Jul 19, 2012


This probably won't come as a surprise. It's quite obviously splashed and woven into these pages but just in case you missed it, I confess. I  l o v e  v i n t a g e.  And I wonder just how many people have written and spoken these same words. 
Kind of cliché, but it seems stupid not to address, given that it's gone this far. I've come to notice that having an interest in the past doesn't set you apart the way it used to. Wearing a stranger's old clothes has become the thing to do. 

When I was a kid, I remember my Aunty Kate coming over. She was the most fun an adult could be. She was one of us and it was our secret. She only ever wore vintage and I loved that about her. I didn't really understand it at the time though it made me curious. I liked that she looked different to everyone else,  inspiring visions of Jane Birkin. And I liked that she didn't mind wearing second hand. An idea that most adults I knew would've snubbed their nose at. 

What I'm interested in is where it's come from, this increasing acceptance and need for vintage. It appears  to have almost exploded in popularity perhaps in reaction to mass production. It gained exposure during the 90's with the culture of celebrity and individualistic sub-cultures helping to mainstream the idea. It affords the type of creativity that you can't get in a store with a visual merchandiser.

I like when things have history. They've had another life in someone else's hands and somehow they've found their way into yours. There's something romantic about this sharing of loved items. Though it goes beyond the clothes. It's about the era, its style and the people of that time. The way they carried themselves and went about their lives, it was other-worldly, a world I would've wanted to be a part of. But now these characters live only in pixels with vintage stores as their playgrounds. It's filling in the blanks that brings the thrill. It's where you go to get your fix. 

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