Rag-O-Rama is a nice, easy solution for layabouts like us; Goodwill and St. Vincent De Paul, the Value Village and Amvets yield nada anymore in the way of fashion uncoveries, and even if they did, we prefer our dander familiar and our detergent less chemical-smelling. We love the idea of scrounging the back-alley thrifts for a fashion jackpot, but we are sick of it. Rag-O-Rama meets us halfway: Weed out the tweed, please, and all the Dockers and argyle, and we'll do the rest -- and pay you the extra seven or eight bucks for the effort, the detergent and the good taste. These days, the used-clothing business has evolved so much that many of the gems that a few years back could easily be bought for a buck are now scoured over by professional eBayers, used-clothes collectors, the occasional Japanese gold prospector -- the prime booty has been eaten up, and one step up on the food chain, Rag-O-Rama burps it out. So, sure, Rag-O-Rama's ilk is partially to blame for the dearth of true-blue thrifts, but love it or not, that's the marketplace, and it's all fair game, cheapskates. R-O-R knows what the kids want and know that Mommy'll pay for it. We shan't ignore two other Lou pleasures: Pixie 9 on Cherokee, which has incredible taste, and the Haberdashery on Grand, which often yields gold.