Yesterday Tony and I headed out on the open road - and ocean - to embark on what promises to be a truly fabulous two week trip to Vancouver Island, BC. While we're away rubbing shoulders with Orca Whales (or so I like to imagine ;)) , traipsing through majestic Pacific rain forests, visiting oodles of museums and historical buildings, and also aiming for some massively needed R&R, I've lined up an awesome series of guest posts from fellow vintage loving bloggers that will appear over the course of the next two weeks.
First up, I'm delighted to bring you a personal fashion related post from my close friend and fellow bookworm, Seanna from the wonderful blog Retro Writer. Seanna is a writer, vintage/rockabilly adoring gal, and all around truly lovely person, who I'm honoured to have writing for Chronically Vintage. Thank you so much for doing so, sweet dear!
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I am so excited and thankful that Jessica invited me to guest post on her wonderful blog. At first I wasn't sure which vintage topic to address. Then I recalled a certain topic my sister had wished for me to write and so here it is: my journey into vintage.
I have often felt over the years that I was born in the wrong decade. If I had to go back in time, and I'd have to choose just one era, it would be the 1940s. My addiction/obsession or as I prefer to call it my undying love for vintage fashion began when I was just a girl.
As most girls in their teenage years, I did my best to find my style. I dabbled in the punk/goth with black hair, combat boots, and camo pants. I loaded my hair with gel and wore chunky leather bracelets with spikes. I even had pink streaks for a short time. I was determined to stand out. I'm sure this was my parents’ least favorite phase of mine.
Then I drifted to the polar opposite end of the specter of the bohemian gypsy style clothing. Think 1920s drapey dresses with tons of embroidery and a whimsical feeling to it. I even grew my hair long midway down my back.
Finally I gave up in my late teens and just wore anything that fit. I rarely wore anything vintage because I had put on quite a bit of weight and felt uncomfortable in my own skin. I wore modern styles, anything to hide my weight gain. It seemed that no matter how hard I tried to find my style, the more I realized I was trying too hard to be something I’m not. And the harder I tried, the more my desire for pretty vintage clothes grew. Though at the time I didn't think I was at all worthy to wear such pretty clothes and self-punished myself. It was a low point in my life.
There were plenty of setbacks and one that nearly made me give up not only my love of vintage, but my love of writing. When I lost my dad two years ago I didn't see how any of that mattered anymore. All I wanted was my dad back.
Then it suddenly dawned on me, just a few weeks prior to losing dad, he took me to an antique mall where I bought a few pieces and he was so proud of me that after struggling with my weight and low self-esteem, that I felt confident enough to wear such items. And it was because of my parents and my sister, and my faith that I was able to achieve such self-acceptance and finally become the unique person I was meant to be.
My journey into vintage isn't epic and it isn't life changing to anyone but me. But if it weren't for my love of vintage I'd still be searching for this part of me that didn't fit into this world I live in. It’s simple, I just love vintage and wearing it makes me happy. And I think it’s important that we wear clothing that makes us happy. Every single person is one of a kind. Why try so hard to fit in, when we're born to stand out?