There is a lot of nostalgia now. To go into a clothing shop this means exposing themselves to a lightning-fast teleportation to the big kragsnibbarnas era: the 1970s. To flickblommiga höghalsade dresses with drooping ruffles, bandvagnstjocksulade clumsy shoes and vinddragna wide trousers.
the Very fabric of everything, and then in the 70's as a response to the 60's, jovial, colourful tygsnåla period with miniskirts and navelkorta shirts. A remarkable era of both the go-go-dancing released aningslöshet and demonstrationstågande rebellious responsibility. Modemässigt my favourite time and much more fun than the 70s brown-orange-the drab era.
everything recurs, but it is the small little details that reveal the real time. A certain kind of gabardintyg or a crossover byxhälla is like a watermark on a banknote.
Because we now live in a recycling era, so you can ask their conscience if the man should have kept his old clothes from the 70's or 80's? Hmmm. I know a man who saved the most from their prosperity. The time when his charm, power and persuasion peaked.
Proudly he usually take out five, six white trousers, creep them, in an increasingly rising red face paint, draw a hopelessly faded pastel-colored windbreaker over his head, and then triumphantly observed:
– See you there! Yep!
– Näpp! usually when my nybrutalistiska answers become.
But he has a typical in-cases-that-mentality, and pular in the clothes to garderobsvila for a while.
in my wardrobe after klädreliker from my previous life. Nothing here, nothing there. But suddenly a glimpse of a älsklingsplagg. A couple of floral sammetsbyxor from the early 90s purchased in Berlin.
I do like my friend, eels, them on me. Yeah, well, maybe ... but the waist ... five to six centimeters to be taken in order to be able to snap them. I get a tip about a tailor, rushing there, explains that no evil may happen dyrgriparna. They need to be laid out with care and reverence.
the Tailor smiles, he has heard it before. He twists and turns on my pants, measure and nods. No problem.
A week later I get the pants and found that the tailor is a magician. The expenditure is not visible.
When I feel happy walking out of the tailor's workshop, I meet a woman with a 60-talsklänning under the arm. She is wearing the dress carefully as a small child, something priceless. Behind the counter stands a tailor. He knows what she will say and he smiles.