I had the scary realization the other day that my youth is fast falling behind me. Seventy's items are now considered vintage. Funny, I thought all those hideous orange and gold plaid pants and cycadelic modern prints were just outdated--but no, they are now "vintage". How long will it be before those ugly little blue and pink geese from the 80's will be sold for a pretty penny as "charming vintage decor", or somebody's acid washed skinny jeans will be "vintage clothing" at some upscale consingment shop? And what does this make me--a vintage 70's chick? Someone who hails from the olden days? Do Rainbow Brite, Strawberry Shortcake, and that Glo Worm thingy now fall in with Raggedy Ann and the first teddy bear? When I am 70, even 50--heck, when I get my first gray hair--you can call stuff from my childhood "vintage"--but I'm not even 30 yet!
It's really unnerving to read craft blogs and see someone gushing over the "vintage" patterns she got, and realize that I wore a size 2T outfit in that very style. So how old is she--12?
Well, I guess if you can't fight 'em join 'em. I could always don a puffy-sleeved peasant blouse and bell bottoms and open a vintage clothing boutique. I can let my glasses slide down my nose, peer over the top, and say to little girls who come shopping with their grandmas, "This is what people wore a loooong time ago--when I was a little girl!"
On second thought, maybe that's not such a good idea. I guess I will just have to subject myself to the outrage and learn to age gracefully. Except that I'm not aging. Yet. I'm just outdated, not vintage. Really.