I know you by your legs

Okay, potentially creepy/stalkerish sounding post title, I know, but I promise you there is an entirely innocent explanation behind it! :)

You see, as a general rule, when reading posts in my feed reader (Bloglovin'), I do so by starting with the oldest posts first, which are at the bottom of the page of new entries. Thus as I work my way from the end of the list to the top, I often see a person's feet and/or legs first as a photo accompanying an outfit post appears.

{1940s image source}

I've been reading my feeds like this for years now and have been following many of the blogs that those gams belong to the authors of, for far longer still. As such, I can often tell who a new post is from before I even scroll up to the part that says the blog's name, simply by seeing their feet/legs. I find this rather charming and hope you'll see it as such, too, for it leads me to a far greater point.

In about two weeks from now, this blog will hit 6.5 years of life. In that time I've had the great pleasure of getting to cross paths with literally thousands of fellow bloggers (vintage and otherwise). Some for the briefest of spells, others for multiple years, and some for longer still than I myself have been penning a vintage blog (I started following their sites prior to launching to my own). Quite a few of these folks have become friends - also for varying lengths of time - and a few have become so dear to me they feel like sisters.

It's scarcely a state secret that the vintage blogging world has shrunk somewhat in the last (roughly) three years (a point that I briefly touched on in this post). There are a plethora of reasons (the rise of certain "instant share" sites like Instagram certainly being one them) for this and I won't go into great deal about such here now. Suffice it to say, the vintage blogging pool is not as vast as it once was and that makes me all the more grateful for those who are still keeping at 'er, as I myself am, too.

No matter if such folks are blogging peers, personal acquaintances, friends, or die-hard BFFs, I know them - or in other words, I know you. Whether we've only talked through our blogs - perhaps even one sided-ly (in other words, I've commented on your site, but you haven't on mine) - or have conversed elsewhere, too, by sheer virtue of the fact that you've been sharing part of your life with me - and the world - online for quite some time, I genuinely feel like I know you and this is a beautiful thing unto itself.

I appreciate all of my fellow bloggers, particularly the vintage ones, as we walk a similar path in this new found digital world of ours. I find myself remembering fellow blogger's birthdays, anniversaries, and even due dates. I know who adores 1940s swing dresses, who can't get enough of two tone 30s shoes, and who 1950s circle skirts make go positively weak in the knees.

From BF/GF/husband/wife/partner's names to what people studied in school to favourite colours and foods, a body of knowledge has been acquired and cataloged for many of my fellow bloggers simply by virtue of the fact of how long I've known them and how frequently I've read their wonderful blogs. I have know doubt that many of you reading this post today can say the same about me and I love that fact.

Even the most raw, open and honest person never shares everything about themselves online - and that's a good thing (we all need and deserve some privacy, after all), but we all present a certain version of who we are to the world via our blogs (and social media presences) and what we opt to divulge or not.

Whether we chose to be an open book or present a very curated picture of ourselves and our lives, we still share who we are and those who give of themselves and their time to kindly follow our sites, learn about us through our photos, what we write, and sometimes even what is left unsaid.

I guess what I'm trying to say is how much I care for and appreciate every single one of you, my fellow bloggers and friends. Thank you for opening up your lives with me and allowing me to do the same here day after day, week after week, and ultimately year after year.

We've shared so much and I hope that a great deal more lies in store for all of us who continue to keep our blogs alive and going strong. I look forward to getting to know you even better - shoes and all - and hope that we can keep on supporting one another's sites, efforts (long term frequent blogging is a huge amount of work and very often a sheer labour of love for those doing so, especially in a relatively small niche like the vintage world), and cheer each other on as we continue to blog, share and grow as both individuals and an online community as a whole.

Do we, as vintage fans, have a collective name?

✯ Day 212 of Vintage 365 ✯

 

Titles can be subjective, and names, as permanent or temporary as you please (how many of us today go by the nicknames our classmates bestowed on us in grade school?). Yet there's no denying that monikers are important, integral parts of life.

The name I'm thinking about this morning though, is not the one on your birth certificate, the cutesy word your sweetheart placed upon you, or even your job title, no what I've been pondering for quite a while now, is what do we as lovers of all things vintage call ourselves?

Within the sphere of vintage lovers one finds a large scoop of people. Some of us prefer old school home decor to fashion, and deck our houses not our wardrobes out in the gems of yesteryears. Others are all about the clothing, and rarely (if ever) are seen in dudes that weren't culled from the closets of those who came before us.

Some seek out old school books, art, collectibles (Pyrex or Bakelite, anyone?), ephemera, cars, even houses. Many gravitate towards certain decades (say, the 1940s) or even years (1945), others have their eyes light up at the mere mention of anything vintage and flock to surround themselves with all of it.

We are indeed an order of vintage lovers, within which you will find many a family, further broken down into genii and species. No two vintage fans are exactly alike (though we often share many similarities and interests), yet our differences are frequently much smaller than the substantial number of things we have in common.

Society loves labels and has come up with many for a vast array of people. From hispster to hippies, preppies to posers, teenyboppers to Trekkies, it seems that our culture likes to be able to quickly place members into neat little categories. Yet humans are not specimens in a lab and often times we end up belonging to multiple groups or feeling that none of them at all is suited to describing who we are.

Generally speaking, when people have enquired (as to what, as a fan of the mid-twentieth century, I call myself), I've used the term "vintage lover". Indeed, this is a fitting, if somewhat vague title that quickly lets others know I have a passion for the past. However, I'm sometimes left wondering if it's really the best possible term out there.

But, what then, if not "vintage lover" is one in our circle to call themselves? I don't fall into the rockabilly or psychobilly camp, and while I love jazz and swing music, I'm not an actual musician, so define myself by the music I listen to or play, just doesn't feel right.

A term I coined (though others may too have come up with it) here on CV a couple years ago for those who love classic clothing is "vintageista", an amalgamation of vintage and fashionista. This is a darling name, and one I rather like, but some may see it as only covering the style side of being a vintage fan.

{For those who enjoy wearing - or simply admiring - clothes (like the stunning winter ensemble on the September 1948 cover of Vogue magazine, which comes by way of Fashion Covers Magazines on Flickr) from the 20s, 30s, 40s and 50s, the title "vintageista" can be fitting, but does it work for those who primarily area of interest in the past lies elsewhere?)

 

I like to think of myself as a collector, preserver and connoisseur of history, one who jams their dresser drawers and closet shelves with clothing that very well could have come from my grandmother's wardrobe sixty years ago. I go weak in the knees for mid-century architecture and interior design; I would walk to the ends of the earth to preserve old photographs. I've rarely met a vintage book, magazine or movie I didn't affectionately like.

Days gone by enthral me, make me want to know them intimately, to ensure they're not lost like a fading shadow into the abyss of history. I feel a kinship and oneness with the years of the first half of the last century that is as natural as any relationship I've ever formed with a human being. I live the decades I wasn’t there to see in person vicariously through filling my world with vintage elements, as I know many of you do as well.

And so the question resurfaces, just what exactly do we call ourselves? This group of diverse individuals who are smitten with all things yesteryear; what title - if, indeed, we need one at all - do we place upon ourselves?

Vintage lover, vintageista, vintage aficionado, or something entirely different. What term do feel best describes you, and what sort of name do you think members of our wonderful community should place upon themselves?

For the time being, I think I'll stick with vintage lover, because - let's face it - that is after all precisely what I am, but I remain entirely open to new monikers and would love to know what you've dubbed yourself, my fellow vintage ……?

First day of life

Late one Friday night when a good chunk of the world was either asleep or partying like was 1999 (weekends somehow mean even more during these rough times, so you have to rock it with all your heart), a blog devoted to one woman's never-ending love of all things vintage, rockabilly, retro and pin-up style was born.



{Image via MsBlueSky on Flickr, corners nixed thanks to RoundPic}

Weighing in at...well, websites are weightless, but let's just say 5.7 pounds (in honour of the best year for Chevies), Chronically Vintage came into the world with a smile on its face and an Andrews Sisters song in its heart.

Once the blog's mother has grabbed a few winks, set some pin curls and replied her ruby red lipstick, she will definitely write a more thorough introduction post.