The business that occupies the corner of MLK Way and Addison Street has been a long time in the making. The seemingly inconspicuous shop, ThriftyCat, opened on January 18th, 2025 — transforming a daunting heap of  40 tons of clothes in their parking lot into a gorgeous and inviting storefront. But it’s much more than a thrift store — it’s become a movement. 

Olivia Ramos, one of BrainScramble’s in-house artists, is a key player in its success. A week after its opening, our team members had the pleasure of visiting the store. While I interviewed Ramos behind the register, the building buzzed with a feverish excitement one only encounters when you drop eight indie bitches amid endless racks of vintage clothing. As customers picked through the racks, each texture a surprise, it became increasingly evident that Ramos knew the store inside and out. 

Of course, she’s no stranger to fashion. Since the age of sixteen, she has worked at numerous second hand stores around Los Angeles and Pasadena. Yet, ThriftyCat was a whole new challenge. Opening the store proved to be challenging, as she and her co-managers faced significant drawbacks due to the policies of the city of Berkeley regarding zoning issues and the use of their front yard space. 

“There was a point where everyone wanted to throw in the towel. Bryce (ThriftyCat’s owner and Ramos’ boss) thought they were going to shut us down.” Ramos said. 

“Diego (Ramos’ partner) and I marched into city hall and refused to give up. I did have to learn on the job, and I spent almost every day here. But I think it was worth it,” She finished. 

I couldn’t help but wonder — why? Why, on top of all of her coursework and extracurriculars, did she choose to continue? 

“I’m not a quitter. I never have been. When I was in high school, the area was really low-income. I was asked to step up as class president — no one wanted to — we had no funding, and we had come straight out of COVID. No one thought we were going to be able to have a prom or a graduation, but I thought it was important for our students to have that experience. I ended up raising 20 thousand dollars for our ceremonies,” Ramos remarked. 

The more we spoke, the more it became clear that these initiatives were far from selfish. When prompted about her favourite part of operating ThriftyCat, Ramos responded: “I think getting to finally meet the people, the Berkeley locals.” She paused, leaning back on the wall, the corners of her mouth flicking up into a smile. 

“They saw it when our front yard was all a mess in the heat of the summer, the boxes stacked up to above our ceiling. I think a lot of stores in Berkeley really have their target audience set on the students, but I think, for me at least, I’m more focused on the people who have existed here before the students came in. Seeing the people who have watched us grow and finally buy clothes for cheap and love it, is the most gratifying part of the experience.”

Perhaps this is a good time to note: ThriftyCat’s prices are some of the best I’ve ever seen. I wish I was in a position to gatekeep it (god, they’re our sponsor), but the selection coupled with the price tags are enough to make our team scream. The front door is lined with bottomless boxes of one-dollar pieces of clothing, and the inside is divided into different style categories — earthy, y2k, rock, and more. 

Many thrift stores in Berkeley, especially those near the UC campus, have shifted toward a boutique-style model, offering hand-picked vintage and designer pieces. While this attracts fashion-conscious customers, it also justifies higher price tags than traditional donation-based thrift stores. In response to this, ThriftyCat has decentered UC Berkeley students in its business. 

“We try to help out wherever we can. There are a lot of unhoused people around here, and we give away our thickest coats, sweatpants, or blankets. It’s getting a lot colder.” Ramos said. 

ThriftyCat is more than just a thrift store—it’s a testament to resilience, community, and the power of accessible fashion. In a city where gentrification has pushed prices sky-high, Ramos and her team have carved out a space that prioritizes locals, offering not just affordable clothing but a sense of belonging.

The journey from mountains of unsorted clothes to a thriving storefront wasn’t easy, but it’s clear that ThriftyCat isn’t just here to sell vintage—it’s here to stay. So, whether you’re a student on a budget or a longtime Berkeley resident, consider this your invitation to step inside, dig through the racks, and become part of the movement.