A Vintage Jewel in a Stroller Wasteland

I’m not usually a hat person, probs because the only headwear that fits my little noggin is intended for small children.

I’m also not usually a vintage clothing person; I don’t give a shit if that musty suit jacket is Armani, I’m not paying $200 for anything with shoulder pads.

However, on the day I wandered into L. Verdi – a tiny vintage shop in Park Slope – I found I was both.

The heavily powdered and rouged proprietor initially greeted me with skepticism, and rightfully so. I’m fairly judgmental of patrons of Michael’s, Screaming Mimi’s, Zachary’s Smile, and the like – I deem them sartorial snoots willing to pay top dollar just so they can say, with feigned nonchalance, “This? Oh, it’s vintage.”
As I gingerly stepped around the racks bursting with pencil skirts, blazers and boots, I noticed that L. Verdi’s prices weren’t entirely ridiculous (if I knew anything about vintage clothing, I’d probably say they were reasonable). The clothing racks required more time for adequate assessment, so I thanked the rouged lady, complimented her store and vowed to come back. That’s when I saw the hats.

For someone who neither owns nor wears a lot of hats, I have a serious appreciation for millinery. The rouged lady enthusiastically pulled some options for me, and I had a 90s flashback of Mom and I trying on hats just for kicks at Henri Bendel. When I put on the hat pictured, we both cooed triumphantly. I wasn’t psyched that it was $55 until I saw the Stetson label stitched on the inside [high quality Stetson straw hats retail for around $200 - the material on this is so fab, it doesn't even feel like straw!].

What I love about the hat isn’t just that it fits my very small head. I love that it’s broken-in without feeling worn out – that it has a story behind it but that it’s still game for whatever lies ahead. Oy. You know you shop too much when you start subscribing human qualities to inanimate accessories.

Anyhoo, if you ever find yourself in my hood, take a gander to 68 St. Mark’s Ave. L. Verdi isn’t bright, big or user-friendly. But it’s a veritable treasure chest of things with stories waiting to be unearthed. Or just a place to score unique, well-priced clothes, depending on your point of view.