In every woman’s wardrobe lies a musty mistake. A garment so shiny it promised to resuscitate disco, but ended up smothering it to death. In our time we’ve made a million retro whoopsies that were taken back to the very charity shop we first bought them only to become someone else’s retro whoopsies.
Here are some of the most memorable...
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The identity crisis
Unless you’re one of those heinous individuals who insists on dressing like it’s the jolly Blitz (you know, the jolly bit, not the bit where everyone got killed) all the time then your sartorial anchors to ‘the past’ may be a little confused. Vintage shops can be so overwhelming that after one afternoon in Beyond Retro you’re out buying vinegar cakes to welcome our brave boys home.
What’s even more confusing is these places there are so many decades happening all at once you’re essentially shopping in a soup made of past. This makes for some mad accidental-fancy-dress mashups where Sandra Dee and Andy Pandy are having a party on your body. You don’t really know what's going on, but your trying out some new looks in there, which means there’s been at least one night of your life when you’ve gone out looking like you’ve just run through the wardrobe of an Eastern European ice dancer, or lost a bet with Barry Chuckle.
Smells gone by
Ask any woman over the age of 50 if her clothes are comfier than they used to be and she will definitely say ‘yes’. In fact, your Mum has probably told you a hilarious story about the time she had to sit in the bath in her jeans just to make them fit. Oh Mum! Topshop might be naming jeans after Mums (sorry, Moms) these days, but they definitely aren’t making them out of the same stuff, because science has invented better stuff.
Polyester is not a sociable material. Go clubbing in a ’60s dress and you are in serious danger. You’re highly flammable in the smoking area and suffering from prickly heat on the dancefloor, then there’s the nylon rash to deal with afterwards. Back when fabrics were more absorbent, the garment’s previous owner was throwing shapes at the D-I-S-C-O. She too, was sweating buckets. I can tell you for free, there is literally nothing in the world more grim that the ghosts of armpits past wafting up through your brand new top.
The eBay blunders
Don’t let it ever be said that vintage shopping on eBay is a good idea. Anyone who says they are good at it is a liar. When you covetously compliment someone on their beautiful Jaeger cashmere they’ll say, ‘Thanks, eBay!’ in such a bright and breezy way you’ll almost believe it’s just as easy as that, that is was just lying on top of the pile waiting for them to snap up. What they don’t say is that they too are harbouring a secret graveyard of misguided purchases they’ll never tell you about. Either that or eBay send her a cheque at the end of the month.
Not only are the Ebay prefixes ‘vintage’ ‘retro’ completely meaningless (see also: ‘Alexa’, ‘Boho’) they can just as easily be replaced with ‘will look weird on’. Save yourself the heartbreak.
Jazziness
It’s unclear what happens when warm, musty air in vintage/charity shops gets circulating around your system, but it certainly has a curious effect on your sense of snazz. If haters ask where you plan to wear the sequinned bumbag you’re purchasing, your stock response is always that will be ‘very handy for festivals, thank you’.
There are not enough festivals in in the world where you could sport all the weird shit you’ve bought to wear at them. Feathers, jumpsuits, tassles, sequins, waistcoats (so many waistcoats) and stack of clutchbags are relegated to a mothy box under the bed, that if anyone asks, is fancy dress. People should really have more ‘shit-I-dont-know-why-I-bought’ fancy dress parties.
The shoulder pad conundrum
When women first started getting jobs where they didn’t have to cower quietly in a corner and get their bottoms smacked on the daily, they started pitching up in boardrooms, which is exactly when jackets really came into their own. Really, really nice jackets with huge amazing buttons that were, presumably, to distract you from the perm. Unfortunately, for sheer visibility’s sake, these jackets came with a set of shoulder furniture that would give Admiral Lord Nelson a run for his money. And it wasn’t just jackets. In fact, pretty much any garment you’ve ever really fallen in love with in a charity shop has those spongy babies sewn into it.
So, out you stride into the world looking like an extra from* Dallas*, every step more doubtful than the last. Are you pulling this off? Are they buying it? Yes, it’s beautiful buttery leather, but it makes you look like a brick shithouse. Eventually, in one of your craftier moments, you decide to take matters into your own hands and chop them out. All of a sudden you’ve gone from Joan Collins’ shoulders to the Incredible Hulk’s in one fell snip... aaaand it’s back to the charity shop.
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This article originally appeared on The Debrief.