Fashion with History: Run the jewels

Warning: Do not read this.

Ok, you can.

Wait, don’t.

F*** it.

I know, I know. Language check. Savannah gone. Sailor here.

I wore this vintage Dena of Dallas jeweled clutch to prom. I’d love to tell you I don’t remember prom, because it’s been several years, but I remember every detail.

My prom was hosted at a local aquarium, which was actually pretty stellar, and just about the only thing that was stellar. I wore a God-awful peach-colored, poofy dress; an updo that was all wrong for my bone structure and I went with my high-school boyfriend, the doormat you never knew you needed. To be fair, he was as sweet as pie.

Let’s move on to the important part, this vintage clutch. It actually has a handle, but it broke off recently.

Back when I thought this peach dress was all that and a bag of chips, I bought some silver heels to wear with it. With shoes, though, must come a purse.

I searched high and low, likely at a rundown mall, for a handbag to carry to prom. Back then, I’m sure it would hold flavored lip balm, an Apple iPhone -4 and change for the vending machines.

One weekend, while my stepdad and mom were gone, I took their Jeep Wrangler for a cruise through town. Pre-vinyl-record-collecting and pre-antique-appreciating me decided to go to an antique store.

My parents seemed to think antiquing was all the rage, and I actually liked my parents as a teenager. Still do.

So, while adulting in my parents’ car, I took a note from them. I went antiquing solo.

Although I skipped over creepy dolls and anything clown-related, I spotted a hint of sparkle in a glass case filled with vintage hats, gloves and purses. I asked the store clerk to grab Scooby and the Gang and find out to what or whom this d*** sparkle belonged.

Then, there it was.

The flower pattern on the back of this silver, sequin clutch matched my prom heels perfectly. Although, honestly, I'm not sure why the shoes mattered, because you couldn't see them under layers of peach tulle. I digress.

I only had $15 in my wallet, frankly not so different from the current balance of my bank account. I set the purse back in the case, and the clerk asked how much money I had.

I told her $15, and she sold me the purse for $8. Yeah, yeah. She and my ex-boyfriend would’ve got along just swell.

I wore this clutch to prom, and it’s the only thing I still love about that ensemble. While I have since parted ways with the dress, shoes and boyfriend, I’ll never give up this magical vintage purse.

I’m not sure who once owned it. The tag inside reads “Dena of Dallas, made in Hong Kong.” But, like all my antiques, I like knowing someone once enjoyed them before me.

I collect records, and they collect dust.

Like my preferred media form, I strive to not become obsolete. It’s my worst fear and greatest motivation.

I created Savannah Off the Record as a way to turn my mind inside out.