To be a fans of fashion, to be what my mother called “clothes-y”, is to risk being seen as frivolous and even silly. There are more crucial things in the world than frocks. Or are there? Might it be that clothes are, actually, extremely important indeed? Fashion can be big business, entertainment and a cultural barometer of our times, but it can also be more than the sum of its parts. Clothes are the intimate artefacts that possibly best document and chronicle our life and times. Who hasn't pulled out a forgotten old sweater they lived in one winter only to be whisked back there with awesome force? Who can't keep in mind her wedding dress? Or the dress she buried her mother in?
This fashion theorem was demonstrated to me when Maureen Ryan came into my first Sydney boutique a little over one year ago. I stocked the shop with my own fashion label, Mrs Press, and unique vintage garments, either cautiously renovated or impeccably preserved. Maureen was looking for something fantastic, flattering and 1950s-inspired to wear to her son's wedding on Scotland Island.
“I'll never find anything to fit me,” smiled the petite brunette with the dancing eyes. “Or to suit me. Sorry.” Why was she sorry? She was sorry, as so many women are when they shop for clothes, because she was anticipating defeat at the first hurdle, but had turned up anyway. The word “sorry” was said with a familiar shrug and shy smile – familiar because, as a shopkeeper, I see it every day.
A rare woman who can swan into a boutique and swoop confidently upon the apparel of her dreams, safe in the knowledge that it will suit her, her budget and the occasion for which it is destined. A rare woman, or a fashion editor.
In spite of what men consider, most women don't discover serious shopping fun.
Browsing is fun. Hitting the shops with your friends to gossip and ogle and giggle is fun. But shopping on a mission is something else altogether.
Shopping on a mission is the stressful hunt for the dress that will make you look like the very best version of yourself. When you don't discover it, it's no fun at all.abercrombieshopping.com
“I have just the dress,” I said, knowing that I really, truly did. I had lately purchased some exquisite pieces from a vintage fashion collector who had assembled her treasures over a 30-year period before ultimately admitting defeat – her house was overflowing.
Amongst the pieces I'd chosen was a scoop-necked, full-skirted number cut from fine cream silk and covered all over with turquoise polka dots. Those dots could have made a lesser dress ditsy, but this one had such good breeding that the decoration only rendered it oh-so-fashionably festive. I revealed it to Maureen and her eyes lit up. When she tried it on, it suited as if it had been made for her. “I've never bought a vintage dress,” she said. “But I like the idea. I wonder who owned it and where they wore it?” “I don't know,” I stated. “But I feel sure that they danced in it.”
“I bet they did! Danced the night away,” she said.
“So there's no point in showing you this other one,” I explained, “but I will just in case you prefer it.” The second dress was silk, too, and also from the 1950s.
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