If you’ve been following the blog over the last few years, you will have noticed that much of my thrifting focus has shifted to vintage. Why is that and why now?

There are a few reasons for my loving vintage now. I sometimes think regretfully about all the cool vintage stuff I probably missed over the past decade because I wasn’t looking for it. But the reality is that my personal style had not yet evolved to a point where vintage made sense. I first needed to develop a very strong sartorial identity, and only then figure out how vintage could play a role in that. I have no interest in looking like I’m wearing a costume; for me, the key is to incorporate vintage in a way that feels, if not necessarily trendy/contemporary, at least unique and personalized.

It also just so happens that quite a lot of pieces from the 80s and 90s — though by no means all, hello neon legwarmers! — blend easily into my current style avatars. Some of my favourite designers, like Ralph Lauren, have maintained a consistent aesthetic over the years which makes older pieces highly desirable. 90s stuff is also currently very trendy, and I prefer thrifting the originals over buying the current version in stores, generally at a considerable premium.

And, of course, there is the question of quality. In most cases, the quality of even mall and department store brand clothing from before, say, the mid-2000s is better than mid-tier designer clothing now. While acrylics and polyester were not uncommon, natural fabrics like cotton, linen, and wool were used a lot more than they are now. Construction and finishes are also often (though not always) better in vintage clothing than contemporary stuff.

Ok, so I’ve told you all the reasons why I love thrifting for vintage. If you want to give it a try for yourself, here are some of my tips for thrifting clothing from the 80s and 90s.

What To Look For

When it comes to stuff from the 80s and 90s, some of my favourite things to thrift are, in no particular order:

• Skirts – wool, linen and silk skirts; common silhouettes include: pleated A-line midi or maxi skirts; full (twirly) skirts; tube (long) skirts; leather pencil midi skirts; lots of plaids and florals.
• Sweaters – wool and cotton sweaters in fun patterns as well as neutrals; chunky fisherman-style sweaters as a special favourite.
• Blazers – oversized blazers and long-line blazers (but beware of shoulder pads if, like me, you have broad shoulders already, as these tend to create a linebacker silhouette) in fun plaids and checks; cashmere and camel hair blazers; and leather blazers (late 90s and early 2000s silhouettes are the best).
• Vests – wool or silk waistcoats and vests in a variety of colours and patterns (including embellishments like beading and embroidery); wool sweater vests; denim and leather vests.

On the flip side, I don’t tend to buy vintage pants. Tapered silhouettes for dress pants were popular in the 80s and 90s, and that’s not a style I personally gravitate towards these days. I like high-waisted jeans, but I find that a lot of vintage styles are not “curvy” cuts, which I need because of my waist-to-hip ratio. (I won’t invest in tailoring for denim because I can easily find current jeans that fit me off the rack.) Vintage denim also tends to be less stretchy. I know some people love vintage Levis, but I have not found a pair that worked on my body. That being said, these could be things that work for you.

I also don’t tend to buy a lot of vintage dresses, but 80s/90s styles that I commonly see are prairie/cottagecore-style dresses in cotton and ramie; tube, tank, and slip-style dresses in velvet and rayon (silk is more rare); and chambray and denim button-up or pinafore-style dresses. Most of them are midi and maxi lengths which, if you’re like me, is a big bonus — plus, it fits current trends.

Sizing

I think most people know this, but it bears repeating: vintage sizing is smaller than contemporary equivalents. For example, my vintage size in skirts and other bottoms is one or two sizes bigger than in modern clothing (depending on how snug I want the fit to be). For jackets and tops, it’s usually a one size difference, but keep in mind that the cut of blazers, in particular, tended to be oversized. Again, we are talking about clothing from the 80s and 90s; earlier vintage will generally fit even smaller.

What I have noticed is that vintage sizing tends to be more consistent than modern sizing. I can reliably buy the same size across different brands and be fairly certain that it will fit. That isn’t often true for contemporary clothing, where sizing can be all over the place. However, if you’re buying vintage online, it is still a good idea to check measurements to avoid surprises.

Brands

When it comes to 80s and 90s vintage, I love looking for what some people might consider “old lady” brands: Talbots, Liz Clairborne (including LizWear and LizSport), Eddie Bauer, Laura Ashley, and Tabi. These brands can be overlooked because of associations with “dowdy” or boring clothes, but the quality is fantastic (materials and construction) and individual pieces can look surprisingly contemporary. Shoulder pads are my personal bugbear, but in many cases, are easily removable. Some of my favourite vintage pieces come from this brands; if you read my weekly outfit recaps, you will have noticed most of these names pop up regularly.

I also love finding 90s clothing from mall brands like Gap (my absolute fave), Mexx, Esprit, Le Chateau, J. Crew, and Club Monaco. Early 2000s Banana Republic is also great. The quality of these pieces is far superior to their current equivalent. These days, brands like Gap and BR are putting out clothing that is, essentially, a replica of these older styles … at much higher price points than what the originals can be bought at the thrifts.

Vintage designer is much harder to find, although I have regularly come across brands like Ralph Lauren, MaxMara, Escada (fantastic blazers), Ungaro, Louis Ferraud, and Donna Karan. I’ve used my vintage fashion magazines as a resource to learn more (or refresh my memory) about designers who used to be popular in the 80s and 90s but have since receded from the fashion front lines — think Romeo Gigli, Rifat Ozbek, Todd Oldham, Nina Ricci, etc. I don’t see a lot of those in the thrifts but they are on my BOLO list.

Dating vintage

How can you tell if something is vintage? Unless you’re an expert on fashion history, it might be challenging to date a piece based purely on design and construction. But I find that clothing labels can provide clues even for the layperson. Union labels are a reliable indicator of vintage, but they tend to be rare in clothing made in the 80s (and even more so in the 90s). There are online directories for clothing labels where you can look up a specific brand and see how its labels changed over time. This will give you the most accurate idea of dates, assuming you can find information on the specific brand/label. If you don’t have the time for extensive research, the place of manufacture can provide a more general time frame. The offshoring of clothing manufacture followed certain geographical patterns from the 1960s onwards. Clothing made overseas in the 80s and early 90s tended to come from Korea, Taiwan, Eastern Europe and Hong Kong, as well as Singapore, Malaysia, Thailand, the Philippines, and India in the latter 90s.

I hope this gives you a starting base to give thrifting vintage a try. Share your tips and fave brands in the comments!

Details: Reitmans sweater (thrifted), DKNY skirt (Poshmark)

Thoughts: This is the kind of outfit I could wear forever. The sweater is a nothingburger brand (as they say) but the design makes it a perfect statement piece for me. It’s relatively minimalist, but with a wow factor. The skirt … well, we’ve already talked about how much I love it. I’m wearing it here at its full length, and it’s still sexy without being too in-your-face about it.

Details: Revello top (retail), cashmere cardigan, Zara blazer, Danier skirt (all thrifted), Dooney bag (Poshmark), Mia shoes (retail)

Thoughts: How’s this for a fall outfit? This (real) suede skirt is a showstopper and I’m chuffed to have found it at the thrift store for $25 rather than have to pay retail prices. The colour is *chef’s kiss*. I decided to stick with an autumnal palette of browns and yellows, inspired by this mystery cashmere cardigan I thrifted. It’s a mystery because the brand label is missing, but it’s made in Perugia so it must be a little bit fancy, right? Hah! My platform loafers are still going strong in their second year, and I am forever congratulating myself on having had the foresight to pick a pair with brown soles because it makes them so easy to wear with both brown and black. Super versatile!

Details: Gap tank, UO pants, Zara duster, Josef belt (all thrifted), selfmade necklace

Thoughts: This was inspired by a Ralph Lauren SS 2024 runway look. I love Papa Ralph’s use of accessories; it’s always so thoughtful and intentional. Here, if you ignore the fringey duster, you have a pretty simple outfit, made special by accessories. There were been a few RL collections with a similar aesthetic — all black (or black and white) clothes with statement accessories. As someone who love bold jewelry and belts, I find it endlessly inspiring.

Details: Club Monaco turtleneck, Gap blazer (both thrifted), Margiela skirt (swap), Paloma Picasso bag (Poshmark)

Thoughts: My obsession with the 90s has introduced a strong minimalist streak into my outfits this season. The challenge of minimalism for me is making something very simple still look visually impactful — to myself, whose eye has been conditioned by maximalism for years. Here, one bold (but simple) pattern, textural contrast (leather), and interesting proportions do the heavy lifting.

Details: handmade hoodie, Chicwish skirt (both thrifted), Laredo boots (consignment)

Thoughts: I couldn’t resist the flair of this homemade patchwork hoodie at the thrift store, just like I could not resist the exuberance of this outfit at home. I’m calling it Patchwork Grunge Princess, and it’s one of the more obscure corners of my 90s obsession. Someone on Instagram recently brought up the Romantic Grunge aesthetic of the 90s, and it sparked something in me. I loved that back then, and it has so many possibilities now — it has lots of synergy with my Bohemian avatar. I feel like this outfit is part of my exploration of that aesthetic.

Details: COS sweater, BDG jeans, Brave belt, Stuart Weitzman shoes (all thrifted)

Thoughts: More 90s stuff. I love these baggy jeans so much, after resisting the style for so long. It’s a different look from the wide-leg denim I’ve adopted over the last couple of years, but it definitely has a place in my current outfit rotation given the 90s influence. When I wear them, it’s the trendiest I ever feel which, surprisingly, does make me feel a little bit self-conscious at times. I never want to feel like a trend is wearing me, rather than vice versa, so I have to be more intentional with the styling to make it feel like “me”.

One of the most accessible ways to be sustainable when engaging with fashion is by taking care of what we already own. Clothes that are well cared for last longer, which allows them to remain in use longer – and in circulation on the secondhand market if necessary – and, thus, out of landfills. Unfortunately, clothes care isn’t as familiar a topic these days as it used to be, or ought to be. Speaking for myself, it took me years to realize what I was doing wrong and figure out how to do better. I blame washing machines — they make you think you know what you’re doing when, in reality, it’s not quite as simple as it seems. I’m by no means an expert now, but I have a good enough handle on it to allow me to keep my clothes in “good nick” (as the English say). And, good enough is good enough; even small tweaks can help a lot.

Washing Clothes – How Often is Too Often?

Listen, I know; this is a hot button topic for people. Just like there are people who wash their hair every day and refuse to believe that a person can be clean otherwise, there are people who believe that every item of clothing must be washed after every wear. Experts (and I’m not talking about myself here) all agree this is not correct, but I expect that will not convince some of you. It’s fine; if you’re in that category, there are other ways to increase the longevity of your clothes, but know that your clothes will wear out comparatively faster (no matter what else you do) due to washing frequency.

For everyone else: what should we be doing?

The answer, as always, is “it depends”. It will depend on everything from the type of item in question, to fabric content, to lifestyle, to personal factors such as proneness to sweat. This Vogue article provides some general guidelines. You will see, for example, that Levi’s recommends that jeans be washed after every 10 wears. Other experts suggest that wool sweaters can be washed at the end of the season. Whether you follow these guidelines to the letter or come up with your own (shorter or longer ones) is up to you and your own comfort level.

I’ll share my general approach, not because I’m suggesting it’s what you should do, but because you might find my thought process helpful.

A few things you need to know about me: I don’t sweat a lot (unless in a highly stressful situation); I live in a cold climate and spend most of my time in climate-controlled environments; I don’t do a lot of highly physical and/or outdoors activities; I am 100% WFH. All of these things factor into my decision-making about clothes-washing frequency – your mileage may vary.

Perhaps the most important consideration for me is: am I wearing the item directly against the skin, particularly in areas prone to sweat? Wearing base layers – which I tend to do for both practical (weather-related) and style reasons – helps to minimize how often I have to wash certain items. So, for example, if I’m wearing a cotton sleeved tee underneath a blazer, I am going to need to launder that blazer less often than if I wore it with a sleeveless tank. A piece that’s more tight-fitting and more likely to rub against my skin will get more frequent washing than something that fits loosely.

It’s basically the same principle that people in Ye Olde Days applied. They used wool, linen, and cotton underclothing – from chemises to petticoats and assorted other things, which were all regularly laundered – to protect their nice, expensive (and hard to clean) silk and velvet outer garments from contact with the body, which in those days was subject to a LOT less cleaning itself.

There are certain things I wash very infrequently, unless they become stained or impregnated with smells like smoke, etc. Jeans, most sweaters, coats, and skirts fall into this category for me. In contrast, I wash base layers frequently, every 1-3 wears depending on the item and fabric. Dresses, tops and blazers are a case-by-case situation. Because blazers usually require dry cleaning, which I like to avoid for both financial and environmental reasons, I usually try to wear a (sleeved) base layer under them to defer the need for cleaning as long as possible.

Something else I do to extend the time between laundering is to steam my clothes and air them out after wearing them and before putting them back in the closet. Steam is a very efficient sanitizer (though, obviously, it won’t work on stains), especially for pieces that are hard to clean via regular laundry. It takes very little time, doesn’t put extra stress on the clothing, and it really makes a difference. I also steam clothes before wearing them if I need to get wrinkles out, but mostly because I find it more convenient than ironing.

Washing Clothes – The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

By now, I hope we all know that the dryer is the main culprit in shortening the lifecycle of our clothes. I use it sparingly for things that aren’t (a) underclothing, (b) athleisure, or (c) loungewear (aka “house clothes”). Using a drying rack can be annoying at times, especially in a small house, but once you’re not washing everything constantly, it’s manageable.

I know some folks are “throw everything in the washing machine” people, but I am not quite that adventurous. My rule of thumb is: cotton, linen, polyester, acrylic, and blends of any of the above can go in the washing machine. Wool, silk, and embellished materials are handwash only. I will also make exceptions for items that are super valuable to me, and handwash those just to be on the safe side.

The only things I regularly dry-clean are blazers and heavy coats.

Leather care is a whole other topic, which I’m still learning about, tbh. Currently, what I do is gently wipe down leather items as needed, and steam clean the interior lining. (I also do this with fully-sequined pieces – turn them inside out and steam clean the hell out of the lining.) I’ve been lucky to avoid staining my leather clothing but if I did, I would seek out specialized help.

One thing I recently started to pay more attention to is the spin cycle. Basically, the higher the speed, the higher the agitation and cleaning power. Agitation can be bad for certain materials like wool. Higher spin cycles are best for cleaning heavily soiled items on durable fabrics like cotton, linen, and polyester. If I’m washing a lot of knits or more “delicate” items (like dresses and tops that aren’t very dirty), I’ll use a lower spin cycle (and the delicate cycle). This Laundress article touches on this and other useful tips for washing machine use.

I don’t use bleach in my washing machine cycles. My family doesn’t wear a lot of pure white clothing, but if I need to get stains or yellowing out of a white item, I will pre-treat it with Oxyclean then throw it in a regular cycle with other light-coloured clothing (or hand-wash as the case may be). I also pre-treat heavy stains on all types of clothing, but that is a topic that could take up a whole other post. My advice is always: if in doubt, Google will tell you what you need to do to treat a particular type of stain.

Mending Clothes

I know my way around with an embroidery needle, but I am not handy at all when it comes to sewing. Still, I am able to do the basics, including sewing on buttons and fixing small holes in most fabrics (silk excepted). And if I can do that, anybody can! Anything more elaborate, like hemming or replacing zippers, I will usually outsource because it’s something I simply don’t have the mental bandwidth to tackle. And that’s okay! Know and respect your own boundaries. Of course, if you have the time and inclination, learning as many simple mending techniques as possible can save you money. But if you don’t, don’t beat yourself up. Just recognize that clothing that needs a little bit of work can still have a lot of life left in it and treat it accordingly. It’s more sustainable to pay a little bit to fix an old garment than to buy it new again.

Shoes deserve a special mention here. I am not as diligent about water-proofing and moisturizing my leather shoes as I should be, although I am careful about what shoes I wear in wet conditions to minimize wear and tear. What I am very strict about is replacing heel tips and re-soling. Doing so proactively, before the heel or sole is fully destroyed, is really important and can extend the life of leather shoes indefinitely. Good, comfortable shoes are worth their weight in gold, so this is an expense I will happily incur.  

I hope you’ll find some useful information in this post (and the links are even better, I promise) and feel free to share your tips in the comments.