Last weekend I convinced my mum to accompany me to a “Vintage Weigh and Pay” that was taking place in Dundee’s city centre. It was an event that I had known about for a while and had been very excited for as I had heard many good things on the bargains you could get from students around me. My mum on the other hand was not so keen. I cannot say she is your typical female shopper however, once I promised lunch at The Tartan Cafe with the best coleslaw she would ever taste, her opinion changed.
Bright and early Saturday morning we headed into town which is a bit of a drive from the small village we live in. Keen to be the first arrivals and snatch the goodies before anyone else had a chance to see them. I have dragged my mum to vintage events before like “Lou Lous Vintage fair” which has always been beautiful and full of old style music, clothes, furniture and of course some lovely tea and cake. Even though I had not been to a “Vintage Weigh and Pay”, in my head they had to be similar. However, on arrival they could not have been further apart.
If you have read my last post you’ll know I adore the smell of vintage everything. Books, clothes, vinyls; all of it. That old smell that most people would cough at. However, the smell at this event made me feel like those “most people”. Damp and fusty. Not nice, not sweet, not homely like most vintage products appear to me but cold and almost mouldy. A hall with a mere ten stands dotted around and piles of boxes with dead looking clothes hanging out. Nothing that vintage is to me. The products were not well kept or treasured like a vintage item should be. But after paying to get in we began to look. On inspection, were they even vintage? My mum stared at me as she picked up a familiar looking shirt. “This looks like the one your dad owns”. Of course you do not know my dad but he is a retired farmer. A tall, manly man at 70 years old man in farmers tartan shirts. Not very trendy or a fashion idol, sorry dad. But she was right. The event was full of the charity shop items that everyone avoids. So what makes something vintage? When something was bought last week, last year, last decade yet second hand so it must be “vintage”. I do not think it works that way. Vintage to me is a one off, unique item. Something with a story, a life. Not my dad’s old farmer shirts. So we left after, trust me, a very good look around to try fish through the rubbish to find those hidden gems; none were found. Yet do not get me wrong, some people may have left happy with bags full of farmers shirts. Nothing took my fancy but at least we got some amazing coleslaw after all that work.
(not my dad)
Little Peace Of Vintage 