VintageGriffin.com

SERIES: 10 Things I Would Do Differently If I Started Collecting Today -

Jonthan Walford,
Kickshaw Productions

This is an entry in an ongoing series. We're asking a range of vintage and antique clothing collectors what they would do differently if they began their collecting journeys today. Our experiences can make us better collectors and caretakers.



1) I would keep records of where and from whom I got everything and how much I paid or traded for it or whether it was a gift. It's amazing how you can forget the origin and prices after a few years! I would tag EVERY item in my collection when it comes in with a number, like a museum, and keep all the relevant records, bills, images, etc. in files associated with each garment. It doesn't have to be complicated but things like the original bills of sale, dry cleaning receipts with dates, photos of the original wearer in the dress, oral histories of who owned the item, invitations for weddings where I have the wedding dress etc. seem to get scattered about in numerous files awaiting a central filing location.

This clumsy-sounding word (to the modern ear) was two (very important) things to an 18th-century woman. It was a triangular piece of fabric which might be embroidered, bejeweled or beribboned. It was separate from the main portion of the gown and could be changed out as whim or time of day demanded (a more sedate version for day, and a more elaborate version for a ball, for example), It was an integral part of gown construction in the 18th century (see painting, next page).


A stomacher also referred to a specific type of jewelry that was pinned to the fabric stomacher. It was a must-have accessory, that recherche bit of 18th-century elegance, that affirmed a lady's wealth and position. The jewel "stomachers" were often part of a larger parure that would typically include earrings, a necklace, a brooch, and/or bracelets. Sometimes even a haircomb. And, for those entitled to wear one, a tiara.

For a long time now, I've been pretty dissatisfied with the quality and selection of curtains available for a modest sum, especially if I was wanting anything that might have some vintage flair. Lower prices, I have found, usually have meant inferior materials, instubstantial weights. What I was after -- William Morris, emboidery, beading, nice silk or linen curtains -- all seemed beyond the reach of a small budget. I was +terribly+ happy to stumble across Anthropologie's curtain and drape offerings.

Linens, cottons, velvets. Damasks, embroidery, beading. Mosses, nutmegs, persimmons. The selection is fairly wide ('tho I wouldn't complain to have more choices).

Who knew that Austrian and German traditional wear could be so chic? Lederhosen, loden and other traditional upland living apparel have been updated and reinterpreted into something a modern gal might actually wear. I received a catalog in the mail yesterday from an (outrageously expensive) company which I'd never heard of, and I almost tossed it out of anti-junk mail principles. But I did leaf through it and was impressed (as well as a bit disenchanted with the poses and the expressions of most of the models, which are a bit off-putting).


If the clothes weren't so outrageously expensive, I might have bought a couple of things. At this point I can only imagine. Me in a smart loden coat on a weekend trip to an alpine lodge. I'd be sipping hot Schokolade next to all the freshly hewn wood I've chopped for the crackling fire, chatting with Liesl and Martin, my friends from Baden-Baden. My other friend Inge (from Heidelburg) would walk in through the front door with its Black Forest carvings, brush a leaf from her hair, look at me and say, "Nice jacket." But she'd say it in German. Meta Leaf jacket, $1598 (told you it was outrageously expensive).

Crepeline is a silk organdy that has a loose weave that is used extensively in textile conservation. For textiles that are in tatters, the pieces are laid on top of a sheet of crepeline and the textile is sewn onto the top. I've also seen it used in the Metropolitain Museum of Art in New York on Louis XVI silk embroidered chairs. The embroidery was so fine and the 18th-century silk so fragile that the entire fabric portions of the chairs (seats and backs) were covered in this gossamer stuff that wasn't even immediately noticeable up close. It's fantastic stuff, heaven sent, and just the thing for tattering samplers and silk tafetta skirts.

Everyone loves dogs, just about. There's something very appealing to snapping a photo of our furry, honored friends. Sometimes we swear they know what we're doing, and preen and smile accordingly. A lot of folks have taken to collecting vintage photographs, and there are folks who collect anything related to pooches. It is in these canine portraits that these two yens meet.

There's also now a Web site that caters to this equation: vintage + dogs. The result is vintagedogs.com, and they try to cover lots of breeds and lots of items (linens, photos, ceramics -- just so long as it's woof-related). If you like, the winning pooch at left is available in their online shop. More vintage doggy pics can be scavanged at estate and garage sales, and of course, eBay.

I've always loved these, and someday (perhaps soon!) they will be in my kitchen. They're simple, cleanly designed, have that wonderful vintage kitchen feel and the French blue numbering also manages to connote a sense of order. When I cook, that's badly needed in my kitchen. They're a bit pricey, but they're ironstone, and ironstone is a great investment. It's extremely durable and wears -- well, like iron.

I have a set of inherited Johnson Brothers ironstone transferware, and that stuff is sturdy. It and these bowls are a nice counterbalance to the proliferation of plastic and nylon that is the culinary rage these days. $139 for a set of four.