The shirt is Country Suburbans, a ruffly top for the peacock print of the skirt without a label. I found the skirt at Bittersweet in Charlottesville, Virginia (the owner has a wonderful eye for vintage that she mixes into new pieces).
Plumes call for heels, and these are by L.A.M.B.
And even though you’ve told me you like to see my face, this blog is really all about the clothes; I like the the way the magenta comes forth in the fabric in the darkness—
I’ve been saving this one with a Saks Fifth Avenue label on a fabric of grey and electric pink from, I think, the ’60s.
To be more accurate, I would wear a low-slung belt; for now, it’s my usual empire waist. The vintage silver hoop earrings are from the same period.
Tonight, I’m going to an Underground Food Collective dinner in Brooklyn with friends that have traveled here for the occasion—Hot pink fabric and meats are this Friday night.
This dress doesn’t have a tag, but I like the way, from a distance, this is a dress from the past (the ’70s angles, the ’80s dotted swiss overlay) belted into the future.
The bottom of the dress is pleated strangely for any decade, and I may try a petticoat underneath to emphasize the shape in warmer months.
The dress I found years ago, the turtleneck is vintage, Country Suburbans, and the velour catches the light differently in the winter (these are Fall colors, really). The Cloisonné necklace was my grandmother’s; I’m fond of the clasp that looks like a bead.
This dress was hanging at Jelly Roll Vintage rack at the Brooklyn Flea this summer—it’s homemade (with sweet tucks at the elbows). The best part is the bottom of the fabric, where the pattern is fun and late ’60s (doesn’t it look as though Max and the Wild Things could be running through the vines?
The label on this vintage dress (that I found at Williamsburg, Brooklyn’s infamous Beacon’s Closet) is “a Pomette,” which sounds like a girl group that might have been slightly out of touch with the groove of their decade.
My favorite parts of this dress are the big bow at the collar and the outrageous chartreuse in the pattern.
The first time I wore the dress, a man stopped me walking out of a Manhattan subway station to tell me he thought I looked incredible.
The compliment goes to the dress; it was one of my first oh-how-I-love-New-York moments.
I’m wearing leggings underneath (and a rose belt—looking for a purple belt to match the color in the fabric or a white belt for the spring), so it’s a little Flashdance at the ankles. I’m in a house full of dancers this week, though; what a feeling…
On my way to D.C. today for the Great Snowpocalyse, this is a vintage dress with bright purple flowers from New Bohemia in Austin, Texas under a rosy sweater that has interesting ends and over a bright purple sweater that matches the flowers (it makes more sense in the larger version). I like to tell people an aunt knitted it for me, but that’s not true. The rose belt goes with a vintage dress I’ll wear in a few months.
This dress has the colors of Fall, but I wear it whenever leaves skitter and swirl in their own small eddies. I’m thinking about our strange seasons of recent years as I bounce between climates that are changing and in flux. The dress requires similar elevation in footwear, and the pattern doesn’t meet on the center seam, so there is a sense of motion.
The label on this dress is Plu, and I cannot remember where I found it.
I always pull this out for holiday parties (I am having a housewarming tonight for the new apartment), and the gold trim makes me smile every time. The print looks like colored snowflakes.
Here’s a closer look at the fabric at the bottom, which reminds of retro cartoons:
a chronicle of vintage dresses from kthread.
dedicated to my grandmother.
