Last week was an unusually good week for new adventures and decluttering. I went to exercise classes frequently enough to be able to casually mention my “workout-related” injury in conversations with my millennial children, explored a trendy north side RVA restaurant with girlfriends and watched my first Super Bowl game in its entirety. Oh, and there were mega-victories in organizing and de-cluttering.
Although the preparation had been in the works for months, if not years, I finished putting my kids’ scrapbooks and photo books together. It’s hard to believe that they’re up to date; I keep expecting to find things I overlooked. Now, only one of the completed photo books is in the hands of the new owner, but knowing that the rest are also ready to go is an amazing feeling. They are all snug and tucked away in easily “findable” spots, waiting for the right moment to jump into the arms of my daughter and son.
All the week's events were fun and satisfying, but the peak experience was my trip to a vintage clothing store in Richmond's Fan district
Halcyon Vintage Clothing. I had stumbled across the shop during a biscuit run
Early Bird Biscuit with my family a few weeks earlier and the store's window display gave me the impetus to prepare my mom’s wild dance club outfits to take to the shop for hopeful resale.
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Long tunic and pants |
These clothes were only a small fraction of the wearable bounty my mom created since the 60's. Being in both a tailoring club and a dance club for twenty-five years prompted lots and lots of sewing and my mom kept almost everything she made. About ten years ago she was delighted for me to carry armfuls of her clothes to a friend who managed costumes for a community theatre group, and now I only had a few of her items remaining. Sentimentality won every time I thought about taking the clothes to a local thrift store because my mom had been quite vocal about wanting her hard work to go to a place where they would be appreciated. How could I be sure someone would treasure them?
After photographing and carefully folding the clothes I dragged along a girlfriend for support and opened the door to the vintage clothing store. It smelled like my mom’s closet. I left the buyer alone while she looked through my mom’s clothes from the 70’s and 80’s, not wanting to hover while she analyzed their worth. The store featured clothes and accessories, all in excellent condition, and I hoped my mom’s treasures would be acceptable to this decision-maker with an experienced eye.
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Oscar de La Renta Vogue designer pattern? |
The buyer let me know she was finished and gave me a price. I asked for a store credit since I knew the pleasure of returning in a few months to shop would be a better reward than cold cash. Even better than any currency was the buyer’s remark, “I like your mom’s taste in fabrics,” and how her face looked while she handled the clothes.
Yep, Mom's treasures went to a place where they would be appreciated. My goal was to treat her meticulously-crafted clothes with respect and care, and I was so thankful to witness her winning touchdown in the end.
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It makes you feel like dancin' |
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