NEW YORK — Ah, New York, home to some of the nation's unique and magnificent sights: The Statue of Liberty, Broadway — and the resale stores of the Upper East Side.

You raise an eyebrow at the inclusion of the resale stores of the Upper East Side? Perhaps you have never bought an Ann Taylor tweed suit for $20 in such mint condition that the pockets were still stitched closed. In which case all the more reason for you to ditch the Empire State Building.

Go ahead and sneer, if you don't like buying Ferragamos cheap. But the fact is that New York's Upper East Side is the ultimate in resale shopping.

There are resale stores elsewhere in New York. But what makes the Upper East Side stand out in the world of second-hand shopping is the extraordinary concentration of stores in a very small, very rich, area.

Check out the neighborhood's superb resale credentials. First, wealth. Willie Sutton robbed banks because that's where the money is. Well, you thrift-shop the Upper East Side because this is where the rich people live.

The lofty 10021 ZIP code includes the most deluxe parts of 5th, Madison and Park Avenues. The average household income in 2002 was $222,365. This was Jackie Onassis' neighborhood. When the locals aren't donating or consigning their clothing, they are gazing down from their penthouses at Central Park.

You can imagine the kind of clothes these people get rid of. More to the point, you can buy them.

Second, the wealth is concentrated in a small area. You can hardly walk down one of these streets without jostling investment bankers, trust-fund babies or matrons carrying investment-grade crocodile handbags.

They all need conveniently located places to dispose of their barely worn, incredibly fashionable clothing. This leads to the last delightful element for excellent resale shopping — a lot of stores. Some are consignment; some benefit worthy causes. You can hit half a dozen within a few blocks. On my last trip, I shopped for five hours straight, and didn't have time for several stores.

This is the ultimate in used clothing, the supreme source of secondhand, the Holy Grail of resale, and the consignment cognoscenti know it. I saw one woman shopping with a wheeled suitcase. More than a few of my fellow resale customers were wearing mink coats.

This second-hand shopping Mecca flies beneath the radar of most tourists and even many New Yorkers. On this trip, I shopped with my friend Andrea, who actually lives on the Upper East Side and donates her own clothes to these stores but had never shopped there. After one encounter with a cache of crocodile handbags, she was a convert.

One caveat: This is the land of the rich and thin. Above size 10, the shopping gets more challenging. It's not impossible, and there are enough shoes and purses to make a trip worthwhile regardless. But keep that reality in mind.

Ready?

Begin your assault by caffeining up at Le Pain Quotidien (1131 Madison Ave. at 84th Street; 212-327-4900), an urbane neighborhood purveyor of organic coffee, tea, breads and light meals.

Thus fortified, cross the street to a double dose of designer consignment: Encore (1132 Madison Ave., second floor; 212-879-2850) and, just next to it, Bis (1134 Madison Ave., second floor; 212-396-2760).

Consignment tends to be pricier than resale, but is also more consistently upscale. Thus, at Encore, we saw a gorgeous Rena Lange black pantsuit with a reddish purple fur collar for $225. There were armloads of formal gowns, including Armanis, and a rack of vintage designer clothes.

We headed for the purses, where Andrea showed me a raspberry red, pebbly leather tote bag. "Look at this," she whispered, indicating the $200 price tag. I was about to agree that it was awfully expensive when she set me straight. "This is a Carolina Herrera," she said. "New, it costs like $1,000."

Then she saw the crocodile bags and was lost.

A rich brown crocodile purse had an extraordinary glass clasp that gave it a downtown twist. It was $200, but Andrea shrewdly thought to ask at what point it would be marked down further.

"End of the month," the clerk said. That was two days away. Andrea decided to take her chances and wait. OK, we hid the bag behind some others, but still, it was a gutsy move worthy of a true shopping gambler.

Continuing the hunt

In search of more down-to-earth prey, we skipped Bis and headed to the Spence-Chapin Thrift Shop (1473 3rd Ave. at 83rd Street; 212-737-8448).

There, Andrea pointed out a collection of dozens of gorgeous blazers by a brand called Zelda in shades of taupes and charcoals with embroidered lapels.

Alas — they were all size 8. They were samples, complete with the word scrawled across the linings. I bought one even though it will need alteration on the grounds that it was only $37.

Spence-Chapin runs frequent sales, and it was on a sale rack that I found the $20 Ann Taylor suit. It fit impeccably.

We were just warming up. From there, we walked to the Cancer Care Thrift Shop (1480 3rd Ave. at 84th Street; 212-879-9868), where we could hardly make it past the shoes at the front of the store. Andrea snagged black Coach pumps for $23.

I fell for Patrick Cox strap pumps in a kind of pink-tinged purple cloth for $12 and a vintage fake leopard pillbox hat for $6. There were also real fur jackets and coats, as there were at a number of the stores.

At this point Andrea, who actually had a life beyond shopping that day, headed off. Me, I was left with a hard choice: The Museum of Modern Art as planned, or more resale shopping?

Picasso lost. I snagged an Armani Collezione man's overcoat for my husband in perfect condition for $90 at Housing Works (202 E. 77th St., near 3rd Avenue; 212-772-8461); you'd pay almost $2,000 new for such a coat.

Housing Works is known for furniture but has a small selection of particularly well-priced clothes. There was an impressive collection of black leather skirts and jackets; my heart was broken by a $17 Valentino skirt that was too small.

If you must visit a museum while in New York, the Metropolitan and Guggenheim are a few blocks away. Knock yourself out. But remember — you can't take a Rembrandt home with you. Bruno Magli dress pumps for $25, however, are another story.