Jude, on the other hand, hated me wearing anything second-hand. He turned his nose up at the thought ofwearing the same outfit twice, never mind rummaging for a gem in a vintage shop, and he’d have freaked out if he’d ever known how I used to spend hours in my favourite little streets in Dublin, piecing outfits together from next to nothing, and saving a fortune into the bargain. It was my secret hobby. It was a true passion. It was the real me that I was never allowed to show.
‘Thanks, Aidan,’ I say to him, trying to remain business-like and not let my emotions show. ‘This is Camille by the way. She’s the owner and brains behind Truly Vintage. Camille, this is Aidan Murphy, Mabel’s nephew. He’s – he’s been sorting out Mabel’s things.’
‘Nice to meet you properly, Aidan,’ says Camille, shaking his hand, all bangles and rattling jewellery as she does so. ‘I hope the jacket did the trick yesterday?’
‘It did, yes, thanks. I was lucky you open a while on Sundays,’ he says, changing the subject immediately by indicating the two huge bags in each of his hands. ‘So, these bags were carefully labelled by the lady herself to come here if you don’t mind? Just let me know where to put them and I’ll leave you both to get on with your day.’
‘No, no!’ says Camille, taking a last sip of her coffee and clearing away her coffee cup. ‘You don’t have to race away. I know this is hugely emotional for you, so please don’t feel you have to rush off.’
‘It’s fine,’ we both say in unison.
‘Honestly, it really is fine,’ adds Aidan, for good measure.
‘But it’s such a personal thing to do,’ insists Camille, looking from me to Aidan and back to me again. ‘Believe me, I cried my heart out when I finally cleared out my parents’ home after my dear papa died. It can feel like the end of the world, so Roisin, why don’t you take Aidan upstairs and go through what you think we can make use of, and I’ll man the fort down here? Take your time. Take all the time in the world, and I promise not to disturb you till you’re done, unless you need coffee.’
I shoot her a look to say I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t want to force Aidan down a path he is uncomfortable with.
‘I suppose it shouldn’t take very long, should it?’ he asks me, taking me very much by surprise. ‘She did say there’s a keepsake somewhere in here for both of us, so I guess I should probably find that before I go.’
‘OK then, let’s get it over with,’ I say to him, delighted that he’s finally taking Mabel’s instructions seriously.
We go through the poster-clad door that stands behind the main shop counter and climb the narrow wooden stairs, heaving the bags as we go up to the room where all the excitement in my humble job happens. I normally get such a rush when a new batch of stock arrives, but this is different of course. These are bags full of memories from someone who I loved deeply, and it’s going to be a killer to live and breathe her belongings once more.
Mabel loved clothes.
She had some pretty wacky items, some very random purchases that she bought for shock value as a ‘woman of a certain age’, like slogan T-shirts and bright colours that were normally reserved for the young. But she also had a very fine collection of coats, scarves, shoes, boots and dresses that defied time, mostly purchased during her time in New York or when she and Peter would go back there to visit friends.
I lead Aidan into the room upstairs and await his reaction with a smile.
It’s a huge attic space, with wooden beams running along above our heads, white walls that display framed art deco posters collected from Camille’s travels, huge vintage leather trunks that hold costume jewellery from all around the world, hat stands that display colourful pieces in an array of different materials, and rails of clothing, all separated and filed by size, era, colour, style, you name it.
Camille and I spent months developing our systems, which means that every item of clothing lucky enough to wait for a place on the Truly Vintage shop floor is easily found, recorded, and ready for action.
‘Nice room,’ says Aidan, standing right in the line of a stream of sunshine that beams through the small circular window as he takes it all in. ‘You know, I used to walk past this building on my way to school every day when I lived here, and I never once stopped to admire its architecture.’
I can’t help but glow from the inside at the look on his face.
‘I love it up here,’ I tell him, watching his jaw drop in wonder at the treasure trove of colour, clothing, and reams of stories in front of him.
He runs his hand across the rails, taking it all in, then lifts out a brown suede jacket, holds it under his chin and looks into the free-standing gold-framed mirror that stands under the window. He puts it carefully back, reaches for a hat from a stand and positions it on his head, adjusting it in the mirror as he speaks.
‘Homburg, 1940s?’
I take a step back.
‘Spot on,’ I tell him in bewilderment.
‘My father had one almost like this,’ he says to me, putting the hat back in its place with all the tenderness and respect it deserves. ‘My parents had a cabaret act back in the day, and they wore all sorts of clothes from every generation. I’d almost forgotten about the clothes they used to wear, but seeing some of this stuff up here is taking me back in time.’
For a man who could, it seems, buy anything in the world he wanted with a price tag that would make your eyes water, his genuine interest in what we do here with second-hand goods makes his interest all the more impressive.
‘There’s quite a view too,’ he says, going to the circular window and looking outside. ‘Look, you can still see the tracks from our sledging yesterday up on the hill by the woods.’
I join him, having to stand very close to see out through the small window, stretching up on my tiptoes to see properly.He points up to the hill where the snow still sits just as it did yesterday. I feel his hand rest on my shoulder and he pulls me in for a closer look.
‘Yes, I see it now,’ I tell him.
It’s like every moment he spends here in Ballybray brings him back to his glory days where carefree times were spent with his parents and grandparents before he lost them all.
