I’m the type of gal that as soon as something is dubbed ‘on-trend’ or ‘the must-have’ buy of the season – it leaves me cold. Not to say I don’t pore over Vogue and do my fair share of style stalking – but the idea of wearing the same Zara dress as half the nation makes me feel a bit weird. Surely the joy to be found in what we pull out of our closet each morning is the opportunity to show to others our style, like a short-cut to our personality, a visual radar of who we are. What we wear should embolden us – make us feel more confident, sassy, sexy, strong, comforted… can an identikit dress that feels like a ‘middle England’ uniform do that? What can it tell us about the wearer, other than they fell foul of the Instagram algorithm.
Back track 20 years and a teen, whilst my friends were spending all their allowance at River Island and Tammy Girl on a Saturday trip into town, I was delving around second-hand and charity shops for ‘granny chic’ cast-offs. This is not an anecdote to make me look cool, more to illustrate my love of the kooky, the ‘different’ and my ardent, life-long love of vintage.
As a professional storyteller, it’s no accident that I adore vintage. I seek out the soul in things, the lives they’ve witnessed and the romance of a ‘life well led’. New clothes, to me, feel empty somehow; they may look good but they don’t have that story to them. Less so as a teen but as I get older another thing I love about vintage is the sustainability; by buying something that’s already made and to breathe new life into it trumps even the most sustainable of brands when it comes to lightening our fashion footprint. Vintage purchases, by their nature, are more considered and made with love, we are less likely to discard them after one wear – but to cherish them as a prize hard won. They’re also usually from an independent dealer or boutique – my favourite is Lovely’s Vintage, where I picked up this perfect, boxy leopard print faux fur jacket – at a fraction of the high-street dupes (I ran this interview with owner Lynnette back in 2013!).
I also wholeheartedly believe that the buzz of finding a vintage treasure cannot be matched with a quick ‘haul’ from the high street. Whether it’s scouring Ebay for hours, or unearthing a bargain at a 5am flea market – the thrill of the chase is addictive, both on and offline. I’ve been known to make my family detour on holiday after a hot tip about a good vintage spot, or set my alarm for a middle of the night trans-Atlantic bidding war for a particular vintage prize. The main pic is perhaps my greatest win – a vintage Missoni knit for £10. TEN BRITISH POUNDS.
One thing I don’t love about vintage however is the sizing – oh to be a svelte size 8-10 – the clothes I could have bought! At 5ft 10, a 14/16 with size 9 feet, shoes are completely out and so are most eras before 50s. But don’t let that put you off! I adore Norman Linton dresses from the 60s, one of the ‘plus size’ labels of their day (this purple one below is a favourite). For knitwear I tend to look for mens (sloppy cashmere jumpers and oversize cardis are my winter uniform). 70s wafty maxi dresses are a dream if you’re curvy, while accessories, scarves, bags are all to play for.
It doesn’t stop at my wardrobe door either – as a very small (precocious) child, while my sister was buying up Barbies at Sunday Car Boot sales, I was foraging for blue and white china. Age 8. I displayed them around the picture rail in my bedroom, like some batty octogenarian… and I’m still going strong. You can have a little snoop around our Vintage Home over on Instagram Highlights; mid-century is my rift – I love G plan, Merrow Associates, Arkana… mixed with vintage posters, woven natural fibres and bold pops of colour.
If you’re into vintage tell me, what’s your favourite era?
