When I first started collecting vintage clothing I loved it because it transformed me. I was a shy, insecure junior high school student who was bad at sports and unable to stand up for myself. I wore the normal, dull clothes of the late seventies- corduroy pants, acrylic sweaters, slip on comfortable shoes. My hair was cut in a modified Dorothy Hamil flip that wouldn't feather right, no matter how much I blow dried it. I thought that getting in to the Pom Pom squad would make me instantly into the perky high energy American teenager that I was supposed to be- but no. It just solidified my total apathy about sports and my terror at performance. Besides the cheerleaders were the cool girls. Pom Poms were dorks in brown dresses shaking clumps of shredded paper to the tunes of the Bee Gees.
This is where vintage clothes came to the rescue. When I was fifteen I managed to score a plum silk velvet dress from the estate of a recently deceased former flapper- perfectly fitted along the bias with flamboyant ruffled sleeves. When I put the dress on, I was an elegant young woman whose clothing fit perfectly and whose rather muddy green eyes suddenly stood out. I was ready to go to a party where they served things like oysters and champagne, where handsome boys wished to speak to me behind the potted palms rather than yelling "One, Two Three Four, Get those Horses Off the Floor!" This artifact of a vanished time was going to help me to simply rise above my current situation and become someone else. And that was good.
Now my reasons for loving vintage clothing have become more complex. I don't escape with the clothes any more, in fact few of them fit me. I don't have a desire to be glamorous or cool, or to be noticed on the red carpet. In fact my everyday clothing now is strictly functional and more suited to rough and tumble auctions than high toned parties. I think what I do have, which keeps my interest, is a desire to see the past reignited, if only briefly. For example: last week I went to an auction. There was a pile of very old clothing sitting on an oak chair. I looked at it enough to see that it was from the twenties through the fifties, some of it in poor condition and all of it dirty. I bought it, stuffed it into a box and took it home. I washed what was salvageable and brought it to the shop. Immediately Juliana, my sometime employee, honed in on a peacock print rayon dress from the late 40's with cap sleeves, hand sewn with dressmaker's touches like seam binding and tiny stitching on the neckline. She changed out of her yoga type flowing clothing into this dress and became a woman of the 40's, brave, self sufficient, making her own pretty dress and wearing it proudly. No one else on K street would have this dress. She would be stopped by fashion students ask where it came from, the fabric and cut were so "other" than what we see now. And I am thinking- there is a link between Juliana and the person that wore this dress, a tenuous hand holding from the past to the future that became real when she put the dress on . As Faulker said ," The past isn't dead, it isn't even past." We are living in the same world, experiencing the same seasons, vicissitudes of life, hopes, fears , dreams of those who have lived before us. And when we wear their clothes, we are in a sense connecting with them, showing that our humanity is the same, despite the dramatic ways the world has changed in the last seventy years.
So, from a teenager seeking an escape from her dull, suburban identity I have evolved into a kind of Dr. Frankenstien of fabric. The seeking out, rehabilitating and eventual repurposing of antique clothes is a way of reanimating something that was once a vital part of everyday life- the clothes on people's backs. However, these are not usually ordinary clothes. The clothes that survive the decades are those with a special significance to the wearer- a wedding gown, a prom dress, a dress so extravagant and beautiful that to throw it away would be wrong . By wearing them again we can forge a bond between the past and the present, and show that the concept of time is something that can perhaps be bent, or overcome in subtle ways. I am sure my interest in history, vintage clothing and the artifacts of everyday life will evolve as I do. And this is why I do it, to find out how.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Wedding Gowns-The More Things Change, The More They Stay The Same
Due to a recent article in the Washington Post's 'Local Living' section that touted PollySue's as a place to sell your vintage wedding gown, we have been innudated by gowns. The most interesting aspect of this was seeing that there was always 'the dress' for any era. Just as 'the dress' for the past ten years or so has been a strapless white satin ballgown (look at the weddings section of the paper for proof, or any bridal magazine) 'the dress' for each decade has a definitive look, varying only in the details or expensiveness of the fabric.
Our first wedding dress vendor came in with four gowns, each one a perfect example of its time period. The dress from the 1930's was a slinky bias cut satin with a high bustline and covered buttons up the front. A slight train completed the look-and was echoed in every wedding dress I have seen from the 1930's. Perhaps because this was a time of financial hardship the use of fabric was sparing, concentrating more on the cut and minimal frills (no lace, only same fabric frills around the high neck.)
The second dress, a Mad Men era gown from 1962, showed all the hallmarks of its time. Made of a stiff synthetic satin the dress had capped sleeves and a fitted lace embellished bodice with covered buttons down the back. It had a full belled skirt puffed out by a tulle underslip and it was a size zero-so small that only the most petite contemporary woman could wear it. THe early sixties was by far the most common era of gowns we have had come in- and 'the dress' is echoed in all of them- with only a difference in the details on the front skirt- some with bows and lace medallions, some with a slight pearl beading. The use of fabric was not as sparing as the 30's dress, but still less than lavish, concentrating more on a stiff structured look which I suppose those brides aspired to, the early sixties being the last years before the great changes of the late sixties(womans liberation, civil rights, the assasination of many influential political figures, the Vietnam War...the list goes on. )
The third dress I was shown skipped back ten years to 1952 and shows the period in sharp detail. A lavish use of material and a showy 'Princess' quality was 'he dress'for the fifties. A slim fitted bodice of tight mesh lace embroidered with exploding curlicues of lace and pearls. A sweetheart neck satin camisole showing through the lace. A skirt of yards and yards of fluffy pale pink tulle with a long train (that I got stuck in while steaming it-quite comical). This dress shows the exhuberance of the fifties-the wish to splash out with expensive fabric and intricate detail and spare no expense since the lean years of the Depression and the War were finally over and brides everywhere wanted to have their dream wedding with the house and picket fence at the other side. For most of the decade the dress remained the same-only getting a bit stiffer and more structured by the late fifties-but overall a classic 'princess' gown like that worn by Glinda the Good Witch in 'The Wizard of OZ'.
The last gown pulled out of it's blue garment bag was from 1989- a heavy satin and beaded dress studded with pearls on its fitted long sleeved bodice with a low cut u neckline. This dress was the only dress that fit me (an average size 12) and as I swept upstairs in it to show my coworkers they exclaimed 'That bow on the back is crazy!'. And it did have the charactaristic monster 80's bow flat on the backside underneath the row of satin buttons (which by this time were only for show-they concealed a easily moving zipper.) So the dress for the 80's was rich heavy satin, quite covered up but full of expensive details-embroidery, lace, pearls, beadwork. This reflected the times of glitz and excess, where the average person aspired to be a character from 'Dynasty' or the resplendent Princess Diana whose train would reach the entire length of the shop and half way across the street.
So, I have learned these things:
Each time has 'the dress'. The farther back you go ,the smaller the dress and the harder it is to get into (one dress had sixty covered buttons that took half an hour to fasten. ) And the number of gowns from divorced brides jumped as we got to the seventies alhough generally the dresses were from happy marriages that have stood the test of time.
In fact, some of the sweetest moments of this whole dress experience was meeting the couples who are still married after sixty years (one couple in particular still smiling at each other and looking as exhuberant now as they did in their wedding picture of 1949). I asked this couple what their secret was to a long marriage and they said 'Being able to have arguments'. Wow. Another couple bringing in an impossibly tiny short gown from 1960 telling me that no this was not the bride- this was a classmate and friend of the bride who reconnected with the groom after she died and eventually started dating (I saw them kissing on the street like teenagers!)
Please come in and see all of these beautiful gowns, learn their story, try them on and think of making them walk down the asile another time, breaking the strapless satin ballgown mold we are all so familiar with.
Our first wedding dress vendor came in with four gowns, each one a perfect example of its time period. The dress from the 1930's was a slinky bias cut satin with a high bustline and covered buttons up the front. A slight train completed the look-and was echoed in every wedding dress I have seen from the 1930's. Perhaps because this was a time of financial hardship the use of fabric was sparing, concentrating more on the cut and minimal frills (no lace, only same fabric frills around the high neck.)
The second dress, a Mad Men era gown from 1962, showed all the hallmarks of its time. Made of a stiff synthetic satin the dress had capped sleeves and a fitted lace embellished bodice with covered buttons down the back. It had a full belled skirt puffed out by a tulle underslip and it was a size zero-so small that only the most petite contemporary woman could wear it. THe early sixties was by far the most common era of gowns we have had come in- and 'the dress' is echoed in all of them- with only a difference in the details on the front skirt- some with bows and lace medallions, some with a slight pearl beading. The use of fabric was not as sparing as the 30's dress, but still less than lavish, concentrating more on a stiff structured look which I suppose those brides aspired to, the early sixties being the last years before the great changes of the late sixties(womans liberation, civil rights, the assasination of many influential political figures, the Vietnam War...the list goes on. )
The third dress I was shown skipped back ten years to 1952 and shows the period in sharp detail. A lavish use of material and a showy 'Princess' quality was 'he dress'for the fifties. A slim fitted bodice of tight mesh lace embroidered with exploding curlicues of lace and pearls. A sweetheart neck satin camisole showing through the lace. A skirt of yards and yards of fluffy pale pink tulle with a long train (that I got stuck in while steaming it-quite comical). This dress shows the exhuberance of the fifties-the wish to splash out with expensive fabric and intricate detail and spare no expense since the lean years of the Depression and the War were finally over and brides everywhere wanted to have their dream wedding with the house and picket fence at the other side. For most of the decade the dress remained the same-only getting a bit stiffer and more structured by the late fifties-but overall a classic 'princess' gown like that worn by Glinda the Good Witch in 'The Wizard of OZ'.
The last gown pulled out of it's blue garment bag was from 1989- a heavy satin and beaded dress studded with pearls on its fitted long sleeved bodice with a low cut u neckline. This dress was the only dress that fit me (an average size 12) and as I swept upstairs in it to show my coworkers they exclaimed 'That bow on the back is crazy!'. And it did have the charactaristic monster 80's bow flat on the backside underneath the row of satin buttons (which by this time were only for show-they concealed a easily moving zipper.) So the dress for the 80's was rich heavy satin, quite covered up but full of expensive details-embroidery, lace, pearls, beadwork. This reflected the times of glitz and excess, where the average person aspired to be a character from 'Dynasty' or the resplendent Princess Diana whose train would reach the entire length of the shop and half way across the street.
So, I have learned these things:
Each time has 'the dress'. The farther back you go ,the smaller the dress and the harder it is to get into (one dress had sixty covered buttons that took half an hour to fasten. ) And the number of gowns from divorced brides jumped as we got to the seventies alhough generally the dresses were from happy marriages that have stood the test of time.
In fact, some of the sweetest moments of this whole dress experience was meeting the couples who are still married after sixty years (one couple in particular still smiling at each other and looking as exhuberant now as they did in their wedding picture of 1949). I asked this couple what their secret was to a long marriage and they said 'Being able to have arguments'. Wow. Another couple bringing in an impossibly tiny short gown from 1960 telling me that no this was not the bride- this was a classmate and friend of the bride who reconnected with the groom after she died and eventually started dating (I saw them kissing on the street like teenagers!)
Please come in and see all of these beautiful gowns, learn their story, try them on and think of making them walk down the asile another time, breaking the strapless satin ballgown mold we are all so familiar with.
Pollysue's Shop
PollySue's Vintage Shop was founded in November, 1999 and has been in operation ever since. Founded by Polly Baker and Susan Collings, PollySue's is a vintage shop in the grand tradition- a two level space with bright walls and a stamped tin ceiling in historic Old Town, Takoma Park, Maryland.
PollySue's carries top notch vintage clothes ranging anywhere from the 1850's to the 1970's. We have been a favorite of theater groups, opera companies, dancers, musicians, high school musicals, prom going teenagers, brides and anyone seeking original and stylish clothing.
PollySue's carries top notch vintage clothes ranging anywhere from the 1850's to the 1970's. We have been a favorite of theater groups, opera companies, dancers, musicians, high school musicals, prom going teenagers, brides and anyone seeking original and stylish clothing.
Thrift, Consignment, Vintage and Antique
I can't say how many times a customer has called a friend on her cellphone and said that she is currently browisng in a "thrift store" in Takoma Park. Jackie and I try to gently correct the person saying that PollySue's is a "Vintage" shop, and that there is a world of difference between us and say, Value Village on University Blvd. in College Park. What is this difference? And what sets PollySue's inventory apart from a consignment shop, a thrift store, and an antique shop?
First of all, a thrift store is an all donation operation, in which people give their used clothes to a charity so that they can be sold at low cost to people who cannot otherwise afford new clothes. Hopefully (in the case of Good Will and Salvation Army) the proceeds from the sale of donated merchandise will go to a good cause. Those who get the willies about wearing "dead people's clothes" have an aversion to thrift stores, since generally most of the garments come from estates-ie the closets of people who have recently died and have no use for them any more. OF course, there are people who regularly cull their closets of last season's purchases, so not all the clothes at a thrift are of estate origin, but I would estimate that a good 80% of them are. This means that what you find in thrift stores usually is the clothes from some 20-30 years ago since those are the people who have recently died (sorry, there is no way to sugar coat that!) So a thrift store has alot of old people's comfy clothes (elastic pants, polyester mu mus) and the adult wardrobe of people now in their seventies, which would be 1970's and 1980's suits and dresses. Combine clothes like this with contemporary cast offs (the unwearably trendy, the damaged, and the unsellable) and you have the average clothing content of a thrift store. If you go to thrift stores regularly you will find some good vintage pieces (which I will define later) but these a few and far between and avidly sought after by the small army of "pickers" -people who sell vintage clothes on Ebay, the owners of vintage stores, low budget costumers (highschool plays, local theater groups) and the die hard bargain shopper who refuses to pay over $20.00 for any thing regardless of what it is. Don't get me wrong- I love thrift stores. In among the unfashionable junk you can occasionally unearth a treasure and the thrill of discovery is part of the fun. However, I would say of the thousands of garments in a large Value Village perhaps fifty of them are old enough to qualify as "vintage" and only four or five of them have the condition, wearability and style to be seriously considered by a vintage clothing buyer.
Before I define "vintage" I want to explain what a consignment store is. This is a store where people bring in their gently worn contemporary garments to be resold. The consignment store typically keeps 50% of the proceeds from the sale, sometimes more. Consignment stores want contemporary clothes (no older than 5 -6 years) in perfect condition. Since the owners of consignment stores do not go out and seek their garments they can only sell what comes in, which makes a uniform style or quality difficult to maintain. Several area consignment stores deal in second hand designer clothes which a customer can get for much less than they would if they were new.
So- what is "vintage" you may ask? Vintage clothing to me is clothing that is forty or more years old (which now would mean 1970 and older). However, the age itself doesn't make it vintage. Just because a garment was made in 1965 doesn't mean that someone today would want to wear it. Vintage clothes are clothes with the distinction of great quality and craftsmanship, enduring style, and in good to perfect condition. How many times have I come across a wonderful 1950's party dress to find the underarms stained, mothholes in the fabric, the zipper rusted shut! This particular dress would not be able to be worn without extensive rennovation and repair- meaning I would not buy it to begin with. Sadly, since vintage clothes have been worn before, many of them fall into this category and the vintage shop buyer has to be an expert at examining all of the trouble spots for wear and damage. Vintage clothes tend to be from the more exclusive and expensive department store of the past since the higher quality of the garment means it has a longer life. We see lots of dresses from local high- end department stores that no longer exist-Ralieghs, Garfinkels, Lansburghs to name a few. This high quality is also what makes vintage clothes such a bargain- since you are getting coture quailty at a fraction of the price.
A question I am always asked is "How do you get this stuff?" The answer is it is a continual hunt that takes up most of my time. I shop at thrift stores, yes, but only a tiny fraction of the merchandise in the store is found there for the reasons listed above. I go to auctions every week where estates are sold off piece by piece to the highest bidder. This can be a good source of vintage clothes but it is competitive. I also go to estate sales every week for which entry is restricted to a small number of people at a time, the first ones usually grabbing all of the best items. So- the merchandise in a vintage store, rather than being donated like a thrift store or brought in by consigners like a consignment store is hunted down piece by piece by the buyers- in our case by myself, Jackie and Mark. The clothing often requires cleaning and minor repair which the vintage clothing dealer must be an expert in.
'Antique' clothing is a category of vintage that is usually restricted to serious collectors and costume designers who want to copy the look for a play. This is defined as clothing 70 years or older-dating from pre 1940. This is the clothing on the walls at Pollysue's, and because of its age it is very fragile. It is usually more suited to a display rather than actual wear, and its tiny size usually limits the number of contemporary people who can actually fit in it.
I could write so much more about my now 13 year quest for vintage clothing, and perhaps will when I have more time. I hope this blog entry has answered a few frequently asked questions about the nature of what we are trying to do.
First of all, a thrift store is an all donation operation, in which people give their used clothes to a charity so that they can be sold at low cost to people who cannot otherwise afford new clothes. Hopefully (in the case of Good Will and Salvation Army) the proceeds from the sale of donated merchandise will go to a good cause. Those who get the willies about wearing "dead people's clothes" have an aversion to thrift stores, since generally most of the garments come from estates-ie the closets of people who have recently died and have no use for them any more. OF course, there are people who regularly cull their closets of last season's purchases, so not all the clothes at a thrift are of estate origin, but I would estimate that a good 80% of them are. This means that what you find in thrift stores usually is the clothes from some 20-30 years ago since those are the people who have recently died (sorry, there is no way to sugar coat that!) So a thrift store has alot of old people's comfy clothes (elastic pants, polyester mu mus) and the adult wardrobe of people now in their seventies, which would be 1970's and 1980's suits and dresses. Combine clothes like this with contemporary cast offs (the unwearably trendy, the damaged, and the unsellable) and you have the average clothing content of a thrift store. If you go to thrift stores regularly you will find some good vintage pieces (which I will define later) but these a few and far between and avidly sought after by the small army of "pickers" -people who sell vintage clothes on Ebay, the owners of vintage stores, low budget costumers (highschool plays, local theater groups) and the die hard bargain shopper who refuses to pay over $20.00 for any thing regardless of what it is. Don't get me wrong- I love thrift stores. In among the unfashionable junk you can occasionally unearth a treasure and the thrill of discovery is part of the fun. However, I would say of the thousands of garments in a large Value Village perhaps fifty of them are old enough to qualify as "vintage" and only four or five of them have the condition, wearability and style to be seriously considered by a vintage clothing buyer.
Before I define "vintage" I want to explain what a consignment store is. This is a store where people bring in their gently worn contemporary garments to be resold. The consignment store typically keeps 50% of the proceeds from the sale, sometimes more. Consignment stores want contemporary clothes (no older than 5 -6 years) in perfect condition. Since the owners of consignment stores do not go out and seek their garments they can only sell what comes in, which makes a uniform style or quality difficult to maintain. Several area consignment stores deal in second hand designer clothes which a customer can get for much less than they would if they were new.
So- what is "vintage" you may ask? Vintage clothing to me is clothing that is forty or more years old (which now would mean 1970 and older). However, the age itself doesn't make it vintage. Just because a garment was made in 1965 doesn't mean that someone today would want to wear it. Vintage clothes are clothes with the distinction of great quality and craftsmanship, enduring style, and in good to perfect condition. How many times have I come across a wonderful 1950's party dress to find the underarms stained, mothholes in the fabric, the zipper rusted shut! This particular dress would not be able to be worn without extensive rennovation and repair- meaning I would not buy it to begin with. Sadly, since vintage clothes have been worn before, many of them fall into this category and the vintage shop buyer has to be an expert at examining all of the trouble spots for wear and damage. Vintage clothes tend to be from the more exclusive and expensive department store of the past since the higher quality of the garment means it has a longer life. We see lots of dresses from local high- end department stores that no longer exist-Ralieghs, Garfinkels, Lansburghs to name a few. This high quality is also what makes vintage clothes such a bargain- since you are getting coture quailty at a fraction of the price.
A question I am always asked is "How do you get this stuff?" The answer is it is a continual hunt that takes up most of my time. I shop at thrift stores, yes, but only a tiny fraction of the merchandise in the store is found there for the reasons listed above. I go to auctions every week where estates are sold off piece by piece to the highest bidder. This can be a good source of vintage clothes but it is competitive. I also go to estate sales every week for which entry is restricted to a small number of people at a time, the first ones usually grabbing all of the best items. So- the merchandise in a vintage store, rather than being donated like a thrift store or brought in by consigners like a consignment store is hunted down piece by piece by the buyers- in our case by myself, Jackie and Mark. The clothing often requires cleaning and minor repair which the vintage clothing dealer must be an expert in.
'Antique' clothing is a category of vintage that is usually restricted to serious collectors and costume designers who want to copy the look for a play. This is defined as clothing 70 years or older-dating from pre 1940. This is the clothing on the walls at Pollysue's, and because of its age it is very fragile. It is usually more suited to a display rather than actual wear, and its tiny size usually limits the number of contemporary people who can actually fit in it.
I could write so much more about my now 13 year quest for vintage clothing, and perhaps will when I have more time. I hope this blog entry has answered a few frequently asked questions about the nature of what we are trying to do.
Wuthering Heights" Bites the Dust and Other Oddities of a Vintage "Picker"
I majored in English Literature and got a MFA in poetry writing. After being tossed and turned in the world of employment like a tee shirt in a dryer, I finally settled on antiques and vintage clothing as a career and found, if not riches, a niche of sorts for myself and my romantic tendencies. And I mean romantic in the literary sense-the windswept moor, the heroine in the long white gown running from the forboding mansion into the arms of the circumspect yet secretly aristocratic fisherman who lives in the gatekeeper's mansion. Working with the artifacts of a vanished time appeals to me simply because I wished I lived in that vanished time and had the use of these artifacts when they were new.
Last Wednesday at the country auction on the Eastern Shore that I attend every week, my romantic hunger was satisfied by a cardboard box of impossibly dainty parasols, most made of tissue thin silk and festooned with lace with carved ivory handles and fluttering, decayed pink ribbon rosettes. Sadly ,the parasols sold to a grim faced middle aged man who bought them for $110.00. Still, the thought of twirling one while being rowed down a flower choked river by my suitor was planted in my head. Perhaps I would even eat strawberries, like Tess of the D'Urbervilles did in the 80's movie starring Nastassia Kinski.
My subject for this blog entry however is not the parasols, the bravely surviving white cotton muslin gowns worn by some high school graduate in 1910 or even the sterling silver compact from 1915 with the rouge still in it. These items had buyers. They did not suffer the fate of some of the finest masterpieces of world literature which were discarded from the auction lots as having no resale value and literally stepped on by hard as nails antique dealers on their way to their next cash cow. "Moby Dick", "Hamlet", "Remembrance of Things Past", "Jane Eyre"--the list goes on of classic books that I have salvaged from the mud at this auction and brought home and read. That means I have an eclectic and wide ranging library of the best that was ever thought or written for absoloutely no cost. Last week one of my favorite books "Wuthering Heights" by Emily Bronte was being punted around like a soccer ball. I dove in and removed it and it rests on my night stand, ready to be reread for the fifth time. It is also heavily annotated by the student who studied it in highschool.
Letters, diaries and personal snap shots are also discarded and I have stacks of them at home. One diary gave me a detailed account of the weather for each day of 1947, written by a sad older lady who lived with her recently divorced daughter and her granddaughter. Entries like "Mary came in this morning at 4:30 and then got up to have breakfast with George" don't exactly spell out what happened, but you can read between the lines.
So, besides getting free literature I also get glimpses into the everyday ordinary lives of people from the past- their Christmas snapshots, their wedding photos, their baby pictures, their prom photos. I don't know who they were (or are) but I feel that I have salvaged a bit of their lives that may otherwise go in the shredder or be pushed up by the backhoe that the auction people use to clean up the field after the auction is over. The antiques profession teaches us that nothing lasts forever- the possessions that we work so hard to buy end their lives being sifted through by strangers assessing their resale value (the scene in "A Christmas Carol" comes to mind when the junk sellers are arguing over the recently deceased Scrooge's bedlinens). When it comes down to it it is experience not possessions that really matters- so that leaves my job of experience with long gone people's possessions somewhat of a contradiction. Perhaps I should write a poem about it, though I am fully aware that this poem would not be salvaged from the dirt at the auction by someone like me in the future.
Last Wednesday at the country auction on the Eastern Shore that I attend every week, my romantic hunger was satisfied by a cardboard box of impossibly dainty parasols, most made of tissue thin silk and festooned with lace with carved ivory handles and fluttering, decayed pink ribbon rosettes. Sadly ,the parasols sold to a grim faced middle aged man who bought them for $110.00. Still, the thought of twirling one while being rowed down a flower choked river by my suitor was planted in my head. Perhaps I would even eat strawberries, like Tess of the D'Urbervilles did in the 80's movie starring Nastassia Kinski.
My subject for this blog entry however is not the parasols, the bravely surviving white cotton muslin gowns worn by some high school graduate in 1910 or even the sterling silver compact from 1915 with the rouge still in it. These items had buyers. They did not suffer the fate of some of the finest masterpieces of world literature which were discarded from the auction lots as having no resale value and literally stepped on by hard as nails antique dealers on their way to their next cash cow. "Moby Dick", "Hamlet", "Remembrance of Things Past", "Jane Eyre"--the list goes on of classic books that I have salvaged from the mud at this auction and brought home and read. That means I have an eclectic and wide ranging library of the best that was ever thought or written for absoloutely no cost. Last week one of my favorite books "Wuthering Heights" by Emily Bronte was being punted around like a soccer ball. I dove in and removed it and it rests on my night stand, ready to be reread for the fifth time. It is also heavily annotated by the student who studied it in highschool.
Letters, diaries and personal snap shots are also discarded and I have stacks of them at home. One diary gave me a detailed account of the weather for each day of 1947, written by a sad older lady who lived with her recently divorced daughter and her granddaughter. Entries like "Mary came in this morning at 4:30 and then got up to have breakfast with George" don't exactly spell out what happened, but you can read between the lines.
So, besides getting free literature I also get glimpses into the everyday ordinary lives of people from the past- their Christmas snapshots, their wedding photos, their baby pictures, their prom photos. I don't know who they were (or are) but I feel that I have salvaged a bit of their lives that may otherwise go in the shredder or be pushed up by the backhoe that the auction people use to clean up the field after the auction is over. The antiques profession teaches us that nothing lasts forever- the possessions that we work so hard to buy end their lives being sifted through by strangers assessing their resale value (the scene in "A Christmas Carol" comes to mind when the junk sellers are arguing over the recently deceased Scrooge's bedlinens). When it comes down to it it is experience not possessions that really matters- so that leaves my job of experience with long gone people's possessions somewhat of a contradiction. Perhaps I should write a poem about it, though I am fully aware that this poem would not be salvaged from the dirt at the auction by someone like me in the future.
Hat wearing: A Study
Some people seem born to wear hats. Take the recent royal wedding as evidence. The daughters of Sarah Ferguson are not born hat wearers. Their absurd toppers could have been pulled off by a born hat wearer who finds it perfectly natural to have a minature beige rollercoaster or an angry tuft of feathers on her head. These girls, however, had a "look at my crazy hat" defiance that defeats the purpose of hat wearing. The hat should be part of the whole person, a seamless outcropping of the wearer's very being. The Queen of England personifies the born hat wearer. The daffodil yellow hat, jaunty and spring cheerful seemed both an expression of her joy at her grandson's marriage and also an organic part of who she truly is. Kate Middleton by all appearances seems to be another born hat wearer. The quivering "fascinators" that perch on her forhead like butterflies, or the wide brimmed straws that boast all manner of complicated potruberances look right on her, like she has been wearing such things without paying them too much attention for most of her life. Her choice of a simple viel and a modestly sized tiara had just the right message to her future mother in law in the front row- I speak the language of hats and I defer the crown to you....for now .
In PollySue's I see some little girls walk up to the hat rack and expertly perch complicated hats on their heads, giving their parents a mysterious smile. They don't have to ask which is the right way around, or wether the veil goes over their eyes or their neck. They just know . Other little girls guffaw and point at their reflection as a flowered straw hat is placed upon their heads. "Look how funny I look !"they laugh, and rip the hat off. In the world of hat wearers I fall in the latter category. I was not born to wear hats, and they don't look right on my head, even the straw sunhats I wear at auctions to keep the sun off my face. I am continually aware of this THING on my head that makes me look silly. I am self conscious, I do not see the hat as being a part of me. I would be evicserated by Joan Rivers on the Fashion Police if I tried to walk down the aisle of Westminster Abbey in any hat whatsoever (although she was very hard on the Prime Minister's wife for not wearing a hat.)
I do think that born hat wearers can teach the "scaredey hats" among us a few things about hat panache. One of our regulars here in the shop checks in every week for new hats and approaches the hat rack with gravity and purpose. She always chooses the most interesting, the most colorful and the most elaborate of our hats and places it on her head. With her high cheekbones and regal posture the hat looks just right, as if it were made for her. She repeats this process with almost every hat we have and they ALL look right. They look like part of her personality. How does she do this? I think it is a combination of confidence , poise and that elusive something called glamour that is the very essence of born hatness. It is the thinking that it is perfectly right and natural to turn heads by wearing a hat, no matter for what occasion wether it be digging up tomato plants or attending a society wedding. I also add that born hatness is not confined to women only- there are men who can carry off a top hat or a straw boater with equal ease. One boy of about ten walked by my desk wearing a fedora that looked so much a part of him I assumed he came in wearing it. It was only when he handed me some money that I found out it was ours. His mother later told me that he wore it to school all week and wouldn't even take it off at home.
As a non hat type person I have one story that can give hope to other non hat people. Deep inside an old paper bag at the auction I go to I pulled out a charming 1920's cloche hat. It was made of ivory silk with a tangerine silk band. I put it on my head and unsually for me, it fit perfectly. I bought the hat and took it home, knowing that the brown rust spots on it made it unsellable. Still, when I put it on I felt different, more glamourous, as if I was on my way to some champagne summer garden party filled with interesting and beautiful people. Perhaps with non hat people it was just a matter of findinig that elusive one hat that fits your personality- that feels like you, not like something foriegn on top of your head. I certainly couldn't compete with Kate Middleton or the Queen of England or my best hat customer. But I could say, without irony, this hat, c'est moi.
In PollySue's I see some little girls walk up to the hat rack and expertly perch complicated hats on their heads, giving their parents a mysterious smile. They don't have to ask which is the right way around, or wether the veil goes over their eyes or their neck. They just know . Other little girls guffaw and point at their reflection as a flowered straw hat is placed upon their heads. "Look how funny I look !"they laugh, and rip the hat off. In the world of hat wearers I fall in the latter category. I was not born to wear hats, and they don't look right on my head, even the straw sunhats I wear at auctions to keep the sun off my face. I am continually aware of this THING on my head that makes me look silly. I am self conscious, I do not see the hat as being a part of me. I would be evicserated by Joan Rivers on the Fashion Police if I tried to walk down the aisle of Westminster Abbey in any hat whatsoever (although she was very hard on the Prime Minister's wife for not wearing a hat.)
I do think that born hat wearers can teach the "scaredey hats" among us a few things about hat panache. One of our regulars here in the shop checks in every week for new hats and approaches the hat rack with gravity and purpose. She always chooses the most interesting, the most colorful and the most elaborate of our hats and places it on her head. With her high cheekbones and regal posture the hat looks just right, as if it were made for her. She repeats this process with almost every hat we have and they ALL look right. They look like part of her personality. How does she do this? I think it is a combination of confidence , poise and that elusive something called glamour that is the very essence of born hatness. It is the thinking that it is perfectly right and natural to turn heads by wearing a hat, no matter for what occasion wether it be digging up tomato plants or attending a society wedding. I also add that born hatness is not confined to women only- there are men who can carry off a top hat or a straw boater with equal ease. One boy of about ten walked by my desk wearing a fedora that looked so much a part of him I assumed he came in wearing it. It was only when he handed me some money that I found out it was ours. His mother later told me that he wore it to school all week and wouldn't even take it off at home.
As a non hat type person I have one story that can give hope to other non hat people. Deep inside an old paper bag at the auction I go to I pulled out a charming 1920's cloche hat. It was made of ivory silk with a tangerine silk band. I put it on my head and unsually for me, it fit perfectly. I bought the hat and took it home, knowing that the brown rust spots on it made it unsellable. Still, when I put it on I felt different, more glamourous, as if I was on my way to some champagne summer garden party filled with interesting and beautiful people. Perhaps with non hat people it was just a matter of findinig that elusive one hat that fits your personality- that feels like you, not like something foriegn on top of your head. I certainly couldn't compete with Kate Middleton or the Queen of England or my best hat customer. But I could say, without irony, this hat, c'est moi.
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