Having lived in Manchester, arguably the home of vintage, where underage blue rinsers rub shoulders with genuine alcoholic down-and-outs in it's harlem-esque Northern Quarter, I found that by my mid 20's my wardrobe had moved in a decidedly flammable direction. Never feeling fully dressed without my headscarf and plastic pearls, it seems those musty second hand shops have really left their mark.
Naturally, now returned safely to the provinces, where there is but a bus an hour and charity shops are blissfully ignorant of the potential profit margin of a 60's patent leather handbag, I found I was frequently attending vintage fairs. Woore, in Shropshire boasted one of the best, complete with dog show and 'Polly's Vintage Ice Cream van.'
The title for Shropshire's best vintage fair was challenged by the 'Bus Stop Vintage' events held at St.Mary's Church in Shrewsbury. Regrettably, the highly vaulted ceilings made for a rather chilly changing room. No chance of fire, regardless how fast I pulled on my polyester number...
Here are a few snaps from vintage fairs I've serenaded....
