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Old clothes for old ladies?
Monday, March 9, 2009




I'm wondering if there is a time in a woman's life when vintage clothes might start to look like something she bought new and just failed to throw out. Spent yesterday in Brick Lane, and although there are some amazing shops and beautiful clothes, there is also an awful lot of tat. Overpriced tat at that - you don't want to pay thirty quid for a faded old cotton dress that probably cost 9s 11d once upon a time, especially one that is ripped and has suspicious, probably won't vanish out stains on it. There is so much of it too - must be endless warehouses with dodgy dealers climbing over it like Brazilian street kids. I remember the days when jumble sales were full of the most amazing top quality finds - 10p got you a 1930s jacket in hardly worn condition and Victorian nighties were almost given away. In the 70s wearing vintage was a way to assert your individuality - it was a cheap way to look good. Now it isn't cheap and unless you find something really beautiful (see previous post) you can end up looking like everybody else in that old dressing up box way. And this look can only be worn by the under 30s, I think. After that maybe it's time to grow up. I'm saying this but of course nothing will stop me regressing to favourite old dresses and what will make me chuck out my fabulous 1940s suits and coats even though I never wear them? I still like the feel of old material (although I tried on an old cardigan yesterday which felt like a brillo pad so there are exceptions).

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6:56 AM  

2 Comments:
  • At March 12, 2009 at 1:30 AM, Blogger Lesley said…

    Housed in an attic room, (whose sole occupants are three generations of female cats); once carefully wrapped in an assortment of plastic bags, and placed in a battered, oak blanket chest, lies a collection of clothing from days gone by. My days gone by and those of women spanning the eras from Vic to Liz.

    Along with a couple of frocks, there is an eclectic collection of womens' under garments. None of which fit me anymore. My daughter, Ginny, having rifled through, took the stockings, leaving behind knickers and camisoles in a state of disarray; it begs the question as to whether they had ever been left like this before?

     
  • At March 16, 2009 at 6:09 AM, Blogger Jojo said…

    Ah we each have a secret museum in the attic - every garment has a story attached. Beter than a photograph - our moth-balled selves.

     
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