I never, ever take my used stuff to the local thrift store. Few things are more freaky than walking back into it a week later and seeing your stuff on a rack, waiting to be bought by somebody else who thinks it's cool to own stuff dead people don't need anymore.
Once I had a bad Hawaiian shirt collection. I stuffed it into the donation bin. The next day one of my bandmates, smiling at how happy it would make me, handed me a whole pile of ugly shirts he'd filched from the bin.
They were the ones I put there the day before.
Having cleaned up after dead people, emptied Rug Doctors filled with diluted blood, cut away the carpet where the decaying remains dripped into rorsharc test blotches, and tossed lifetimes of junk into dumpsters, I think I'll take my junk to distant thrift stores.