I didn’t go to the Vintage Fashion Expo because I love vintage clothing. I went as a skeptic who wasn’t quite convinced by the idea of “vintage” clothing. Skeptical because the vintage clothing market seems flooded with dated, costume-y pieces, and I’m not interested in dressing myself out of another decade. But I’ve seen people wear vintage clothing with a modern feel, so I knew it could be done. I was skeptical, but ready to learn the secrets of the vintage fashion world. For that reason I brought a co-worker who is a vintage pro. She has a really creative look heavily supplemented with (if not entirely created by) vintage clothing, and it was my secret hope that she could school me in the finer points of vintage. We were also accompanied by another co-worker; a skeptic like me who came largely because she had nothing else to do, but also with the faint hope that she’d find a dress to wear to a Mad Men themed party later that night.
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Schooled I was… but not in the way I had anticipated. Both the skeptics and the pro were in for some surprises.
It didn’t take me long to understand that I wouldn’t need my friend to teach me the finer points of vintage shopping – because there aren’t any. I thought there was some secret about where to look and how to find knock-out pieces, but what’s a knock-out depends entirely on your personal style. Were there a lot of costumes? Yes. But there were also pieces that had the character of another time and still felt timeless. As my co-skeptic put it, “[they] actually had wearable stuff there.”
Funny, I was so concerned about wearability I wasn’t at all thinking about something equally important: affordability. In past forays into vintage stores I’ve been surprised at the prices I’m supposed to pay for something old and musty, just because it’s old. I would agree with another friend in attendance who like I, was surprised by the prices as she lamented “the high prices for pieces that I didn’t find that extraordinary.” Which brings me to the second lesson learned:
Vintage is not cheap. As one woman who did her best to sell me a $225 cowhide and leather vest for $175 told me, “this is vintage, not thrift.” I told her I’d make a note of that and come with a budget larger than $100 next time. I made a similar promise to the friendly couple that offered me a gorgeous citrine ring at $350 (no tax) instead of $425. I half-heartedly explained the concept of my budget to a Russian man who was altogether too willing to negotiate on an amazingly gorgeous, hand crafted, gold-threaded, coral and jade beaded necklace. The price tag had an alien amount – it was well over three months’ rent, but he encouraged me to make an offer and I talked him down to a discount between 65% and 70% off. Did I commit to paying nearly a month’s rent for this necklace? Maybe… Nobody will ever know. (It all happened so fast- like that time I bought a Persian carpet. There was a blinding light, and when I came to, I had just signed my name on the dotted line.)
And what surprised my friend the pro? The open, communal fitting rooms. As she recounted to me, “I HATED the room where you have to try on clothes. I walked into one of them as this woman wearing a thong was bending down so the first thing I saw when I walked in was this GIANT moon.” An unfortunate experience indeed.
(break for pictures: just for fun)
In the end I bought a blue silk cocktail dress for $65 (a steal), a blue printed silk scarf for $10, and a necklace whose price shall remain undisclosed. And I came away “convinced” about vintage fashion. Convinced that with the right pieces (and at the right prices), it can make sense for anyone. It takes time, patience, and a lot of scrutiny, so I probably won’t make this a habit; but you will definitely see me at the next Vintage Fashion Expo.
(the keepers)
What's your opinion?