When it's 96 degrees, synthetic fabric is a betrayal. I don't care how cute that polyester slip dress is. It will hold your sweat like a grudge.
So on Saturday I took the L to Bedford and went thrifting in Williamsburg with one mission: linen, cotton, silk. Anything that lets your skin breathe like it was born to.
Thrifting in a heatwave is its own sport. The stores don't always have great AC, so you're sweating while trying on clothes to escape the sweat, which is a paradox I've made peace with. I hit L Train Vintage first, then wandered down to a little consignment spot near Grand.
Here's what I've learned working in this industry: read the label, but also feel the fabric. Linen wrinkles and that's the point — it's supposed to look lived-in. Real silk feels cool to the touch even in a hot room. Vintage cotton from the 70s is softer than anything they make new today because it's been washed a thousand times by someone who loved it before me.
The score of the day: a cream oversized linen shirt, probably men's, probably from the 90s, eight dollars. I'm going to wear it as a dress with a thin belt and my mother's old silver anklets. Sustainable fashion isn't a trend to me — it's just how my nani lived. She'd re-dye, re-stitch, pass down. Nothing was disposable.
Thrifting in Williamsburg has changed over the years — prices have crept up, the "vintage" tag gets slapped on things from 2015 — but if you dig, if you're patient, if you go on a sweaty Saturday when the crowds are thinner, you find the good stuff.
I also found a block-print cotton scarf that reminded me so much of the fabric markets in Ahmedabad that I bought it without even haggling. My grandmother would be appalled. Haggle, beta, always haggle.
I walked out with a full tote, damp forehead, and that specific joy of giving old clothes a second life.
Buy less, buy old, feel the fabric first.
Love,