THE PHRASE “vintage clothing” excites me. The trajectory of my life has been largely determined by the concept. I started collecting vintage pieces as a high schooler. I was amazed at the extraordinary outfits I could put together for pennies. In the early 1970s, I moved to New York City where I discovered serious, well-established vintage stores.
From 1980 to 1985, I operated a vintage clothing business at a storefront in Meridian-Kessler. It was small but had what I needed to foster my creativity. I outgrew it as vintage shopping increased in popularity. I then moved my business to the downtown neighborhood of Woodru Place, a larger space that allowed me to stock more pieces yet was still a local resource for my growing network of customers. But I grew frustrated with what the nature of vintage fashion was becoming. By 1990, the world started to run out of what I wanted to sell: clothes from the 1920s through the 1960s. And those weren’t what my customers were usually looking for anyway. I had to balance staying true to myself versus appealing to the emerging demographic of shoppers.
The late 1990s saw customers mixing it up. Some still wanted complete period looks, but many others were searching for a statement piece to work with their existing wardrobe. My love for vintage fashion continues to burn strong. I occasionally sell online. And I still show off my secondhand and vintage style. Today, I see younger shoppers looking for more curated looks. Secondhand shopping has all but lost the stigma it had when I first started. I’m delighted that it continues to stand the test of time. It represents second chances and identity, elements it gave back to me as someone loyal to collecting it.
