I continue to get my butt kicked by every week I think will be nicer to me than the last, and at this point I am ready to call it: it’s not me, it’s them. I’m not the problem here. I’m doing my best, and just because it’s not good enough in the context of *waves hands in every direction* all of this, doesn’t mean it’s inherently subpar. I’m actually getting better at life; it’s life that’s getting worse.
Oddly, that’s comforting. Well, as comforting as things get these days.
Sorry to be a downer. I’m generally all about finding joy in small moments, and beauty in overlooked things, but I think it’s also important to acknowledge that life isn’t all sunshine and lollipops. That is what makes that small joy such a radical act, and it is important to see it as such. And value it accordingly.
Last week ended on a high note: I received an amazing response to my IG announcement that I decided to pursue self-publishing. [More on that next week.] Then the reality set in. It’s an enormous task; I don’t know much about the process, haven’t got the budget to hire professionals, and will have to figure it out as I go. It’s waaaay out of my comfort zone (that’s part of the reason why I chose trad publishing in the first place) and as such, feels really overwhelming to my AuDHD brain. And because that doesn’t put enough on my plate, I also decided to start writing my next book. Procrastination at its finest, you say? Shhhhh.
I’ve been (inwardly) grumbling a lot lately about the state of thrift, and how meh / mid it’s been feeling. I had a good wake-up call this past weekend though. My daughter needs sweatpants for the fall/winter season, and she’s particular about what she wants. We hadn’t had a lot of luck at the thrifts so, in extremis, I decided to send her off (with her dad, because I was busy) to check out a few retail stores. That was a mistake. They came home with 2 pairs of sweatpants and a plain t-shirt from Garage that cost … are you ready for this? $180. From Garage!! It was definitely a case of retail goggles; they struck out at a bunch of stores, it was late in the day, and these sweatpants were the closest thing they’d found to meet my daughter’s checklist. When she got home and tried them on again, she changed her mind. I think by that point, the cost had also sunk in and she realized that they were not a good value proposition. [My daughter has grown up thrifting with me, so her shopping mentality is very much secondhand-coded, if you will.]
Needless to say, we returned everything. But, wow, did this give me (and my daughter) a refreshed appreciation for our thrift stores. As a nice coda to this story, the day after, I found a pair of sweatpants at Value Village that checked all the right boxes and cost $11. And get this: they’re from Garage.
Recently, I got a cute LAUREN Ralph Lauren (LRL) dress off Poshmark, and the first thing I did was to have a close look at it, inside and out, to make sure there were no (previously undisclosed) issues with it. Yes, I did get burned on my last Poshmark purchase but, also, this is just generally good practice. Anyway, in the process, I found myself doing an impromptu assessment of its likely vintage, ultimately concluding that it was probably from circa 2005-2010.
Playing the “guess the vintage” game is a fun – at least if you’re me – so I decided to share my process here in case anyone else wants to play along at home. Keep in mind that I’m neither a fashion history/industry expert nor a sewist, so this is based purely on my experiences as a long-time thrifter and lover of clothes. To better illustrate this particular example, I thought it would be helpful to compare my newly purchased dress with another LRL dress I thrifted last year, which I’ve estimated to be circa 2000-2005.
Style
One of the things I love about the Ralph Lauren brand universe is the constant recycling. Like every other fashion company, they put out new collections all the time which, from season to season and year to year, are pretty diverse. But, if you take a longer view, you can quickly see certain themes and styles that get periodically re-issued in slightly new or different iterations. I think that’s why it’s so easy to spot a “Ralph Lauren piece”. Unlike a lot of designer-led brands these days, RL has a very cohesive and consistent brand identity – much of which comes from the fact they do a lot of the same things, over and over.
I love this for a few reasons. It makes it very easy to mix and match pieces from different decades – great for someone who buys a lot of secondhand. It also makes it easier to find pieces that suit a specific niche you’re looking to fill. Can’t find the current version of that piece? Maybe you can find the 2010s version, or the 2000s version, or the 90s version.
All this to say: the style of a particular RL piece is not, by itself, a super helpful indicator of its vintage.
Haha … next!
Label
RL label tags are the closest thing to a goldmine when it comes to trying to figure out vintage. There is a LOT of information online that breaks down the various sub-brand labels and their different iterations over the years. I’ve written a bit about this before, so I am not going to re-hash all that now. Instead, I’m going to take you through the way I “read” the label on my new Poshmark dress.
First two things to note are (i) it’s a green label (not black, which is current LRL), and (ii) the lettering is woven, not printed on the label. Based on these two things, I would immediately put this dress as pre-2015. This is not a scientific decision, by the way. I don’t know the exact dates when LRL labels changed from one version to another, so this is just my best guesswork based on stuff I’ve seen over the years.
Second thing, and this is slightly less obvious unless you’re familiar with different LRL vintages, the label is narrow … that is, narrower than other versions of the green label. Here is a side-by-side comparison with the label of my other LRL dress:
Older LRL labels tend to be wider/bigger. Again, I don’t have exact dates at my fingertips, but I would personally put the narrower labels down as being post-2005.
The other thing that supports that date range is the country of manufacture. This is another key sign/clue to be found on labels. I’ve also written about this before, but in a nutshell: offshoring of clothing production happened in a certain geographical pattern, starting in the 1950s with Japan (I think) and thereafter moving to other parts of the globe in a sequence that, presumably, followed favourable tax/labour/regulation regimes. China became a common manufacturing location starting in the mid- to late 90s, I think. In many cases, prior to 2000, the “made in” would reference Hong Kong.
In this case, both labels say “made in China” which, to me, points to both of them being produced after 2000.
Materials
While it’s difficult, if not impossible, to date a garment solely based on the fabric used, this can be a helpful clue (in conjunction with other signs) in narrowing down the vintage. The 2 dresses here are a good illustration. Here is a closer look at their materials information:
One is silk, the other is polyester. Care to guess which one has the older-looking tag? Yeah, the silk one. Both of them are lined with polyester but, importantly, the silk one is fully lined whereas the other one is only partially lined (top half only).
We all know that fabric is one of the first categories where companies save on costs. This is why I wanted to use these 2 dresses as an example; both are from the same brand and of similar “dressiness” so it’s an apples-to-apples comparison. After about 2005-2008, use of natural fabrics like silk became increasingly rare in mall/department brands.
Companies also began to scrimp on things like linings – in some cases, to the detriment of the garments. This is actually my biggest pet peeve with the polka dot dress (which, overall, I really like). I’m not universally opposed to polyester, but I hate polyester that easily gets staticky and then clings to the body … and the version they used in this particular dress does. A full lining on the skirt part would have solved that problem, in lieu of using a different fabric. I know because I tried the dress on while wearing a (polyester) skirt slip underneath, and it stopped clinging.
Again, based on the fabric and lining situation, I would put the polka dot dress as being definitely post-2005. Conversely, I would put the other dress as being pre-2005.
Construction
Like fabric, construction is a helpful clue to assess in conjunction with other relevant information. As with fabric, construction is one of the categories where companies try to cut down on costs. The way hems and seams are finished can help narrow down the vintage – not to a specific year, of course, but a general era.
Here’s a comparison of the seams on both dresses:
Again, I’m not a sewist so I don’t know all the technical jargon, but the technique used looks similar to me. However, the actual stitching and finishing on the dress on the left looks a bit neater and, well, nicer. Not a major difference, but I think it does support my assessment that the dress on the left is of slightly older vintage than the polka dot dress on the right.
The last thing I want to point out is a fairly tiny detail, but it’s actually what made me narrow down the vintage of the polka dot dress to 2005-2010. I’ve already talked about why I chose 2005 on the early end. Here’s why I picked 2010 on the late end.
That’s right: a bra strap keeper. These little things used to be not-uncommon on thin-strapped dresses in the past, but they seem to have gone the way of the dodo in the last 10-15 years (outside of designer brands, maybe). I think it’s a very nice touch, and super practical to boot. Sure, they’re easy enough to add at home, but why aren’t brands doing it themselves anymore? Well, we know why: cost, duh.
And that’s it!
Hope this was fun and/or somewhat instructive. Kthanxbye 🙂
Between the (not) Rapture and the solar eclipse and the planets doing some weird once-in-a-century tango, this week was a doozy … if you believe in that kind of stuff, which I don’t, or if you’re looking for non-depressing ‘reasons’ to explain why life seems like a dumpster fire, which I am. Somehow, the idea of the universe having laughs at my expense feels less oppressive than, well, the other current alternatives. Ahem.
I managed to be mildly productive in between anxiety spirals, finishing another round of edits on The Mysterious Affair at Gaunt Hall. There was far less to chip away this time, but I did add about 2,000 words to the word count. It’s now at 84K, which is still well within genre conventions, yay. I really, really, really need to psych myself up for starting book #5, but haven’t managed it yet. I think it’s because I’ve slipped back into bad habits (cough, doom-scrolling, cough) that are undermining both my concentration and time management. As someone with AuDHD, I’ve found that writing successfully (i.e. finishing a complete book) requires a high degree of discipline and structure to maintain focus and momentum. I know I can do it because I’ve done it before – four times – but it’s still a bit daunting at the start.
It’s officially fall now, and the weather is starting to change. Weirdly, most of the trees haven’t started turning colour and those that have seem to be doing it in a slightly different than usual. It’s really throwing me off. Sometimes I’m convinced I’m imagining it, which has me wondering if I’m gaslighting myself or the universe is. Or, you know … maybe it’s my imagination, maybe it’s climate change. Tra-la-la!
Sorry, guys, I really am trying not to be a bummer.
Last weekend, we went to another wedding – our second of the year, which is a record for us in this season of life. I almost wore the same outfit as for the last wedding (completely different crowd), but then at the last minute changed my mind and went with a vintage 90s dress I thrifted a few weeks ago. Very Rachel from Friends except red, which isn’t a very Rachel colour … nor a colour I wear, head to toe, very often. It ended up being a good choice, although the shoes I wore with it nearly destroyed me. I can’t believe I used to wear heels every day. It took my feet, like, 3 days to recover (and I spent a good chunk of the evening just sitting). Pics to come … soonish.
