It's hard to pinpoint the start of my love affair with all things vintage. But I think it started just after my G'ma Far passed away. She was such a Lady. With gloves and pearls and legs crossed at the ankle. It was with her that I watched my first black and white movie. At the time I couldn't understand why anyone would film in B&W instead of colour; it just didn't make sense. It was also with her that I fell in love with Holly Golightly, Gene Kelly and the Sharks (though sadly, I would probably end up being a Jet). At the time she passed I was in high school and had just made the very educated decision to be an almost vegetarian- who ate the occasional steak; because who can resist Papa B's BBQ? But I did give up all pork, you know, for Babe's sake. I tried not to wear leather and fur was murder. I was a very worldy young lady, as far as I was concerned. But there was just one thing; Grandma's fox stole. This glamours furry, rust coloured wrap that smelled like her and felt like a satin lined hug. While cleaning out her house, the house where my Momma grew up; the house were my Bro and I spent Christmases and giggled and fought and played with the old toys that our grown-up cousins had played with. The house where we watched the Jerry Lewis telethon every year the weekend before back to school. It was impossible to think of the things you hoped would remind you of the Lady she was. For me it was the antique cannonball bed and this very non-vegetarian fox stole. I remember talking it out with my Momma; and her tenderness in a time of such heartache. Letting me know that a fox stole worn by my Grandma was very different than a new fur coat. That having something loved by someone before you makes it that much more special. So, I braved my inner critic and wore the stole home on the 3 hour car ride. Sitting in the backseat, wrapped in the smell of my Momma's Momma; and I slept.
Now, a fox stole wasn't something a 17 year old could easily accessorize in 1998, so it went into storage; wrapped and delicately laid there. As I grew, I tried to find my place in this fashionable world. Not an easy task when you grew up in a small town, move to the big city and didn't/don't have any money. Second hand stores and thrift shops were what I could afford or cheap 3 for $10 tops. So I ended up in shoes that didn't fit properly and clothes that even people with bad taste didn't want. These facts forced me to adopt a uniform: jeans, t-shirt and hoodie. This outfit had many incarnations, variations and colours, but it didn't seem to fit me either. I longed to be a Lady, with a capital L like my Grandma. How was a poor little fashion faux-pas like me supposed to make her mark?
Then it happened. A tiny hole in the wall with 12 hats in the front window. My college friend dragged me into a softly lit shoe box storefront- filled with cloches, clutches and class. Smelling vaguely like Chanel No. 5 a woman in rhinestone rimmed glasses smiled at us; 2 college girls in our sweaty dance gear; ogling her wares. I couldn't afford anything that day; not that I didn't want to have it all. I wanted the hats, purses, gloves, brooches, belts and most of all the panache. I wanted to be classy.
It was many years of pining before I started adding quality vintage pieces to my wardrobe. It began with a white sundress from my Momma's high school era; found packed away for a sunny day. Followed by many dresses designed in a time when women were classic and mysterious creatures clad in soft and flowing fabrics. Last year Hubby added my most extravagant piece to date; a chocolate brown Persian lamb 3/4 length coat with voluminous Fox collar and trim. That is a coat that gets noticed! When I wear vintage I can feel the love that the previous owner invested in it and it changes the way you feel about yourself. I am amazed to think that someday my new clothes will be vintage. But by then I think we'll be wearing matching jumpsuits like Logan's run, without all that dreadful running...and murder. That's not the best case scenario for a Lady like me, but who doesn't want hover shoes with automatic laces?
Now, a fox stole wasn't something a 17 year old could easily accessorize in 1998, so it went into storage; wrapped and delicately laid there. As I grew, I tried to find my place in this fashionable world. Not an easy task when you grew up in a small town, move to the big city and didn't/don't have any money. Second hand stores and thrift shops were what I could afford or cheap 3 for $10 tops. So I ended up in shoes that didn't fit properly and clothes that even people with bad taste didn't want. These facts forced me to adopt a uniform: jeans, t-shirt and hoodie. This outfit had many incarnations, variations and colours, but it didn't seem to fit me either. I longed to be a Lady, with a capital L like my Grandma. How was a poor little fashion faux-pas like me supposed to make her mark?
Then it happened. A tiny hole in the wall with 12 hats in the front window. My college friend dragged me into a softly lit shoe box storefront- filled with cloches, clutches and class. Smelling vaguely like Chanel No. 5 a woman in rhinestone rimmed glasses smiled at us; 2 college girls in our sweaty dance gear; ogling her wares. I couldn't afford anything that day; not that I didn't want to have it all. I wanted the hats, purses, gloves, brooches, belts and most of all the panache. I wanted to be classy.
It was many years of pining before I started adding quality vintage pieces to my wardrobe. It began with a white sundress from my Momma's high school era; found packed away for a sunny day. Followed by many dresses designed in a time when women were classic and mysterious creatures clad in soft and flowing fabrics. Last year Hubby added my most extravagant piece to date; a chocolate brown Persian lamb 3/4 length coat with voluminous Fox collar and trim. That is a coat that gets noticed! When I wear vintage I can feel the love that the previous owner invested in it and it changes the way you feel about yourself. I am amazed to think that someday my new clothes will be vintage. But by then I think we'll be wearing matching jumpsuits like Logan's run, without all that dreadful running...and murder. That's not the best case scenario for a Lady like me, but who doesn't want hover shoes with automatic laces?
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