...any "Gidget" fans out there?
A spritely little tale of "the-vintage-clothier-that-could," I've been wearing and collecting vintage since the early 80's. When I was in high school--stocking up on school clothes, my parents weren't eager to hop aboard the "name-brand bandwagon." It meant that neither 'Members Only' jackets nor a "rainbow of Izod golf shirts" were a big part of my wardrobe, and something definitely "came between me and my Calvins..." the money to buy them. The lack of excess funds afforded me a chance to be "rich in creativity." In an effort to carve out my own niche, I began to wear my parent's old clothes. Because my father was 6'3" and I was 5'3", his 1950's cashmere v-neck and cardigan sweaters made for perfect sweater dresses. I just added the belt. I also wore mom's "boxy black boucle suit" (say that fast 5 times!) and occasionally her old white mouton coat. Oh, to know the whereabouts of that mouton coat today...
College found me migrating even more towards eccentric and less towards normal. At the end of my college career, I turned even farther away from overpriced, mass-produced, brown bag vanilla apparel called fashion. I can't honestly recall what styles were considered "the rage" in the early 90's. I do know I began to perfect the art of being a vintage "clotheshorse." I revered the classic look of Audrey and Jackie-O, but willfully ran after the spunk of a resurfacing Bettie Page style. I also remained ever-the-reminiscent of 1970's "Rhoda-wear" and "groovy Marsha" threads, some of which I sported the first time around. Remember windowpane blue jeans? How about yo-yo platform shoes with holes in the heel? My favorite was a fantastic blue baseball shirt with Andy Gibbs' face plastered ALL over it, and my name in fuzzy letters on the back, but I digress.
Three years ago, I made a life-changing decision after endless flea marketing, yard sale-ing, thrifting, and more important, wishing. Wishing on countless occasions for some vintage piece to fit me, only having to walk away with my hopes dashed about, and my hands empty. Half the time, I didn't care if it was too big or too little, a man's suit or a clown suit. It was still fabulous and I hated to leave such a piece undiscovered. I know you feel my pain. I know you've been there--come clean!
While there's no huge fortune in most of today's vintage available to the masses, there is still great taste and fulfillment. I could say I began my business because vintage clothing is what I know. But if I were hooked up to a lie detector, I'd have to say I started this business to support my habit--an incurable disease. I'll admit it: I'm an addict. I'm addicted to "the find." My only anecdote is to pass it on to those who will savor it as much as I did upon selection for my inventory. Only, it has to be "the find" for you as well. That means my price has to be within reason, and I believe it is, or as close to it as I can afford and still have a domain name this time next year.
But enough babbling, GO SHOP!
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