I remember when Vintage was called Second-Hand

My name is Melissa and I like to dress like my nana. Not the best first liner on meeting possible suitors but nevertheless affirmative. My eyes get stingy at present when in high street stores when having to pretend I don't find aztec print god awful. I haven't pryed the topshop website for over 6 months, I don't suit jersey fabrics and I spent £40 on 16 items at a kilo sale. I have come to terms with and now it's time for you to swallow it back.

Upon returning from Glastonbury (I CAN'T GET NO.......), it mostly made me re-remember how much I have a distant foggy head away from fruit printed cotton, floral headbands, baggy garments and distasteful fringing.

This post is in no way a self-indulgent parade of word vomit upon the attempt to prove to the shallow public that I'm too good for the high street. My word no. I just believe that perhaps of late, the high street will leave you penniless in cut out dungarees, and nobody wants that!

Congregating a jumble of clothes a dead lady probably wore is my cryponite, I've always had the passion for the thrill of the chase!

Upon my relaxing charity shop upheavals, I've found two golden nuggets worth sharing to the people of Tyne & Wear



Attica Vintage, Newcastle Upon Tyne

Age Concern, Blandford Street, Sunderland

So in ode to the cheapo searching, I've set up a moodboard of looks and inspirations I take heed with upon my quests for delights.