Past versus present. Chose now!

A dear friend of mine is organizing these days a vintage clothes and accessories fair at a cozy venue located in the very heart of the city.  Today, I put on my boyfriend jeans, my favorite  sweater, a pair of suede ankle-length boots and a warm coat, and went out into the cold around 4pm. The last door in the title story, “Four Doors”, opens into the early forties, at the beginning of the 2nd World War, and I intended to transform myself again into the Teacher and see what outfits I would chose.

The air was already smelling like winter. I parked the car several blocks away from the location and got there on foot. The city was half-asleep, in an after-noon nap, preparing for the crazy night ahead. The streets were clean, cleansed of humans, garbage, high voices, tensions, shouts, insults, all of these mixed emotions, actions and states of mind from during the week. Half – century old buildings were standing tall, apparently enjoying the freshness of the moment, watching over the rare walkers.

The venue was packed with vintage lovers. Mostly women. Mostly young. Some of them were putting on a display of imagination and taste that matched the exhibitor’s offers. Others looked plain and pale, on a hunt for something – a scarf, a dress, a broach, that would make them feel better about themselves. Get them noticed. Everything is negotiable here.  And you don’t even have to open your mouth to get a better price. I barely put my hands on a slick,  golden belt when the vendor – a middle age, stout lady, gave me a five percent reduction.

After taking the tour, I realised that, despite her apparent stiffness,  the Teacher was a cool person. She would ride a bicycle wearing a red, elegant hat, red knee long socks hidden under a grey dress. And she would prepare her lectures wearing a pair of sophisticated ear rings.

Walking back to my car, I couldn’t help making a connection between people being drawn to vintage objects and people being constantly living in the past. Why do we need to wear things created years ago, worn out (more or less), that belonged to somebody else, instead of heading out for the new? Is the reality we live in so insufficient that we need to escape into the past? And if we need to elope, why don’t we do it by creating something from scratch?

What’s scarier? The unknown or the old patterns, repeated infinitely? I’d go for the second. Between the past and the future, I chose the…now!