By Richard Grainger

It’s a Saturday morning and I’m on Oldham Street, in Manchester’s northern quarter. A cloudless
sky manages to lighten the gloom of the late-Victorian industrial architecture.

Buildings resigned to a post-colonial functionality, home no longer to the grandiose
trading companies that built the empire, now with ground floors given over to alternative
retailers and upper floors to technology here-today-gone-tomorrowers.

It’s appropriate then, that Oldham Street is the hub of Manchester’s growing vintage scene.
Mostly what’s for sale is not new – let’s call it pre-owned, previously cherished or just
good old second-hand – unless of course it’s “own brand” vintage.

Down the road, the Arndale Centre houses 240 shops and department stores and is the High Street
shopper’s Nirvana. From Poundland to Pandora, there’s something there for
everyone.

I’m in Oldham Street to find out about Vintage. I must confess that somehow it had slipped
under the radar of my fashion antennae, but what doesn’t? You see, I wrongly
considered that there wasn’t much of a market for second-hand clothes,
bric-a-brac or semi-collectable knick knacks. And if there was, I’d figured,
charity shops had it pretty well cornered.

Time to browse. My first call is Pop Boutique, which opened in 1994. It has two floors of vintage
clothing, plus a large selection of vintage furniture and kitsch. There is also
the obligatory cafe on the ground floor.

In addition to the sale of vintage, Pop Boutique also has its own label and, more significantly,
its own wholesale business which serves as the parent company and wholesales
over 300,000 kilos of vintage clothing every year. Pop Boutique now has a chain
of six shops in London, Manchester, Liverpool, Leeds and Gottenburg, Sweden.

According to Steve the deputy manager, the sort of people who buy vintage clothes are not
necessarily the same as those who patronize Primark. “It’s much more of a fashion
statement than about saving money. We get all sorts in here – students and
actually all sorts,” says Steve, conspiratorially spilling the beans.

I’m intrigued to know what the difference between vintage and retro is. No one I spoke to – even
Steve – seemed to know. Is it, I asked, simply new vintage…that is, new stuff
manufactured to look old…or is it old stuff that was manufactured to, well…look
old? I think my questioning is causing more confusion than enlightenment so I
decide to do what all good researchers do – resort to Wikipedia: “Retro
is a culturally outdated or aged style, trend, mode, or fashion, from the
overall postmodern past, that has since that time become functionally or superficially
the norm once again…It generally implies a vintage of at least 15 or 20 years.”
Well that clears that up then: retro is actually vintage…retro.

Moving on along Oldham Street, I take a look in Retro Rehab. I like this shop a lot, for
although I’m still a squidge confused about the retro/vintage (If indeed there
is one) the window display is terrific, if a tad voyeuristic. Made up of black
and white lined walls and a chequered floor on which, beside a seated mannequin
in a black dress, sits an old lacquered suitcase bearing the legend: “Style is
Timeless”. Time, indeed, to dig out the double denim then.

Company magazine likes it too, “A small vintage store that feels like you have walked into a
really chic dressing up box, for grown ups.” This pretty much sums it up,
although having never walked into a dressing up box I had to take this on
advisement. However, it raises another question about the reasons for the
popularity of vintage – is it about fancy dress or is it connected to fashion?

I decided to ask the punters. Jane Bibby, a mother of two and a florist from Stockport says,
“It’s actually about what you want it to be about. If dressing up to fit a
theme is your scene then there’s a lot in here that’ll be for you. But if
you’re into vintage and want to follow trends and seasons…or even seasonal trends
you can do that too.” That’s cleared things up.

But looking around Retro Rehab, I suddenly get what it’s about – entering the shop you sneak
inside the girl in the window’s wardrobe. I resist the temptation to seek out
the back wall and crawl between the furs into an icy world of fantasy
wonderment.

And that, I conclude, must be what it’s all about: it’s whatever you want it to be. The gap
between charity and vintage shops is defined by collection as opposed to
selection. Charity shops sell donations whereas vintage shops select what their
research suggests will appeal to their target market.

For those, Goethe once said, who understand, no explanation is necessary. And for those who don’t
understand, no explanation is possible.