When you love shopping for vintage clothes as much as I do, the quest for new/old pieces burrows deep into your subconscious and manifests in the realm of dreams. Like the thrift store that I visit time and again in my sleep, pulling incredible relics off of the shelves—each one perfect for me, my sister, or my best friend. Then there’s the dream where a vintage store is closing and they don’t want any of their remaining stock. “Take what you want,” they tell me, “we have more than we need.” And I do, pulling dresses and coats and boots off of the racks, my heart beating with excitement—so much so that it wakes me up, and I find that what my fingers are gripping is not the shoulders of an exquisite vintage dress but the soft edge of my sheet.
Yesterday, I went to a sale that made me feel as though I was living in one of my dreams. I’d been referred to a woman, Linda, who was in the process of liquidating her mother, Lorraine, and grandmother, Francis’s, shared estate and had vintage clothes (some with tags still attached) and shoes, and jewelry and art and books and on and on that still remained from the estate sale. When I contacted Linda and found out that she had 4 closets full of clothing that she wished to sell, I offered to buy what I could and to help her to find a buyer for the rest.