I grew up in a big family in the 1970s—sisters, lots of clothes, a shared VW bug, and even a linen closet turned make-up closet—which amazed all of our friends. Yes, we bartered to share our clothes, living in wrap-around skirts and Mexican blouses, blue jeans with Indian-print tees and bandannas. All these years later, we still go nuts for a good hippie store—the cheaper ones, not the resort-y stores that sell Geeta gauzy kurtas for $65. We love them for $15. That's why I was so excited about shopping at The Water Monkey in Portsmouth, New Hampshire. It's one of the good ones. It smells like Indian-print cotton with a dash of scented oils and incense thrown-in. The prices are just where they should be. My sisters and I laugh as we pay $5 for our old favorite Guatemalan belts that we plan to tie around our worn-in straw hats. And just for a minute, we are back in our Connecticut bedrooms as 15 year-old girls again. Sweet.