Everyone has that one item of clothing in their closet that they don’t want to let go of. It’s too old, it doesn’t fit, it’s outdated. Years go by and we’re still hemming and hawing over whether or not we can wear it just one more time. Well, It’s more common now to keep our old items and hand me downs; more often than none, vintage clothing is more of an exception piece in the fashion world and people are paying big bucks to own them in order to modernize a trend.
While there are many places such as Jet Rag, Melrose Flea Market, American Rag or any consignment stores that collect and resell these fabrics at a hefty price, you’ll also find them being sold amongst private vendors. Unlike the last Friday of the month in Downtown LA, collectors will team up in a vintage shopping spree frenzy.
Normally, Sundays aren’t the typical days I get a chance to spend with one of my besties Jessica. She’s either with her family or traveling for work; so it was nice when she invited me to spend a day with her and her family for vintage shopping.
Pickwick Vintage, is a vintage shopping event where numerous vendors pay a fee to set up shop and use their business in order to build new clientele with those that can appreciate old goods. In our generation, many eras of the past years, decades and centuries are now respected in creating a new trend with stylish wardrobe. I don’t think I’ve ever gone to one of these specific shopping events, but I like mixing up my wardrobe with different looks. When Jess, myself and her family; mother, sister and cousin arrived, it was located in a building near a public garden. The fee to enter wasn’t that much per person, as I’m sure it was to pay for the space being used. That’s typically the norm.
The first room we entered, was only a small preview from the main room that held all the real good stuff. It didn’t take me long to walk back and see an array of clothing, jewelry and accessories in a sea of people. I preferably don’t like shopping especially when you have to dig and search amongst thrift shoppers. I rather something jump out at me with the idea of alluring colors or fabrics and if not, I just become anxious from claustrophobia and dizzy spells. Not fun at all. It was tempting to go through each rack of clothing from one vendor space to another, but there was only one size for each thousands of items and no color code to separate them. Yeah I tend to be a little OCD with that.
There was one particular item that bit me like a spider, knock on wood, and I levitated towards it. Sad enough it was a brown leather jacket with fur trim sleeves. I don’t care much for fur and animal skin, but it was fantastic looking. Curious, I wanted to take a look at the price. $25! Holy crap that’s a steal. I ran out of the room almost taking the jacket to show Jessica and her family, but I quickly remembered to put it back. Telling the group, especially her cousin who really appreciated and understood vintage fashion, she drew the same amount of excitement as mine. Chuckling, she asked me if I was sure that I didn’t miss a number in that price point, which I was sure about, so I grabbed her hand and pulled her to my bargain find. As a coincidence, she already knew the vendor with whom she had shopped before. Excited to show her the gorgeous jacket, I looked at the price tag just to reassure my enthusiasm and womp womp,
Yeah, you see that $525. My heart sunk and I walked away with my credit card right where it belonged. I didn’t dare look at the rest of the rack. Ever hear of the phrase Champagne taste on a beer budget? I left Jessica’s cousin with her friend and walked around continuing to roam the racks. With each roam, I found myself walking in circles to kill the amount of time that Jess and her family were taking looking at vintage jewelry. Surprisingly enough, the vendors weren’t at all abrasive and overbearing in sales tactics. I’ve worked in sales, especially commission for thirteen years, so I know the tricks, but I also let my personality speak volumes over the sharks. There was no pressure to purchase every damn thing you touched, so that also took away a bit of anxiety. When standing in one of the vendors area while looking at the racks, I could’ve sworn I heard a squeaky toy and when I looked closely, it was a pint sized toy dog, except it was real.
What the heck is that, as I laughed
It was the cutest thing ever! In fact, because I was so curious and allowed my love for dogs to get the best of me, I brought even more attention to the little pup and her human mother.
You could tell that the majority of these men and women knew how to search for a good bargain. They each had a style that worked with their personality and preference. You had the: fashion eccentrics, just rolled out of bed, the hipsters, stuck in the past, Vintage trendsetters and I don’t know what in God’s name they were wearing.
Some of the vendors brought in their own original pieces. Nice way to capitalize while you can. Have your very own business in the midst of another business.This women had the right idea with her custom made handbags. Described as needlepoint vintage purses, she drew in a crowd of interested buyers, as I’m sure helps her online store at Heavenly Handbags . The bags were becoming big sellers, something you would think only a woman of a certain age would like, but not necessarily.
After awhile, I became bored because there was just too much. I started to phase out of my shopping enthusiasm and just became a people watcher. I started watching one woman closely and how she was one of those needy pest shoppers whose forever wasting your time. The type that will spend hours in a fitting room looking for praise and approval from anyone who cares enough to give it to her. She’s a snot, brash, and nit-picky. The type who will find multiple excuses why she doesn’t want to purchase the item instead of saying, thank you for all the time you’ve wasted on me. I use to come across many of those types while working at Nordstroms, and they got blacklisted at the drop of a hat. That’s why I stuck with my lucky number 7 regulars and gave the scraps to the rookie hires.
This woman bounced around the entire room until I grew tired of her antics. It’s getting stuffy in here and I need to get the hell out of here. I made my way towards the exit in order to go outside for fresh air while everyone else continued to shop. Jess has amazing taste in clothing and her style is that of Urban Chic, so she’s really good at finding a lot of pieces and blending them into one hell of a fashion statement.
While outside, I got front row to the most ridiculous customer complaint, but oh so very common. Some of these women were on another level of entitlement when it came to their vintage. One haggardly older woman was being a complete nuisance about a piece of garment she had purchased and the sewing job or apparently lack there of. I watched as she berated a tall man even having the laughable audacity of calling the police if her request were not met. He was no push over though and set her straight real quick by rebuking her irrational argument. Unfortunately, this was another red flag customer who takes the Customers always right concept to the extreme. Let me clarify. If a customer told me that the sky was purple, I’d tell them to find another eye doctor. The argument grew into a literal screaming match between her and the woman who sold her the garment.
Then I heard the word bi***!
Oh this is getting good
Screw the fresh air, so I watched from my front row outlet to charge my phone until a mutual agreement was made that she could exchange the item. The older women even had the gall to demand an apology after calling the other woman out of her name, I was through and with good timing, Jess and her family were rounding each other up.
This is particularly the reason why I left sells and vowed to never return, but generally speaking this headache is in every field. Jess left with a necklace and ring while the others bought a few small things. One thing I grew to understand is that not everything is as authentic as it may appear to be. You’ll always get a few swindlers trying to over sell you on an item that just isn’t and give the allusion that it is. So Jess would be my go to girl to sniff out the fakes in a heartbeat.
It was fun for a moment, but just not my cup of tea. For those who consider shopping as a therapeutic session, sure, have all the therapy you need; however, this was more of an insane asylum visit. I prefer to have a pre set game plan of what I need, walk into a store on a mission and get in and out of dodge.
Happy Vintaging!
