vintage clothing | Helen Glynn Jones

Lace Edwardian dress – bodice. This dress was a gift from a lovely lady I met at a vintage fashion show in Canada – it had belonged to one of her relatives, and would have most likely been made by hand.

This weeks Hugh’s Photography Challenge is ‘Vintage’ and, as I said to Hugh in the comments, he is speaking my language. I’ve collected vintage clothing and accessories since I was a teenager and, several years ago, a friend and I even had our own permanent vintage stall at an antique market. I’ve moved quite a lot over the past two decades, however, so my collection has grown and shrunk and grown again, pieces coming and going as my closet space allows.

I bought these gloves in Sydney, Australia, at a jumble sale. They are suede, elbow length, and stamped ‘Made In France’ on the inside. Beautifully stitched along the seams and edges, the pearl buttons are a perfect finishing touch.

One of the things I’ve always loved about vintage clothing is the detail, which you really don’t see in modern mass-produced clothing. Tiny hand stitches, delicate beadwork, fine embroidery, gathered pleats – I even had an embroidered cotton dress once that had been repaired, yet the repair work was so finely done it was part of the charm of the dress. So, for Hugh’s challenge, I’ve decided to focus on the details.

This bag is, apparently, French, and is beaded in the Art Nouveau style on both sides, with tiny bugle beads.

This French evening bag is beaded in the Art Nouveau style on both sides, using tiny bugle beads. It is probably about a hundred years old, and I found it at a vintage clothing market in Australia.

If you’d like to participate in Hugh’s Challenge, here’s what to do:

1. Take or choose a photo that you’ve taken which shows something that is Vintage.
2. Create a new post on your blog entitled “Hugh’s Weekly Photo Challenge: Week 27 – ‘Vintage’
3. Add the photo(s) you have taken to the post and tell us a little about what you are showing.
4. Create a pingback to Hugh’s post or leave a link to your post in his comments section, so other participants can view the post.

Lace Edwardian Dress. This was a gift from a lovely lady I met at a vintage fashion show.

Several years ago, when I lived in Australia, a friend and I were proud proprietors of a vintage clothing stall. It was a permanent stall in an antiques market, one of those places where they manage the sales for you in return for a small commission, so we didn’t have to be there every day.

We called our stall Snowdrop and RoseRed, after the sisters in the Brothers Grimm tale. I was Snowdrop, on account of my pale colouring, while my lovely brunette friend was RoseRed. We designed a logo, a Tudor rose with a snowdrop curving around it, invested in a stamp, some manila mail tags and a few clothes rails, and the business was born.

Detail from an embroidered silk caftan I found in a Sydney charity shop.

And it was wonderful fun. We went into our stall at least once a week, tidying the racks, replacing stock and checking our drawer in the small office to see what sales we’d made. We haunted flea markets and charity shops and EBay, visited auction sites and ransacked our own vintage collections to ensure we had new stock, finding gems all over the world to add to the collection, including a fab collection of 1940’s hats we bought from Wales, and a vendor in Canada who seemed to be selling off the contents of a suitcase of 1930’s clothing. Local charity shops yielded beaded cardigans and gold lame shoes, marquisate jewellery and delicate pearls.

But the best part of it was having all these gorgeous clothes on hand, whenever we wanted them. I’ve been wearing and collecting vintage clothing since I was a teenager – my collection has expanded and shrunk several times, all the moving I do necessitating the occasional downsize. Some pieces I bitterly regret letting go of, such as a black velvet 1930’s evening coat with eau-de-nil silk lining, whereas others were ready to move on to different owners, ready to be worn again. So to have a stall where it was my job to source and buy and wear vintage clothing was a bit of a dream come true.

Me in a vintage op-art dress on a murder mystery weekend

For me, the beauty of vintage clothing lies in the construction. The beading, the linings, the delicate handstitched seams. For so much of it is handmade, mass-produced clothing not so readily available back then as now. I also love the glamour – the idea that women wore such gowns when going out for tea or over to a friend’s house or out to the theatre, a sense of occasion that seems to be missing these days. (Do not get me started on the time we went to an evening theatre performance and there were people there in jeans and football scarves).

Detail of a vintage waistcoat I bought at a vintage clothing sale, many years ago.

Detail of a waistcoat I bought at a vintage clothing sale, many years ago.

Of course women have come a long way (though we still have a way to go), and I wouldn’t swap our freedoms for those hazy glamorous days. But there is a mystery and enticement to these old garments, wondering where they were worn and by whom. To the careful, almost invisible, repairs, the tiny stitched pleats and structured linings. They speak of a different world, a different time.

Part of a silk and net Victorian mourning cape. This apparently came from my family, and I remember using it for dress-ups when I was small!

Our stall eventually closed, our circumstances changing so neither of us had the time to dedicate to the business any more. But we each kept our favourite pieces, and our love of vintage, Snowdrop and RoseRed a friendship that endures.