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Wearing Stories, One Vintage Find at a Time

Every city has its sartorial code.

DC wears its power suits like armor—streamlined, structured, and predictably pressed. New York clings to its black-on-black swagger like a second skin. L.A. gives you fashion as fantasy, soft-focused and sun-kissed. But Richmond? Richmond dresses like it’s making art.

It’s not so much about trends here as it is about personality. A little grungy. Definitely indie. A splash of punk, a dash of retro, and always—always—creative. It’s a look you come into the longer you live here, like a souvenir you collect over time. The mullets may never grow on me, but muscle tees, ripped denim, and the occasional pair of Doc Martens? I get it now.

There’s a reason thrift stores are as plentiful as breweries in this town. Richmonders don’t just shop vintage to save money—we hunt for expression. For mood. For texture. Dressing here is about stitching your personality together from secondhand silk and soft-worn tees, and wearing it like a manifesto.

I do my rounds at the usual haunts—Goodwill on West Broad, the Buffalo Exchange in Carytown, the tucked-away secondhand gems in the Fan. But lately, my favorite stop has been Encore Vintage in Scott’s Addition, just steps from the old-school charm of Moore Street Café. Mike, the owner, curates with a keen eye—like a gallery, but for clothes, kicks and vinyl records that already have a past and are ready for their next story.

This past weekend, I took my thrift-loving self on the road to DC, where the fashion pulse beats differently. Union Market has transformed from an industrial outpost into a curated lifestyle destination—food halls, sleek cafes, and yes, a dreamy vintage shop called Vintage Vintage Vintage. Inside: a swirl of denim, dresses, disco-era tops, and statement jackets that screamed “take me home.” I did just that. A not-so-Richmond price tag, but as every vintage lover knows—if you find it, you buy it. One-of-a-kind is the rule, not the exception.

I came back to Richmond lighter in wallet but lifted in spirit, and stepped out the next morning in my new indigo-wash bomber jacket, an old corduroy skirt, and a sense of joy that only comes from a successful thrift. Brunch at Moore Street felt celebratory. And wouldn’t you know it—while waiting for my table, I wandered into Encore (again!) and scored a chocolate silk dress and a crisp green cotton shirt. My card practically leapt out of my wallet. Mike just smiled. He gets it.

Vintage shopping isn’t just about clothes. It’s about looking at the city—your city—as a place of endless potential, where something discarded can be reimagined. It’s about creativity, community, and surprise. The thrill of discovery, the joy of good design, and the quiet pride of wearing something with soul.

That, to me, is the art of the city. And the art of living in it.

In my green button up shirt from Encore Vintage RVA