Along with the fact that I am a prolific baker, it is one of my defining characteristics. I love clothes. I love buying them, looking at the, picking out what order and arrangement to wear them in, I (sometimes) even like ironing them.
When I was younger, however, I hated clothes. I hated standing around the shop while my mother asked me which top I liked better, and I remember especially hating trying anything on (and my mother made me try everything on). But somewhere along the road to high school, shopping and clothes buying became a favourite past-time. This in itself is nothing unusual. What was unusual (at least in comparison to my group of friends) was my growing distaste for wearing pants, and my deep love of op shopping.
The skirts-and-dresses-over-pants thing stemmed, I think, from my body image issues and the feeling that, when in a skirt or dress, my thighs seemed smaller. To this day my love of girly clothes confuses my tomboy mother (who herself rarely wears skirts and never dresses).
My love of op shopping is something she can relate to. After it's all her fault. We lived in a town with four op shops, and my mother was a frequent visitor of all. When I began to enjoy shopping she taught me how to search through the rack for the clothing gems, and how keeping in mind what you've got a home to match.
This love of bargain hunting eventually led me to vintage clothes. I think my first vintage purchase was of beret (the beginning of one of my clothing loves).
(one day, I'll have a camera and you'll get real-live pictures instead of crapping ms-paint)
Now, I would say that about one half to three quarter of my wardrobe is vintage/a hand-me-down/second hand in some way (not counting underwear, because we all know the first rule of op shopping). And I like it that way.
