This is a beautiful vintage gown of a dress, circa 1930 something -- a perfectly delicious, carefully ruffled, buttercup yellow, moire taffeta sliver of loveliness, puffed sleeves and all -- that I found on Etsy. There is no zipper. There are no closures. It's cut on the bias. It simply slips on over my head.
(This is the part in my head where I hear Madelene Kahn saying, "Taffeta, darling..." to Gene Wilder in that train station scene from Young Frankenstein. *sigh* Mel Brooks, I love you.)
I'm seriously thinking about wearing this to the Jazz Age Lawn Party. We'll see how I look in it when it gets here.
The quality of vintage clothing is so much better than what's affordable now. And it's always a real kick in the head to wear unique things. I simply can't stand seeing what I'm wearing on anyone else.
I do so love to wear old things. It's like I'm wearing history whenever I dress up in it and strangely, it makes me feel connected to the past in the most reassuring ways. I will wear a 1930s day dress and pass a shop window as I zip down the street and I will glimpse someone from another place and time, and lo and behold, it will be me. That doesn't creep me out. It gives me comfort.
Newton thought that time was absolute. Einstein proved that it was relative. Isn't there a theory that says everything is happening all the time, simultaneously? Why yes, there is. Everything forever, all the time. When I wear vintage, this makes perfect sense.
*sigh*
I am seriously addicted to the good stuff on the Discovery channel.
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