This is the third and the last post of a mini series about my fall wardrobe essentials: vintage sweaters. In this series I show you how I blend vintage sweaters into my modern outfits.
Want to see the first and second posts? They are right here: blue sweater, jacquard sweater.
Vintage Grey Sweater
So let’s look at the third and last vintage sweater in this mini series! It is made of very soft wool, and it is one of the most comfortable and cozy clothes I have. When I do not feel well, I wear this sweater. It comforts me and calms me down, it feels like taking a warm bath with bubbles that wraps my body in peaceful conform and warmth. The cut of the sweater flatters me, so I do not need to worry about my belly looking too big or my jeans being too tight. Its colour perfectly suits my colour type; grey highlights my hair and skin and gives my eyes the colour of deep stormy sea. The sweater forgives my weaknesses and lacks of sleep; it comforts me. It is my dear friend that supports me during difficult periods in my life. I feel and look damn good when I wear it!
I assume the sweater is made in 80s. It has no labels apart from a tiny piece of the tag on the neck. It is impossible to sort out what’s written on it, but it is big enough to see it is vintage.
In this relaxed outfit the sweater is accompanied with yellow boots by Jeffrey Campbell – another lucky thrift find of mine! – and a traditional Russian woolen shawl. The shawl was a gift from a Russian friend of mine who bought it in Russia while visiting the family. I could have got it myself, but I go to Russia sporadically… The shawl is made of very fine wool of high quality, and the fringe is pure silk. These traditional shawls represent a big piece of Russian legacy culture. Each ornament is drawn by a shawl painting artist, and each artist has their signature patterns. The quality of the manufacturing is impressive. You can read more about it on the website of the Pavlovo Posad Shawl Manufactory.
Behind The Scene Of The Grey Sweater Photoshoot
These photos were taken on the same day with the pictures of the jacquard sweater. Same day, but so different mood… On these pictures the autumn has stopped playing with bright colours and got matured in preparing to give up the ruling rights to winter.
The photos are taken in my neighbourhood on one of the signature Montreal outdoor staircases (there are so many of them in old parts of Montreal). Before finding this spot we again spent quite some time wandering and looking around. I was subconsciously seeking a spot that would reflect the warm look of the sweater and go well with the colours of the outfit. Red leafage would be too distracting… wooden fences were missing a vibe… doors were boring… and we kept walking and walking, and my boyfriend was becoming more and more impatient. It was clear for me that me must start shooting now, otherwise he would get annoyed and would refuse executing his noble job of being my personal photographer.
Luckily for me and for him I eventually saw these stairs. An ochre rug, leaves in muted yellow, dark staircase frame, deep shadows… it all clicked in my head and I saw the picture! And we started shooting. A light breeze made the pictures a bit less static while I caught the mood of fall nostalgia invoked by aging look of the stairs. It was a calm thoughtful session, and both Sam and I enjoyed our intimacy and quietness of the shoot.
I actually bought the sweater three years ago. Back then, I was only starting to shape my vintage style, and many of my outfits were… mmm… let’s say strange. This one was among a few successful ones, as I see it now. The boots are the same Jeffrey Cambell’s, and the skirt is in fact a thrifted underskirt. It is now hidden somewhere in my closet, and after looking at this picture I want to find it and put to use again. Fall looks chic when framed with lace.
What Do You Think About My Vintage Sweaters?
Which ones did you like the best? I am curious to hear your opinion 🙂
Disclaimer: Yup, this post may contain affiliate links! If you buy something from me, I get some margarita money (not enough to buy a pair of shoes). Read more here.