So with a totally arbitrary but generous City Paper budget of $8, I accepted the challenge: Assemble an outfit that I would actually wear. Like, in public.

After scouring Craigslist, I set off for the street sales to see what treasures I could unearth. The Clark Park Flea Market sounded promising enough: a healthy spread of tables set up in the early morn while U City kids were still asleep. I eyed some cowgirl boots for $20, but told myself that CP wouldn't understand. Dressing myself from head-to-toe for less than the price of a Ritz ticket was gonna be harder than I thought.

After dismissing tables of tube socks and Ray-Ban knockoffs, I stumbled across a white peasant top amidst a collection of just-my-size clothing. I knew I could wear the blouse all summer—and best of all, it only cost a buck. I was tempted to buy more from the hawker, a sweet thing who tolerated my wild displacement of her neatly folded items, but the day was still young and I was rolling with $7.

The market at 22nd and Spruce streets was a gold mine of vintage finds. It looked as if I had stepped onto the set of Antiques Roadshow -- I didn't spy a single item from the last 50 years. A finger-dust swipe confirmed my assumption.

I resisted the urge to splurge on $3 Marilyn Monroe paper dolls and moved instead toward the display of a woman who retools fashions for Old City's Vagabond. The designer had entrusted her boyfriend with the table while she foraged for edibles. Lucky for him, the items were price-tagged, and Mr. Responsible was not about to brave negotiations. When the missus returned, we chatted about sewing machines and other fun stuff. (Never hurts to butter 'em up before you bring 'em down.) I could've easily charmed her into the wardrobe of my dreams if I was rocking more cash, but departed instead with a darling handkerchief (read: head wrap, neck scarf, purse tie, wristband, pocket decoration, etc.) for $2.

Next I experienced the gotta-have-it itch when an amiable older lady announced that her double-digit aprons were now going for $5. I had noticed an apron frenzy in the retail world and was yearning for a wraparound of my own. The woman claimed that the one I chose was a feedlot print from the Depression era, when families could only afford one type of cloth and used it to make everything from sacks to aprons to curtains.

As my day of hunting and bargaining wound down, I realized I had spent my wad and still hadn't found shoes or undergarments. Looks like a gal just can't get dressed on $8 these days—and I ain't about to beg for someone's old underwear.

Check out www.philafleamarkets.org or www.philadelphia.craigslist.org/gms for upcoming flea markets, or visit PhillyFreecycle's Free-for-All, Sun., April 23, 1-5 p.m., Wissahickon Charter School, 4700 Wissahickon Ave., 267-338-1020.