Hello Dollyrockers!

Here in Maine I come across lots of great wool and work vintage, and most money was "old money" so good cutting edge pre-90's pieces are hard to find.

So I considered myself extremely lucky to find a 60's Rudi Gernrich dress, even if it was a fairly conservative shift dress. But yesterday I found a rarity - a dress from the British Boutique Movement (Ossie Clark, Jean Muir, Celia Birtwell) - a 1970's wench look dress from Dollyrockers.

Here she is!

Serendipity

I never imagined that I'd able to use my beloved framed photo of Mr. Chicago 1944 (and runners up) as a tie in to one of my auctions. But sometimes selling vintage creates the lovelist coincidences:

Meet Mr. Chicago 1944 (and runners up):

And meet, a racy pair of 1940's satin swim trunks. Mr. Chicago 1944 (or one of his runners up) would have totally rocked these:

Nostalgia

I was a teenager/young adult during the 80's and initially had a hard time accepting that 80's clothing (and music) as "vintage."

But I see now the beauty in the adaption of New Wave and the inverted triangle silhouette. Plus, I am compensated by the opportunity to indulge in some nostalgia. Some memories, like those of my prom and craptastic prom dress, are bad. Some memories are good, like those resurrected by selling this early 1980's Grateful Dead t-shirt.



I have (or had) a shirt almost identical, purchased at a Dead show in the mid-80's.

In spring of 1984, on a whim, some friends and I decided to go see the Grateful Dead at the Cumberland County Civic Center in Portland, Maine. We knew nothing about the band - they hadn't had their big "I Will Get By" hit, and we had never heard the term "Deadhead." We just thought it would be an interesting rock show and a fun place to get stoned and meet guys. The tickets were $14.50 and we were able to buy them a few days before the show.

And so the three of us, all starters on the state championship field hockey team - the goalie, myself (a fullback) and the other fullback went to see the Dead. And us three girls, in from the boondocks of Maine, in our pegged pants and fluffy hair, were smitten. The Deadheads were in full, patchouli-reeking, shrooming force. And all that crazy dancing and hugging!

Next fall we saw them in Augusta Civic Center - an even smaller venue. This time we knew what to expect, and indulged accordingly. We met two boys we called "Chewey" (as in Chewbacca) and "Spacey" (self-explanatory) and I think there was some making out. Luckily we did not have a game the next day, as we, the last two lines of defense against goals, were feeling rather sluggish.

I went on to college and checked out Dead shows when I could, though by then they were playing stadiums and tickets were expensive and rare. The goalie dropped out of college and gave up her full field hockey scholarship to follow the band. The other fullback managed to stay in school, but was still a Deadhead.

Sadly, I think that during my punk rock days I threw away my t-shirt in a fit of Dead-hating angst. I wish I still had it!

Prom!

This weekend I watched my neighbor going to her senior prom. She wore a strapless wine satin gown with beading on the bust, and a matching shawl. It looked beautiful with her pale skin and black (dyed) hair. Her boyfriend wore a top hat and long tuxedo jacket, and he seemed pretty pimped out for a Maine prom. But...well...my prom date ended up committing some rather serious crimes, so I guess I'm not one to judge.

I envied my pretty neighbor in her classic gown. She won't be embarrassed in 20 years, like some of us. I wore a Gunne Sax. A huge puffy white Gunne Sax that looked as if it was made of toilet paper.

And yes, I have developed an appreciation for vintage Gunnes, and I love to sell them all the lovely, hip gals out there. But mine was a monstrosity. Even today it would be unhip, and not even in a good, ironic way.

Pictures exist, but I will not post them here, as this blog is more about my business than about my fashion mistakes (which would be a blog in itself).

In honor of 80's and bad prom dresses, I give you the ultimate 1980's bad prom dress. Even when I first saw this movie, and was completely under the spell of John Hughes, I thought this was an abomination. And the salt on the wound? She cut up a vintage dress to create this horror show.

It's not always sexy

Sometimes I buy things that aren't fun to photograph. Like a cubic yard of organic compost.

My pretty new truck is now coated with dirt, my back muscles are crabby, and I have a pretty new blister. But my plants and bushes are happy. Very, very happy.

This one is MINE!

When I buy vintage for resale I shut off the rather large "collector" portion of my brain. Otherwise my house and closets would be like those novelty cans of candy that filled with coiled up springs.

But I made an exception when I bought a box of aprons and scarves - from a woman who supposedly had posed for some risque photos. :

Now I might actually have to start cooking!