I was wearing a navy, sleeveless Gunne Sax prairie dress that brushed my legs just above the ankles when my friend told me a girl had given me the rudest look.
The dress has a delicate floral pattern all over, with blue velvet ribbons and delicate pearl buttons on the bodice. I love this dress. It’s one of the few Gunne Sax pieces I’ve found that doesn’t require the wearer to be taller than 5-foot-6 and have a bra size below a B cup.
Just that morning, I had twirled in the mirror, laughing at the realization that I looked a bit like an American Girl doll. Especially with my long hair in two plaits on my shoulders, I definitely could’ve passed for a character from “Little House on the Prairie.” In the past, I might have changed into something less costume-y, but over time, I’ve developed a thick skin when it comes to my clothing.
I grew up in a family that emphasized modern attitudes while still making sure I had an appreciation for all sorts of media and culture that came before. When we weren’t listening to The Laurie Berkner Band, it was The Who and Elvis Costello. Although my parents made sure I got to watch every new “Hannah Montana” episode, I also wore my Shirley Temple boxed DVD set to shreds. I’d watch and rewatch each of her iconic films, trying to replicate her dance moves.
This love for old movies and music only grew, especially as I moved through elementary and middle school and gained more freedom to choose the media I consumed. Audrey Hepburn became my idol. I wanted to walk, talk and dress like her. I couldn’t change my looks or my accent, but I could change how I dressed.
I started with vintage-inspired pieces and slowly graduated to authentic vintage pieces. I collected a piece here or there from Depop or eBay, but it wasn’t until I opened my own vintage store that my collecting quickly increased. These days, even my pajamas are from the 1960s.
Don’t get me wrong — my wardrobe isn’t fully vintage. That’s a level of dedication I haven’t reached and am not sure I ever will. My gym clothes come from fast-fashion giants like Amazon. I don’t think I can see myself swapping out my Target-brand bikinis for an authentic wool swimming costume anytime soon. Still, most of the time, at least one piece of my outfit predates my existence by at least 15 years.
Working to blend pieces from different decades, including the present, is an exercise in style and creativity. I love wearing a vintage skirt with a modern T-shirt or pairing my favorite pair of Free People jeans with a sweater from 1985. It allows me to partake in trends — let’s face it, none of us are immune to their allure — while maintaining a style that is completely my own.
One thing I took for granted before truly diving into my love for vintage clothing is the immense knowledge it takes to date pieces. There’s no requirement for you to know the history of a garment in order to wear it, but for me, knowing is part of the fun.
My natural curiosity is what made me choose to study journalism in college. Every time I fall down a rabbit hole while tracking down a brand that went bankrupt 40 years ago, I feel the same rush as when I pursue a lead for an article. From zippers to RN numbers to deadstock fabric names, there’s a lot to learn, and I do whatever I can to learn more.
Wearing vintage pieces more often was honestly daunting at first. I was scared of being judged for being offbeat, if not off-trend. I quickly realized that people actually love my style! I received more positive feedback than ever before. Still, even if I hadn’t gotten positive reactions, the confidence and happiness I felt in my skin far surpassed how anyone else’s reactions might have made me feel.
So, I thanked my friend for her protectiveness and carried on with my day. Now, I hold my head a little higher, knowing that I’m wearing something that makes me feel my best and holds a whole lot of history.
