In a world of fast fashion and a to follow the trends, my maximalist aesthetic is a living, breathing reminder of the value of vintage. It’s nothing new to suggest there’s nothing new any more.
More than a century ago, Mark Twain wrote that “substantially all ideas are second-hand, consciously or unconsciously drawn from a million outside sources”. And the nostalgia trend runs through today’s popular culture.
The Top 10 movies so far in 2025 include eight sequels or reboots, from live action Disney remakes to Bridget Jones and Jurassic World: Rebirth. On TV, HBO’s mammoth Harry Potter series promises an extended second shot at the blockbuster franchise while, closer to home, Gladiators was the biggest returning entertainment format of the decade.
In recent years, brands from Co-Op to Burger King have looked to the past as they shaped their future brand identities.
Working in a creative agency, I’m surrounded by the lure of the new. But I believe new ideas can be overrated. Looking to the past for inspiration can be a creative act all of its own.
For example, my love for vintage fashion is far more than a trend.
It’s deep-rooted in family tradition and childhood nostalgia, and inspired by my late Granny, who I see as a true style icon. In a world of fast fashion and pressure to follow the trends, my maximalist aesthetic is a living, breathing reminder of the value of vintage.
Second-hand style isn’t just about saving pennies or the planet (though it does both brilliantly). It’s about wearing stories, taking pride in being a walking art piece – and not looking like everyone else.
Second-hand shopping, or thrifting, is one of my greatest passions. For me, it’s the thrill of the hunt, the joy of the unexpected and the smug satisfaction of snagging a vintage gem for the price of a takeaway coffee. What’s more, it makes me feel better to give my money to charity shops rather than mass corporations. The way I see it, it’s better to extend the lifespan of existing garments, rather than buying everything new and further feeding the fast fashion industry.
Movie memories
It started when I was little, playing dress-up in Gran’s wardrobe. Born in the 1920s, Granny was a Land Army girl in the Second World War. We would watch vintage films together, she’d share fashion secrets with me – and, from an early age, I was transfixed.
As I got older, Gran would tell me all about her tricks in keeping up appearances during the war, such as staining her legs with coffee and using coal to imitate seams – to give the illusion of wearing the stockings she and her friends could no longer get hold of due to rationing. When Gran passed, I inherited some jewellery and accessories from her. These treasures help keep her memory alive for me – every time I wear something of hers, it takes me back to being a little girl playing dress-up while dancing to Frank Sinatra.
Each thrifted item I own has a past, a whisper of a life once lived. I love finding a dry-cleaning ticket in a vintage coat, or a cinema ticket stub in a handbag… it’s like I’m getting a peek into its history. I’ve always leaned towards the eclectic, the unusual, the one-of-a-kind. Fast fashion never spoke to me… it’s too samey, too soulless.
My weekends are often spent rummaging through charity shops, flea markets and car boot sales. I love antique fairs and the thrill of finding something truly unique. Online, Vinted is my go-to, bringing the same scavenger hunt energy to the digital world. I follow a few favourite sellers and keep an eye out for quirky pieces, especially vintage earrings (I’ve got hundreds!) and I love the For You feature. It suggests things I never knew I needed – until I do.
When out charity shopping, you can look beyond your size and gender. Feel the fabric, check the label, and trust your gut. If it sparks joy and feels like it has a story, it’s probably a keeper. The challenge of finding something special, something no one else has, is half the fun.
Tech-led textiles
With a two-up, two-down cottage and a wardrobe bursting at the seams, I’ve had to get creative with my wardrobe to stay on top of it. I rotate my clothes seasonally and store them in vacuum bags, blanket chests and under-bed boxes. Because my clothes are stored all over the place, I have recently started a digital wardrobe (à la Cher Horowitz in Clueless) – so I can see all my items immediately. I’ve catalogued more than two hundred pieces, sorted by colour, occasion or theme (listing all my earrings and accessories is my next big project).
The system comes in handy when I’m planning outfits for big occasions or holidays. I try to stick to a one-in, one-out policy to keep my spending down and not get carried away – especially on Vinted, where I sell pieces to fund the purchase of new ones.
Second-hand shopping has empowered me to be more adventurous. It’s not about trends for me – it’s about expression. Gran’s stories and her love for musicals sparked my passion for vintage glamour, and that influence still runs deep. Old-school style icons like Audrey Hepburn and Grace Kelly will always inspire me. But it’s not just aesthetics – it’s about ethics. Knowing the damage fast fashion causes, from child labour to environmental waste, makes second-hand feel like a small act of rebellion. My wardrobe reflects my values: sustainability, creativity, individuality. I like to think of it as a curated collection of stories, stitched together with care and conscience.
There are always old stories waiting to be retold, remixed and rediscovered. How many of us are waiting for the Wicked sequel, arriving in cinemas in November, and based on a musical from the 2000s, based on a movie from the 1930s, based on a novel written in the 19th century? So, for me, second-hand isn’t second best, it’s my first choice. It’s fashion with heart, history, and a whole lot of personality. Whether it’s a car boot treasure or a Vinted bargain, every item has a story – and I get to be part of its next chapter.
My wardrobe reflects my values: sustainability, creativity, individuality. I like to think of it as a curated collection of stories, stitched together with care and conscience.
