Rants: Lower East Side Vintage

Yesterday afternoon, in the spirit of amping up my knowledge of all-things-secondhand, I did a walking tour of the Lower East Side’s vintage shops. To say I was nonplussed would be putting it lightly – appalled is more like it. The excursion was so infuriating, it actually made me want to go to yoga. I mean, I down-dog a few times a week anyway because I know it’s good for me, but it’s not like I’m ever dying to go to class. The prospect of devoting an hour and a half out of my day to health and inner peace (bah!) is something I usually dread.

Yesterday was a different story: One can only deal with so many nasty salespeople and stomach so many $150 polyester-print dresses before she totally loses her shit. I had two choices: I could block the experience out altogether and pretend it never happened, or I could go to yoga and emotionally disengage enough to write about it sans going completely insane. So I went to fucking yoga. Pfft. My tour began with evil glares from the saleswoman at Narnia; said glares were likely a byproduct of my hightailing it to the SALE rack upon entering the store. (Beotch please, you’re making ten bucks an hour hawking old shit at astronomical price points – YOU couldn’t afford this crap without your employee discount. You want to judge me for my attempt to find something reasonable, go right ahead.) I noticed a lot of decades-old, no-name fugliness priced at over $100 a piece on account of being expertly preserved. There was also an abundance of premium designer garb. I’m not the kind of asshole who’s ever paid upwards of $1000 for Chanel or Lanvin or whatever; maybe those brands cost less in their vintage state, but $350 ballet flats aren’t what I’d call a steal. From a purely superficial standpoint, the boot and bag selection was killer – unfortunately, no boot or bag under $200 was to be found. BOO.

Next up was The Sweet Ones; a shop that was probs opened by the daughter of an aging rock star with too much time and money on her hands. The selection was costume-y to the point of lunacy – sequins and feathers and lace, oh my! Okayfine, it was kind of fun to browse, but an eighties puff-sleeved taffeta prom dress for $180? COME ON. The bulk of the eye-popping stock was priced at around $100, and utterly impractical to boot (avante garde dressers might disagree, but I’m not shopping for them, so whatevs). Also, demerits on the shoe selection – kitten and square heels, positively nauseating.

After that I hit Some Odd Rubies: A shop specializing in reconstructed vintage. I’m totally on board with the notion of creating new garments from old material – it’s uber eco-friendly, but I have yet to see it done in a cost-effective way, and this store was no exception. Vintage Aesthetic + Modern Silhouette = Stunning, and Really Effing Expensive. Most of the dresses were $200 or more, egads! Still, the store had a few noteworthy upsides: (1) a small sale rack of under-$50 items and (2) a genuinely nice salesgirl – a rare thing in this hood.

Cut to Daha, where the shopkeeper seemed irritated by my entry. Look, you want to eat your lunch on the job, I’ve got no issues with that, but you’re not allowed to be angry at me if I stop in while you happen to be gnoshing. I tried to make peace by complimenting her on the space and layout of the store (which, btdubs, is EPIC – it’s more loft-like, modern art gallery than vintage boutique) – no dice. She pretended I wasn’t there, which is fine as I prefer to browse undisturbed. Still, it was awkward. The clothes get a big fat meh – same overpriced polyester crapola. The boots, however, were a serious step up from its Lower East vintage brethren like WHOA. The selection was meticulously organized by size and color – hundreds of expertly-preserved pairs lined the perimeter of the space. I was pleased to find many in the $110 range – not cheap, but not ridiculous either, particularly for mint-condition vintage boots. I was impressed to the point of temptation, and might have tried a few pairs on… if the woman running the place hadn’t been such a standoffish bitch.

And THAT, dollfaces, about sums up the Lower East Side. I appreciate originality, preservation, clothes as ‘art’ and all that jazz, but not at the expense of my budget. I’m a consumer for whom cheap trumps all, crude as that sounds. I believe that if something’s been worn before, it should cost less than something you’d see at Searle or Scoop. Lower East Side vintage breaks the rule and is, heretofore, an offense to MY ART: The art of the steal.

You want well-priced vintage, hit Metropolis in the East Village. Stay away from the LES.