How old are YOUR clothes?

Okay, I’m cleaning out my closet. I always check the pockets in case there’s money, and I found a ticket to a high-school production of The Odd Couple, which I saw back in 1999. Mmmkay, guess THAT outfit should go to the boneyard.

Then I found a silk knit blouse I always liked but didn’t wear a lot because it didn’t match anything and by the time I found something that went with it perfectly it had moth holes in it. But I saved it anyway. That one’s even older. In fact, it’s 24 years old. (But it’s only had moth holes for about 18 years.)

Now, I don’t have anything that I wore in high school, although I do have a black pleated skirt that I got for college, although I never wore it then, because when I was in college, in the '60s and '70s, jeans were the things to wear. I believe I wore it some years later on job interviews.

Found another outfit, which I like to think of as “classic,” and I’m thinking well, that one’s not so old. Then I remembered wearing it when I was pregnant, and the kid is now 10.

I can’t take any of this stuff to the consignment store because it’s not new enough OR old enough. The only thing to do is keep it until it’s “vintage” and that black skirt ought to be getting there any day now.

I’ll bet there are people on this board younger than a good portion of my wardrobe!

I still have a pair of cordovan lace up wingtips I bought when I was 18 and decided to to wear some dress shoes that weren’t cowboy boots.

That was in 1981.

I have, and occasionally still wear, a pair of white, knit socks I used in high school marching band (1979-1978). They don’t even have holes in them (although they look a little dingy).

I have mint condition Rolling Stones Steel Wheels Tour T-Shirt (early '80s). I don’t wear it though, only became I, uhm, can’t.

The weirdest things, though, are two pair of tennis sneakers (6 and 8 years old) with HUGE holes in the soles – I can’t bear to throw them out because I loved the styles so much.

I moved recently, and had reason to go through the wardrobe and consider purging. I didn’t purge much, but I did notice how old some of my favorite pieces are. Favorite shirt? A fabulous white cotton band-collared blouse with drawstrings to shorten the sleeves. I stole it from my mom, who wore it in the early seventies. As a result of so many washings, the fabric is now so thin that I have to be very careful to wear a flesh-colored, non-translucent bra underneath. I also “inherited” a great pair of ankle-high moccasins from my mom – she thinks that she got them in about 1967. My other favorite article of clothing is a Pendleton Mills wool trenchcoat, given to me for high school graduation. When the coat was purchased, I was appalled that it cost $200+ at the factory, but it has proved its worth: I’ve worn it every winter since it was gifted to me in 1987. (My favorite sweater was also purchased that same summer, for $1.98 and no sales tax, since I bought it in Portland, Oregon.) And I was peeved to discover recently that my favorite pair of shorts is too big now, and wearing out at the seams. Then I recalled wearing those shorts over swimsuits when I was dating my first high school boyfriend. The shorts are “only” twenty or so years old.
Truly, though, if I had my way, my wardrobe would be even older. I adore 1950s fashion, and it suits my body shape. Unfortunately, though, I’m too long-waisted and too tall for most vintage stuff to fit me properly; and there’s no practical way to lengthen waists on old clothes. To this very day, I’m plotting some way to alter a recital dress of my aunt’s to fit me: It’s a pewter-colored raw silk confection with 3/4 sleeves, a scoop neck, full (very fifties) skirt. Simple, beautifully tailored. And the waistline sits about 2.5 inches above my waist. The only vintage clothes I have that fit me are the suit my father wore when he married and a late-forties Army officer’s overcoat.

I still have my letter jacket from high school in 1979. I still have never affixed the letter to the jacket.

We went to a family reunion in 1993, the year my son was born. T-shirts were made up with the year on them. I’m saving one for my son so someday when he’s an old man he can wear a 90 year old shirt.

When we moved to this house my husband finally gave an old suit to Goodwill. It was from his sister’s wedding when he was 16, it was 26 years old. Every time I went to Goodwill I would see it. Finally one day it was gone.

Last year I threw away some shorts that I wore all the time just because they were 9 years old, they were still perfectly nice.

I have a sweatshirt that’s 20 years old that someone wears at least once year.

My clothes are quite young, but I have the heels I wore to junior high graduation in 82-83. They’re still fabulous.

Lamar, you’re one step ahead of me. I never bought the jacket.

I almost forgot my catholic school uniform, though I don’t actually wear it much. So mid to late seventies for that. It still fits! Sort of.

The Steel Wheels tour was 89 - 90. :slight_smile:
I’ve got a Sammy Haggar “I can’t Drive 55” concert shirt that glows in the dark. Not sure what year, I’m thinking early 80’s.

I have socks that date back to high school. Recently I got rid of the odd ones after oh, maybe twenty years.
I have a coat that was my grandmothers, maybe 30 years.
The oldest though, is my great grandmother’s bathrobe. It was made by Sears; the tag has those little stars that all Sears clothes had way back when. It’s so threadbare you can see right through it, but dammit, it has snaps instead of a tie, and it fits.
It has to be at least fifty years old. I’ve only had it since she died.
When I was ten.

I’ve got a Styx Kilroy tour concert shirt, an Ozzy Diary of a Madman tour jersey (it was one of the first ones with Brad Gillis) and a shirt I made back when I was in 4-H. What this says about me, I am not sure. My husband seems to think it says “I never clean my closets”, but I disagree. I think it proves I have exquisite taste. :smiley:

Nearly all of my dresses are at least 30 years old and some are as old as 60. The one I’m wearing right now is a 1950s wiggle dress with a darling little butterfly applique on the collar. You just can’t find new clothes that are this much fun. I don’t know if that really counts though, since I seek them out specifically because they are vintage.

The oldest item I own that’s original to my family is a white peasant shirt that my grandmother embroidered with bright yarn flowers around the neckline for my father back in the 60s. I wear it often, and my mom laughs at me every time.

RunAmok, that sounds like a wonderful dress. I have several 1950’s dresses. That time was wonderful for pretty clothes.

I have a yellow silk skirt from the last 1860s, but I rarely wear it (it’s so hard to get a bustle to fit it!).

Actually, what I’m wearing today is brand-new: a pale pink linen skirt and mint-green cotton sweater I just got from Lands’ End yesterday. I have a lot oif vintage clothes (I think I once had an unsuccessful “where can I sell them?” thread), but I never wear them—I’d like them to go to a museum or private collector.

The “late” 1860s, that should be; though they also were the last 1860s . . .

We were looking through some familiy photos a few weeks ago when I noticed that the shirt I was wearing in the picture was the same shirt I was wearing that day. The picture was taken in the hospital the day my son was born. He turned 14 this month.

I have a Marithe and Francois Girbaud jean jacket from highschool, that ended in 1990 for me.

I love it deeply. I also have a few vintage pieces that are WAY old. (I have a hand bag from my grandmother, circa 1950, and a handbag from my great-grandmother, circa 1910 that I use on occasion.)

My oldest race T-shirt is from 1977.

I still wear some of the clothes I wore when I was in college in the 1960s. Some things just never seem to wear out.

The shirt I’m wearing I’ve had at least since elementary school–8 years minimum, probably 10 or more. Never seen one like it though, it’s bright pink with the sleeves and the bottom cut into fringes. It’s from Portugal too (gift from an aunt), so even if I stopped wearing it I’m not sure I’d get rid of it.