Truth be told, I went through this punk/ska phase where I didn’t wear any denim for about 5 years; however this didn’t stop me from picking up any killer pair of jeans that I ran across in my thrifting travels. So I’ve amassed quite the collection. Especially worn out, wallet impression on the back pocket, heavy denim men’s Levi’s. I don’t care if they “fit” properly, if they look like they have been through a war zone in the construction world or rustling steer, good; to me that’s character and character makes the clothes.
Throughout the continuous weeding out of my clothing I’ve come close to letting some of this denim go but am glad I didn’t. I’m finding that I’m reverting to a more polished grown up version of my teenage self. I’ve figured out how to couple vintage denim with heels and wedges. I’ve learned how to make vintage men’s denim work appropriate. I embrace cuffing of all kinds including my personal favorite the french roll.
This all started with a pair that I picked up at the Dearborn Goodwill in Seattle.
Oh, the Dearborn Goodwill. A wondrous cavernous magical place. Hours of my youth were spent in that building. First as a little girl hiding in the clothes racks and then as a teenager with no where else to go, this particular Goodwill became a place of solace for me and to this day I will go comb through thrift store racks to clear my head.
Anyway, as any good old fashioned, small town, (yes, Seattle was once a small town and it was a wonderful time) poor Seattleite will tell you, back in the day there was a museum of sorts in the back which contained curious and valuable items that had been donated throughout the years including a stellar example of taxidermy in the form of a big brown bear standing on his hind legs at the entrance. The floors were wooden, creaky and old. The displays were haphazardly thrown together and occasionally shared tidbits of information on the item or donor. The smell of popcorn from the popper always perfuming the air, I fell in love with society’s castoffs and forgotten things and I never looked back. I always think about this Goodwill when I think about the evolution of thrift stores and what it means to shop at a thrift store. But that’s another story for another time.
I’m finding more and more evidence of how entwined my life experience is with the clothing I wear. Reading back over this post it’s entertaining to me that every time I set out to write about how I “style” something or how to wear something a story comes out instead. Evoked by the memories I’ve attached, it goes so much deeper for me and it will most likely take a encyclopedia sized collection of blog posts to convey what I feel about the clothing I wear and how I wear it. Spotify isn’t helping either, the last three songs to come up on shuffle are songs that were pumping through my headphones while perusing countless racks of clothing. So I think that I will just embrace the story of what I wear and continue to share my deep love for being true to yourself through the clothing you wear.
One story at a time.