The thing with vintage clothing in the fair 'city' of East London is that it exists only in the cupboards of seventy-something year olds who have a penchant for church three times a week and the occasional tea at Floradale Nursery.
There are loads of second hand stores that smell like starch and mothballs (probably the reason our small population falls on the less-stylish side of the scale) and of course, my favorite, the vintage 'inspired' boutiques that only your yuppy grade ten maths teacher and friend's Botox-loving soccer mom would be seen dead in.
Now I'm not bashing the less fortunate who squander their cash in these shops of ill-repute but their fashion-loving successors, who have, to my knowledge (and I was once one of them), moaned about the lack of variety in Slundon's fashion quarters (Vincent Park, Hemmingways and now the odd overpriced boutique) since their conception (at Nahoon Beach in your dad's Nissan bakkie) in our far-from-perfect town.
And yet, when vintage clothing arrives in all it's houndstooth and paisley glory, the desires of the fashion conscious burst into flames and they forget ever begging for the trend that hit the shores of our more competent cities several years ago.
They scuttle off into their suburban homes in the wayfarers and high- tops that define their existence and separate them from the scores of the plastic masses, ignoring the efforts of those who are TRYING to bring something different to this barren land of Slummies.
Pocket money and salaries are still misspent at one of the eight Mr price stores in our town, or carelessly thrown at shoe and bag boutiques that one can find in every shopping mall in the country. The same tacky pairings of Guess T and Levi jeans is seen day in and day out.
No thoughts are given to the principles of style, which clearly dictate that in a world of clever copies and fucked-up fakes, individuality and originality is key. Forgotten is the importance of heritage and beauty, and the responsibility that young fashionistas have as guardians of style, to be pioneers in their choice of clothing and to lead the Vogue-less masses in a prettier direction. Fashion loses it's meaning when we forget that it's importance and relevance lies in it's ability to help us express, communicate and translate our desires into a visual palette of stone-wash denim, leather and lace, and to reflect the identities we try so hard to create.
What vintage clothing offers us, is a second chance at quality - it leads us back into a world of hand stitched elegance and crafted perfection, to a time when care was exercised and the creation of a garment was the work of an artist, not a machine. It brings to life the beauty of another era and refashions old trends into infinite combinations of style and expression. A vintage piece is more than an item worn in a previous decade by somebody older than yourself, it is a time capsule, a throwback from another generation that gives us another opportunity to express ourselves in a way that does differentiate us from the boring norm.
My point is that there are those of us who are trying to give a younger generation of fashion-lovers something we didn't have in East London, something special.
That said, and guilt trip aside, come misspend your hard-earned cash at Ms Tash at Foodelicious cafe, Tecoma Street, Berea.
It's vintage, but it's far from second hand!
