Stefan’s Vintage

Celebrity Encounters. Demonic Possessions. My decade in the vintage trenches.

“I need my pants to tell a story!” Matthew Weaver squinted with discerning disapproval from behind his thick black circular frames. I’m not sure what kind of story he needed for his pants to tell, but the 1940s gabardine pair I was suggesting were definitely not saying what he wanted to hear.

It was hardly the strangest request I received during my decade working at Stefan’s Vintage Clothing.

Established in 1977 in Atlanta’s Little 5 Points, Stefan’s specialized in men and women’s clothing and accessories from the Victorian era to 1964. It was named for its original owner, Stefan, a man I never met, who had been murdered: shot in the head during an attempted robbery. My boss, his former partner, frequently liked to relay how she’d cleaned his blood and brains from the shop’s walls with a toothbrush.

I started my tenure at this delightfully  dysfunctional vintage boutique as part time help while attending art school. I steamed and tagged 1930’s silk chiffon gowns and quickly learned that the shop’s name was pronounced Stef-N and not Stef-ON (like Stefan Urkel, Steve Urkel’s posh alter ego). I was meant to stay only temporarily, while another associate was away on an African safari. We had a window display inspired by her sojourn: a blonde mannequin wearing Victorian linen and lace reminiscent of Out Of Africa. When she decided not to return, I stayed on. And stayed on for the next eleven years!

In a nod to my boss’ macabre taste, the shop was decorated with original circus side show banners. The high ceilings provided plenty of wall space for Lion Faced Girl. Block Head. Frog Boy. Collectors were shocked to find pieces by Coney Island artist Snap Wyatt hanging on the walls of a dress shop in Georgia. They’d beg to purchase the banners right off their pegs, but they were firmly not for sale.

What we did have for sale more than made up for it: velvet smoking jackets, signed costume jewelry, 1950s tulle prom dresses, an entire section dedicated to tuxedos and dinner jackets, knit ban-lon polo shirts, ladies’ Lili Anne suits and fox trimmed coats, alligator handbags, and rack after rack of men’s vintage pants organized by size: ‘Hollywood waist’ pleated styles from the 1940s and peg legged Sta-Prest trousers from the 1960s.

At one point we had a pair of Fred Astaire’s own pants from the MGM costume department. The waistband was labeled with his name and couldn’t have been more than 28 inches around. Frequent customer, Mike Luckovich, (the Pulitzer Prize winning Atlanta Journal Constitution cartoonist) drew an illustration depicting my boss wearing Fred’s slacks. He captioned it: The last woman to get into Fred Astaire’s pants.

Across the aisle, a framed menu from the Copacabana signed by Sammy Davis Jr hung above a row of ascots and silk bow ties. Stefan’s received a regular shipment of custom made bow ties cut from the same fabric used by Ralph Lauren (and we sold them for a quarter of the price!). It was the best deal in town,  garnering us a feverish following of local bow tie fanatics.

With each delivery, I was tasked with pulling out the Bowtie Rolodex and making phone calls to our loyal clientele.

I’d dial the offices of lawyers, doctors, and judges and hear their professional tone immediately soften when I told them why I was calling. “Ooooo I’ll be right over,” was the standard reply.

I’d get the opposite reaction when I’d call a home phone number and reach one of the bow tie fanatics’ wives.

“Can I take a message for him?” They’d ask.

“Hi! Yes! This is Emily at Stefan’s Vintage. I  wanted to let him know that we’ve just received a new shipment of bow ties!”

“He has more than enough bow ties, thank you.”

Click.

Is there ever such thing as enough, though?

Working at Stefan’s I became a bit of collector myself. Over time I amassed a nice cache of Pucci mini dresses, 1950s Mexican circle skirts, and leopard furs (both faux and real). I bought rolling racks and turned my apartment’s second bedroom into a walk in closet to accommodate my ever expanding vintage wardrobe.

This was only possible thanks my employee discount and the shop’s generous layaway plan. Sometimes I’d model for Stefan’s print ads and get paid in store credit. You’d see me appearing in Atlanta magazine and Creative Loafing wearing a 1920s flapper dress and entirely too much makeup.

By the time I graduated from art school I was fully immersed in all things vintage and started working at the shop full time. I took on more responsibilities, including traveling to source our merchandise.

“WHERE DO YOU GET ALL THIS STUFF?” Is a pretty common question vintage dealers get to hear. The answer is not glamorous. Without giving away any trade secrets, I’ll just say that as buyer I was traveling to the boarder of Juarez, Mexico to participate in a dirty, sweaty, treasure hunt. People would be shocked to know where Dior Couture can turn up.

We did have everything dry cleaned before it went out on the shop’s racks. That wasn’t enough for some people, though. I was asked more than once if our items had been spiritually cleansed. (No. No they were not).

If our clothing was demonically possessed, that didn’t stop vintage dealers from all over the world from traveling to Atlanta specifically to shop at Stefan’s Vintage. We had regulars from New York, LA, London, and Tokyo buying from us to resell.

We also saw a lot of fashion design teams who purchased vintage for ‘inspiration.’

Kate Moss’s people paid us a visit when she was collaborating on a collection with Top Shop. When the line debuted I was amused to see an exact replica of one of our dresses: a citrine yellow off the shoulder chiffon cocktail dress. The fabric was cheaper, but the dress was exactly the same.

Local ATLien Andre 3000 started his own 1930s inspired clothing line called Benjamin Bixby, influenced by the type of pieces he regularly purchased at Stefan’s. Andre had (still has!) flawless sartorial sense. The New York Times called his ambitious tweed heavy collection “Ralph Lauren having a Steampunk moment.” (Not surprisingly, Ralph Lauren’s design team also shopped with us extensively!).

Stefan’s had its share of celebrity clients. We saw a lot of Atlanta locals like Andre 3000, Ceelo, and Usher. Our neighborhood, Little 5 Points, was a destination in itself: a haven for creatives and weirdos filled with independently owned record stores, second hand shops, and music venues. Bands arrived to L5P daily to play The Star Bar, The Point, and The Variety Playhouse. Inevitably, we clothed A LOT of musicians over the years.

Bruce Springsteen shopped with us multiple times whenever he was in town recording. He liked ‘loopneck’ double pocket gabardine shirts. If the sleeves were too short (a frequent issue with vintage long sleeve shirts) he’d just roll them up.

During one of Bruce’s visits a customer noticed they were in the presence of the Jersey Shore legend and eagerly asked my coworker “Is that The Boss?!”

My coworker, an older gay man completely unfamiliar with any celebrities since Joan Crawford’s reign, looked over at Bruce quizzically and replied ‘The boss? That guy doesn’t even work here!”

Cyndi Lauper bopped around the shop singing her own hit, Girls Just Wanna Have Fun. This was before her big Kinky Boots comeback and I think the girl just wanted to be recognized. Cyndi informed us that she was responsible for making vintage clothing popular and griped about how expensive it had become. Nonetheless, she did make a purchase (I cant remember what) and at check out looked me up and down appraisingly (Miranda Priestly style!) before decreeing: ‘This outfit. It’s cute.’

Marilyn Manson made a better impression. He arrived at Stefan’s in a casual black military cap and T-shirt along with his (then) wife Dita Von Teese and their own security detail. (The Anti Christ Superstar had been receiving death threats from religious fanatics leading up to his gig at the Omni Coliseum. Georgia is the Bible Belt, after all!).

Burlesque star Dita made choice selections of  silk velvet capes, cocktail dresses, and 1940s ‘tilt hats’ while Marilyn piled merchandise onto the counter with giddy abandon. Suspenders, top hats, ruffled tuxedo shirts, giant sunglasses, a one piece tuxedo jumpsuit: all went into a heap by the register.

“I’m definitely taking these!” He assured me, adding to the pile. While he shopped, Manson told self deprecating jokes and described in delighted detail the bootleg bong our neighborhood smoke shop had for sale featuring his likeness. He was silly and witty, charming all of us on the Stefan’s staff (even our resident Joan Crawford fan).

Marilyn used his black American Express card to purchase the impressive haul he and Dita amassed. I read in VOGUE that the two of them had an entire carriage house back home in Los Angeles just for storing their clothing and costumes.

Weeks after the couple shopped with us, Dita sent me an email with a tabloid article declaring her Best Dressed while wearing an emerald green evening gown she’d purchased at the store! It was such a nice gesture.

I was sad to hear it when Dita and Marilyn split up. Years later, it was much more disappointing to learn about the sexual assault accusations several women had made against Marilyn Manson. I hate to think that he used that sparkling charisma I witnessed first hand to take advantage of and abuse women.

Plenty of other musicians stopped through Stefan’s before playing the stages of Atlanta: The Hanson Brothers. Warren Ellis. Mick Fleetwood. Florence Welch, Les Claypool. Chris Isaak. Jenny Lewis (accompanied by her pal Winona Ryder, who did not steal anything). Rufus Wainwright (who gave us a shout out onstage while wearing the patchwork shirt he’d purchased) and Robert Plant, who was looking a little worse for wear and told us he needed to take a nap before his evening gig.

No one was more exciting to have as a customer, though, than Ringo Starr. When the Beatle came to Stefan’s he spent a good amount of time browsing the shop and trying on blazers. He’s short. Shorter than you’d expect (or maybe we just expect celebrities to be larger than life. Naomi Campbell seemed surprisingly short in person too). We didn’t have a blazer small enough to fit him. The smallest size we stocked was 38, and he’s got to be a 36 or even a 34.

While perusing our men’s shirt selection Ringo held up a red lurex collared number and turned to me.

“I dunno. Is it cool?”

Ringo Starr was talking to ME.

“Um yeah. Yeah. It’s cool.”

He bought the shirt.

I love that a Beatle asked me if something is cool. They invented cool!

Another musician that I loved getting to meet at Stefan’s was Modern Lover, Jonathan Richman. He was wearing his trademark blue stripe T- shirt when he came up to the counter to make a purchase. I took a small percentage off the price of the shirt he was buying and told him “You get the Jonathan Richman discount.” He seemed delighted to be recognized.

“Why thank you! And you will be my guest!”

I’d already intended to attend his show that evening, but was more than happy to get to go for free on Jonathan’s personal guest list!

A lot of guest list invites came my way while working at Stefan’s. I went to plenty of shows but I I never got Sharona-ed. You know the story behind My Sharona, right?

The lead singer of the Knack met a teenage Sharona (her real name) while she was working in a clothing shop. He invited her to come to see his band and she ended up leaving home to join them on tour. Sharona and the singer were in a relationship for years!

No bands ever whisked me away on tour or wrote a hit song about me, but one of Marilyn Manson’s bandmates did threaten to kidnap my favorite coworker. Before you get scandalized, I should clarify that said coworker was a cat!

Stefan’s had a resident shop cat, Ambrose, a long haired black Maine Coon of indeterminate age. He lived at the shop and could usually be found sunning himself in the window displays, collecting admirers. He was beautiful, but not particularly friendly. I think he was as tired as I was of people asking “IS THAT A REAL CAT?!” whenever he was sleeping on the jewlery counter.

Not everyone likes a shop cat. Especially a black cat. I saw many grown men turn on their heels and make hasty exits once they’d spotted Ambrose.

“Oh hell no. Black cat.”

Being a black cat in the South made Ambrose a target for all kinds of superstitions. Occasionally he was accused of being a demon or a witch in disguise. He was too lazy to be nefarious, though. The most mischievous thing I ever saw him do was slip under the dressing room curtains, surprising customers who’d been expecting a little privacy while trying on clothes. Mainly, Ambrose just liked to nap inside a hat box filled with linen hankies.

Stefan’s thrived through the retro revivals of the 90s and early 2000s. We outfitted guys and dolls head to toe in 40s garb during the end of the century swing dancing craze. When Mad Men came out, it was nearly impossible to keep skinny ties and jackets with thin lapels in stock. Men were buying suits again, hoping to look like Don Draper. We always had a pretty constant demand for Roaring 20s apparel. Jazz Age theme parties are always en vogue, but we saw a sharp uptick in sales with the release of Baz Luhrmann’s version of The Great Gatsby, starring Leonardo Dicaprio as Gatsby.

Sometimes the movies themselves were doing the buying. Tim Burton’s colorful fantasy Big Fish and the Jamie Foxx lead Ray Charles biopic are both filled with stars and extras dressed in Stefan’s wares.

Buisness at Stefan’s was great. Until it wasn’t.

In the 2010s our neighborhood changed. Little Five Points shoppers started asking for silkscreened novelty tees, cheap sunglasses, and ‘skull head’ belt buckles. It was a different clientele. Velvet dinner jackets and Classic Hollywood gowns were not in demand.

In 2013, after 36 years of business, Stefan’s Vintage closed. The grand retail space with its vaulted ceilings and molded arches now houses a T-shirt shop.

With Stefan’s closed, I left Atlanta for NYC. Eventually, I started working for Bergdorf Goodman. It’s not so different outfitting  women for charity galas than dressing them for a Mad Men party. At Bergdorf’s I still get plenty of crazy comments and requests. But so far no one has asked me to find them a pair of pants that tell a story.