did you buy that new?

flapper fabulous

posted by katie, motherbumper

Fetish alert: I have a thing for purses.  I'm not a girly girl by any stretch of the imagination, in fact I was never comfortable carrying a purse until I added "parental unit" to my resume, but all my life, I've collected bags and purses.  The more dainty and delicate, the better.

This 1920's gem came from my paternal grandmother's home.  She wasn't a fancy lady, in fact she was a shining example of how to be practical.  That woman reused, reduced, and recycled long before it became fashionable; raising a family in the 1930's rural Canada will do that to you.  But obviously before the Dirty Thirties hit, my nana had some fun times and purses to match.

The purse is made of woven metal in gold, turquoise, and orange.  It's big enough to hold a lipstick, compact, and for those naughty girls who felt prohibition didn't apply to them, a small flask.  For the record, my grandmother would not have been one of those girls.  But I would have totally been one of those girls.

You decide: Re-thrift it or Flaunt it?

OK, first I'll give you some background information:

1. 1. Not pregnant.
2. 2. Is maternity dress. But so lounge-aliscious!
3. 3. Boobs are in fact "only" D cups. Is bad bra.

So, after seeing  in the photo this dress which I previously thought was

1. cute
2. crazy comfortable
3. not too unflattering,

I am now contemplating burning it donating it.

Commenters,  the fate of the dress is at your fingertips.

Also, zOMG look at mah cute babeh! Her dress is thrift-purchased too, and she was totally worth the giant belly that used to fill the giant dress.

Daisybones also writes here about her treasures, her daughter, and cantaloupes.

It's not dumb

  Posted by Jenny, the bloggess

This weekend I was at a vintage shop in Galveston and in an old armoire I saw a glimmer of satin.  I'm a whore for satin.  I started to pull it out and out came more and more and more champagne colored satin, with small bits of lace and pearls.  It was a wedding dress.  A 1940's...30 pound...slightly decomposing...wedding dress.   The shopkeeper absentmindedly named her price.  Forty dollars.

My husband and I looked at each other with wide eyes and stage-whispered "FORTY DOLLARS!" to each other except that he meant it like "Holy shit, can you believe she thinks anyone would spend $40 on this moldy wedding dress?" and I said it like "Holy shit, can you believe anyone would let this go for only $40?"  We fought about it for about 15 minutes before I finally realized he was an idiot as far as vintage wedding dresses were concerned and handed the shopgirl my credit card.  Every time I open the closet I see the dress and smile, wondering who wore such a beautiful gown.  Every time Victor opens the closet he looks at this giant wedding dress and grunts passive-aggressively while giving me the stink-eye.

I may have to wear it to my second wedding.

All that glitters is gold

My sister and I were raised like twins (we're 16 months apart) by a very fashionable mother. In fact all the women we grew up around were glitzy and well put together. The fashion mix of the Armenian-Canadian emigrée was part department store chic, part gypsy bling lover. (Think a more toned-down version of Carmela Soprano.) Above all, these women loved a good sale. No, I lie. They gleaned the most joy from bragging about their finds.

My sis and I both love to shop as a direct result of these big-haired, big-chested, big-mouthed mamas. Accessories are my true love. Accessories don't discriminate between butt or bra size. They can totally define your style, make you look rich or poor, professional or slovenly. And when they tell a story, I love them even more. 

8 years ago, my sis and I found ourselves in a second-hand store on the then-trendiest patch of Toronto's Queen Street West district. I had just moved out of my parents' house and lived in a crappy concrete high rise nearby. My sis and I were learning how to spend time with each other without living in each other's armpit.

The purse caught my eye, but seemed too flashy for me at the time. I convinced her that she would not regret purchasing it for a mere $20. She hemmed and hawed but finally bought it, after which I promptly stole it from her.

I heart this clutch. It's lined with black satin inside and even has a zippered pocket for your unmentionables. It's deceivingly able to simultaneously carry your wallet, cell phone, keys, lipstick, and even your cotton girly sticks. Paired with a maxi dress, it can make you look like a 70s supastar. Paired with skinny jeans and stilettos, it says, "I don't got room for your baggage."

posted by Nadine

Vintage reworked

Posted by Jenny.

I adore all things vintage.  The smell, the feel, the idea that whatever I'm wearing is infused with so many memories.  That's why when I found this little dress at an antique convention I had to buy it for my three-year-old.  It's a 1950's  hand-made pillowcase that has been reworked into a child's dress.  The delicate cottony cloth of the pillowcase, the end product of a hundred gentle washings, is soft and tactile and perfect and almost makes me want to learn how to sew so that I could rescue all those gorgeous, lacey pillow-cases from thrift store bins and give them all a second life as a beautiful dress.  You know...almost.

But what I really want is for someone to make me a dress like that although it'd have to be out of a queen sized bed sheet to fit me and really?  Who would go around in a dress made out of a bedsheet?  *cough*

exchanging swap for shop.

Posted by Debbie.

Some very good links regarding frugal, earth-snuggly fashion.

A piece on the matter, HuffPo-style.

Clothing swap.

Shopping swap.

Also, somewhat gratuitously, a photo of me in one of my all-time favorite second-hand-shopped items; a fifties sun dress that has been with me for over ten years, and is going strong.  Jenny took this photo at BlogHer, in one of the many bathroom fiestas held that weekend.  Jenny:  she can write like a cross between Sarah Silverman and Jennifer Saunders, and she can photograph like a seraphim on mood-enhancers.  It's an honor to have been the subject of one of her grand, brilliant experiments.