Try to keep an open mind when you rummage through the closet of your mom or grandma. Not everything old and musty deserves to be chucked out.
The memory of the time I threw away my mom’s old things haunts me to this day. The entire household was busy with spring cleaning, and little me had been ecstatic at being told I could help out—that is, decide what to dispose of to increase storage space.
For a child, this was empowering, to be allowed that level of decision-making.
So skirts my mom had outgrown were dispatched. I wrinkled my nose at “matchy-matchy” outfits and blouses from some dinosaur era. And the culmination, mod shift dresses with bold colors and prints—no, wait, at the time I thought them to be sacks of thick, coarse textile—ended up in the trash.
I had reached spring cleaning heaven without any idea how much I would kick myself for it in the future.
Inheritance
The sartorial gods eventually forgave my ignorant ways, and brought forth three grandmothers who have left me probably the best inheritance I will ever receive—vintage clothes. My mom would call them banidosa in jest, which I thought meant vanity, considering the clothes they amassed.
Apparently my grandmothers enjoyed clothes and had been very fashionable in their day. They loved to party and dance in trendy custom-made frocks matched with fancy footwear by local shoemakers. Accessories were unlike the bling and “it” bags of today: chunky clip-on earrings, simple strands of pearls and semiprecious stones, metal and ivory brooches, heavily beaded or leather minaudieres.
Casual wear consisted of dresses and ensembles of similar cuts and styles, but in varied textiles and prints. The favored seamstresses’ handiwork was obvious.
The inheritance didn’t come in a baul, contrary to what one might expect of how the elders store their possessions. My grandparents were much too sensible for that. How do you fit a mountain of stuff in a bulky piece of furniture, anyway?
The clothes came in sacks, trash bags and moth-eaten appliance boxes. Handbags and purses didn’t have protective covering or packets of silica gel, which help absorb mildew and moisture. Baubles, withered and with a few loose strings and stones, had been kept in tin biscuit and chocolate cans lined only with sheets of onionskin or pillow stuffing.
Humble closet
I fell in love with all the contents, though, and so did female cousins who have a taste for what sellers on Multiply have dubbed “pre-loved.”
No matter the state of the garments—discolored, dusty, seams torn, buttons loose or missing—there was much to be gained by giving them a home in my humble closet.
There’s always a danger of overstuffing one’s cabinets, so there are a few things I keep in mind when picking out vintage pieces—my body type, how unique or classic the garment or item is, and the amount of repair (rework, if necessary) it requires.
Integrating vintage items into one’s wardrobe becomes easier afterward. Slightly loose dresses and skirts can be cinched with braided or patent belts. Long sleeves can be folded. Frilly or excessively girly blouses and frocks can be toughened up with a boyfriend blazer. Everything else can be updated with trendy accessories and stylish heels.
Sure you can buy vintage-inspired apparel everywhere, as each fashion season seems to resurrect a style or two from previous decades, but these won’t have the edge of the real thing.
The stitching, the lining, the cut and material, the unique, if not rare, prints can no longer be mass-reproduced today. Not all of us have fat purses either, to shop at highstreet labels which offer well-made vintage-inspired items.
Sometimes mom or gran’s closet is the best solution to your fashion needs. Not only will your funds remain intact, but whatever you decide to borrow (or keep, as we are wont to do) could also give you a whole new perspective on the original owners.
Photos by Frank Katigbak
