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| Still looks fresh! |
Back when I was a kid, "vintage" did not apply to fashion trends like denim jeans and old prom dresses. "Retro" was not yet the Bettie Page hipster living in Williamsburg off daddy's dime, working a cheap, low-level design job. Antiques were things our parents bought from old barns upstate, found in dusty attics, or buried in basements with years of wear and tear on them that had to be lovingly and patiently removed. Same thing applied to my clothes. They were mostly hand-me-downs from my older brothers, because my parents bought me clothes a few times a year: right before the new school year started in fall, at Christmas time, and for a December child like me, it was also for my birthday. If I grew a shoe size during the interim, we may have made a special trip to Sears or Buster Brown's, a chain that made Mary Jane's and Oxfords for kids; not exactly "hip" by any means, but such were the times. I did not wear pricey Gloria Vanderbilt jeans in the 80s that became a huge trend almost overnight, because my parents argued that it was a complete waste of time and money to buy something we would outgrow so quickly, and they were right.
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| Can't touch this! |
So now, when I go through lean times (like the phase I'm currently in), I know what exactly to do, and that does not include tightening the belt on a pair of $500 jeans. Thrift becomes a habit, just like it was for my Depression-Era grandparents with their survival skills, as does the art of searching for what you need among the things you already have. I read an absurd tag line for an article some weeks back that said mending and tailoring old clothes is now back in style in England. Ha! When I was forced through economy to spend some time last year with a family member, I did so with my typical aplomb, along with my inherent sense of style.
Lo and behold, there among my mom's old stuff in a musty, dark, drippy basement (which I cleaned for her, under her supervision, for a few days straight, wearing plastic gloves as I sorted through the mildewed cardboard and rotting wood), was a box of our old clothes from childhood, and then, like a flash of sunny daylight in the dank depths, there it was: the first ever MTV birthday t-shirt from 1982, celebrating their first year on air (and yes, I did see the first very first MTV video, The Buggles "Video Killed the Radio Star" with my brother after school one afternoon, in total awe) that our dad, who worked in the city for Time Warner Cable, brought home, along with promotional mugs, trade show tote bags, and the latest movie posters. And guess what? You can't buy it anywhere, you fucking hipster.
