes left behind by a little boy who would never know his father, I felt my anger start to melt into something else—something softer.
Maya looked at me with guilt etched on her face. “I’ll stop bringing the shoes. I never meant to upset you.”
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