Vintage

A cultural phenomenon. A sentimental concept. A transverse trend. Which, instead of wearing the clothing of novelty, prefers to wear memories. In fashion, vintage is the rehabilitation of the cult of the “poor” look of the 1970s, which for wearing only used clothing as a way to reject a political and social system intended to promote — according to the “revolutionary” thinking of the time — induced needs for capitalistic consumer goods. From the 1990s on, ‘used’ clothing played a new and unprecedented role, that of custodian of memories. It is no accident that the etymology of the term descends directly from the language of the oenologist, and from an Anglo-French phoneme: “vintage” originally refers to the year of a grape harvest, and therefore to a fine old wine. Equally ripened were the outfits revived in this move “back to the future,” revived from second-hand stores to new life in specialty clothing boutiques that featured previously worn clothing (in Milan Cavalli and Nastri and Franco Jacassi, in Lugo di Romagna A.N.G.E.L.O., in Paris Didier Ludot, Catherine Arrigoni, Les Trois Marchés and Le Bonheur de Sophie, in London the vendors of Portobello Road and Notting Hill, in New York Little O and Resurrection, in Los Angeles Paper Bag Princess). In Italy, a central location of vintage fashion is the second-hand fair that is held at the Castello di Belgioioso, in the province of Pavia. But this is not the end of its allure, in the retro flavor of accessories and outfits that have been “recycled” from intense periods of fashion creativity: the 1950s, the 1960s, and the 1970s. In a certain sense, even the great affirmation of ethnic style can be interpreted as Vintage. Which in any case responds to a two-fold demand of contemporary aesthetics. On the one hand, the requirement of satisfying the unprecedented demand of assembling in total mental freedom outfits that come from different eras and styles, thus appointing vintage as a true exemplar of the Postmodern Wardarobe. Protagonist: the free-form recovery of items and accessories subject to reinterpretations (sweatclothes that lose their sleeves and become skirts, shirts that are transformed into bags, trenchcoats recut into evening wear). On the other hand, it corresponds to more deep-seated motivations: the desire for stability, security, reliability. Which, in uncertain times like the ones we live in, become inevitable and crucial requirements. The perennial confusion of the debate over everyone’s everyday life, increasingly invasive technology, the disorder of conflicting socio-cultural signals all trigger a yearning for a genuinity “d’antan” which has a great deal to do with Romanticism and tradition. This helps to explain why, over recent years, many fashion houses have worked directly upon used clothing (the first to do so was the Belgian designer Martin Margiela, followed by the American Susan Cianciolo and the Italian Antonio Marras) or else have created specialty lines in simil-vintage fashion. Or else brand-new outfits that seem old, from ripped and restitched jeans all the way down to the patchwork of antique fabrics for mass production. The principal antidote to the “most deep-rooted syndrome of our contemporary age, an addiction to the new and the future, rendering obsolete anything that is not brand spanking new” (James Hillmann), the “old” — whether real or merely apparent — will save this world, too crazed with a thirst for the new.