My First Time ... Hearing My Clothes Called ‘Vintage’

During a closet purge of clothes that, at 54, I wasn’t ever going to be young or thin enough to wear again, I decided to sell some dresses on consignment. As a TV writer, I’d amassed a collection of floor-length designer gowns for various black-tie events. Once a friend who was shopping with me for an Emmy dress asked the saleswoman, “Don’t you have anything fabulous in the back?” — and she reappeared with a couture Christian Lacroix strapless, hand-beaded gown that had only just been delivered to the store. Sold!

That Christian Lacroix and several other silky treasures were in the body-sized bag I unzipped at the consignment shop, expecting the clerk to ooh and aah as my dates had when I had first worn the garments. Instead, she took one quick look and said, “We don’t take vintage.”

Excuse me? I thought. I bought these new! And not that long ago!

But then I did the math. “Not that long ago” turned out to be about 25 years, back when I worked on the original Sex and the City. (Saying you worked on the “original” anything dates you, I suppose.) I sheepishly took my treasures home and stuck them back in the closet.

Then one day recently, I found my preteen daughter and her friend oohing and aahing and twirling in front of a mirror in two of my gowns, cinched in to fit with hair clamps. I recognized the feeling. In those dresses, I had always felt a little like a princess playing dress-up. But I also realized that those frocks are badges of honor — proof that my work and I were worth splurging on and celebrating. Sure, they may be “vintage,” but the dresses represent pride in a job well done, a pride I was able to share with my child. That kind of opportunity never goes out of style.