The New Vintage: 8 Philly-Area Stores That Are Changing the Way We Shop

It starts with you laughing at your sneakerhead friend who tells you about a completely destroyed pair of Jordans from the ’80s selling for $20,000. You reject the idea. No way. Soon you see a pair of Levi’s on the shelf with deep grass stains on the knees, and you wonder why they’re double the price of a brand-new pair from the mall.

You pick up a Backstreet Boys concert tee (probably originally scalped in a parking lot) at a shop in South Philly, see the $200 price tag tied to the hanger, and kick yourself for giving yours away. Or maybe your daughter has started combing through your closet, and she’s not laughing at all the wide shoulder pads. She prefers them big and square and pointy.

And then you start seeing big, square, pointy shoulder pads on the streets, in trendy restaurants, at the office. Scalped teenybop concert tees are everywhere now, with their crusty graphics and bungled designs. You see Giorgio Armani jackets — plucked, by all appearances, off a young Richard Gere’s back — reappear in red-carpet photos. You’re inspired. You become insufferable. You start correcting people: “It’s actually Izod Lacoste from the ’80s.”

Now you have opinions on the paint splatter on these old Dickies — you like it more than the paint splatter on those old Dickies. And the ’90s-era Levi’s 505s you tried on feel comfier, sturdier. Like they won’t rip at the crotch in three months.

That’s the thing about vintage: You don’t get it at first, and then, suddenly, you do. And even if you don’t right away, you will. Everyone does. Such is the journey for anyone entering this unfamiliar world of fashion. It’s vast and beautiful and full of secrets, contradictions, joy, and wonder. Continue reading...

Vintage isn’t new to us, true. For decades, Philadelphia has had a dedicated group of shops and self-proclaimed dandies keeping our city on the national pulse. Places like Cultured Couture, Erik Honesty’s 14-year-old boutique so full of classic Americana it basically doubles as a fashion museum for American exceptionalism. Like Amanda Saslow and David Lochner’s Briar Vintage, launched in 2011, where people from across the country travel in pursuit of near-perfect-condition mid-century tailoring and deadstock American workwear. Not to mention the shops and pop-ups scattered throughout the Philly area, offering collections born from estate sales and flea markets. They all played a part in creating what’s been a pretty thriving vintage scene.

Old City vintage shop Stickball

But lately, Philly is starting to feel different. Look different. Philadelphians are, casually, starting to dress … better, which feels kind of new for us. We’re not exactly a “fashion city” — not like New York or London or Tokyo. So who are these people walking among us, embracing — peacocking — their deeply personal style? They’re wearing thrashed NASCAR tees and England-made Doc Martens. Is that vintage Girbaud? On Frankford Ave.?

Say hello to the vintage scenesters of Philadelphia. Get to know them, learn their language, because soon, “they” will be “us.” They shop vintage, fine, but now it’s less about quirk, novelty, and authenticity and more about finessing current fashion trends with timeless pieces. In short, it’s less costume, more fit. They go to shops that don’t smell like mothballs, where there’s breathing room between hangers. (Though we’ll always have a place in our hearts for those stores.) Focused spots, minimal, curated just so to convey the shop owner’s particular point of view. They’re not only for era-nerds — they’re also for your 26-year-old niece, who’s glued to her Depop app, who can’t stop watching thrift-haul videos online. They’re for all those people in line at the city’s newest viral vintage shop because they simply believe in a greener future, free of fast fashion and wasteful consumerism.

“There were many people who used to be nervous about wearing old clothes, used clothes,” says Keesean Moore, owner of what could be considered Philly’s highest-end vintage shop, Moore Vintage Archive. “But it’s shifted. It’s no longer questionable — it’s desirable. It’s garnered respect, which has helped stores like mine flourish. It’s in the zeitgeist.”

Your first instinct might be to brush all this off as a phase, a trend as fleeting as the last. But fashion, as silly and trivial as it can be, tends to make big, esoteric concepts like “place” and “time” a little more tangible. This “new preoccupation with the old,” as GQ recently put it, is simply a sign of the times — an amalgamation of the proliferation of digital marketplaces, online virality, an enthusiasm for sustainability, a thirst for distinction, and an insatiable craving, furiously fueled by social media, to stand out among the many.

Sooner or later, your social media algorithm will get to know your interests. And you’ll see that one viral clip of some guy at a vintage convention holding up a tattered piece of cloth that, at some point, might have been considered an item of clothing. It looks like it’s been run over by a garbage truck. The seller describes it as a 1940s “hoodless afterhood” (an early type of hoodie construction in which the hood was sewn on after the body of the crewneck was finished). He throws around words like “rust stained,” “patina,” and “tasty distressing.” The item is priced at $2,500. And you want it.

Then you scroll to the next video. Another man is being interviewed at a different convention. He’s asked what his most unpopular vintage take is, and his response is: “You have to buy used drawers in the thrift store, I promise y’all. My used underwear game is slept on. The prints are egregious. … It’s not what’s on the outside, it’s what’s on the inside that counts.”

And, so, it seems like your vintage journey has only just started. Or perhaps this is all completely new — and somewhat baffling — to you. But maybe, hopefully, the connoisseurs you read about on these pages will set you on the right path to find your own grail — even if it’s a pair of Jordans from the ’80s that are completely and utterly destroyed. — Alex Tewfik

8 Vintage Stores Transforming Philly’s Shopping Scene

Odd Folk

The Classicists

Checking in with co-owners Sean Magee and Rachael Smith:
Q: How did you channel your restaurant-industry past into your new vintage-retail present?
Sean: Our approach to retail is wildly hospitable. We’re trying to make everybody feel as comfortable as they possibly can. Rachael: Here in Collingswood, there are a lot of families, so I wanted a children’s space in the store. Because toddlers are always having meltdowns when they’re hungry, I tried to figure out what could possibly elongate shoppers’ time with us.

Q: And when people come here, what will they browse and buy?
Sean: We source clothing through the timeless lens of menswear. We view it as a unisex look, because something that’s made incredibly well and that’s not trend-focused will look good on everyone. We source American heritage brands, Western wear, [pieces with] classic tailoring. Rachael: A lot of women come into our shop and think we don’t have women’s clothes. But it’s all “women’s” clothing: An oxford is an oxford. We’re trying to convince people of that.
579 Haddon Avenue, Collingswood.

Moore Vintage Archive

The High Bar

In the grand scheme of Philly vintage, Keesean Moore’s three-year-old Queen Village shop is as luxe as it gets. Hobbyists travel from the ends of the earth to step into Moore’s curated anthology — so deeply rooted in fashion history, so pristine in condition, so unapologetically priced to its inherent value. The garments in his shop are undeniably rare, beautiful, bold. An Hermès lambskin trench designed by Martin Margiela will run you $9,500; very few were ever made. A white denim Chanel jacket from the ’80s that sags low off the shoulders goes for about $3,500, and it sure looks like it should. The shop is scented with temptation, and what Moore collects is wearable anywhere, yes. But to be honest, these pieces are at their best swaggered around town — be it in the 8th arrondissement in Paris, Takeshita Street in Tokyo, or Rittenhouse Square right at home.
725 South 4th Street, Queen Village.

Ace Outpost

Good Brews

At this five-month-old vintage-boutique-meets-coffee-shop, everything is for sale, from the studded leather biker vest beckoning from a rack to the fiberglass Herman Miller chair you sit on while sipping your java. (Ace roasts its own beans, by the way, thanks to co-owner Brian Lentini.) “People from the past who had that cool furniture collection almost always had cool clothes as well,” says co-owner Julian van der Steur, who credits the store’s curation to the mix of folks who work here — people with passions for, yes, coffee and vintage, but also surfing and skating. They don’t follow the trends; instead, they seek out pieces that speak to them. “Thankfully, the general Philly population seems to enjoy the same interests as the Ace staff,” he says. So that rare 1950s Soviet-era chore coat you spotted here might not be just your grail, but van der Steur’s too.
747-749 South 4th Street, Queen Village.

Wayward Collection

Dream Weaver

Checking in with owner Haley Pelton:
Q: How did you enter the vintage world?
My parents deal in museum-level antique toys, art, and decoratives, and they were friends with a lot of vintage clothing dealers. I was also lucky to have an amazing arts education in my public school and into higher ed. Coming from that background, I have wide-ranging tastes, from the extremely chic to truly campy, but I do think that is my greatest asset as a curator — bringing together seemingly disparate pieces and showing how they can “hang.”

Q: Your store has been open for three years, but you started sourcing long before that. What do you look for?
I recently received one of the best compliments that I could imagine about the shop, which was that it’s curated for “a girl who reads novels.” I try to straddle the line between boutique retailer and old-school vintage dealer. I’m well-versed in the designer fashion world, but I’m always in the mix to score unusual 1930s knits or ’40s Hawaiian shirts or ’70s British boutique stuff because that is where my heart lies.
707 South 4th Street, Queen Village.

Forbidden Closet

Room Raiders

You kinda never really go to Forbidden Closet, even if that’s exactly where you’re going. You sorta … stumble upon it, into it, even. It appeared almost a year ago, practically out of nowhere, on an unlikely street corner in a very residential part of South Philly, in what was once, surely, somebody’s home. Walk inside, and it’s sunlit and airy, and the racks are stuffed with all kinds of gems sourced by co-owners Nick DeMarco and Chris Shelley: Eagles crewnecks, swishy windbreakers, thick Woolrich sweaters patterned with mallard ducks. They feel worn and used, but the collection is high-quality — as if a professional stylist had gone through your parents’ closet and picked out only the good stuff.
1515 McKean Street, Point Breeze.

DRK MTTR

The Little Black Dress

Checking in with owner Courtney McGee:
Q: Can you share DRK MTTR’s point of view?
Everything in the shop is black, except for on the once-a-year Color Day sale, held on Black Friday. I look for high-quality pieces with strong craftsmanship and unique touches. The beauty of black is that it is universal. Pricing, sizing, and options ensure accessibility. I strive to create a particular vibe as well: clean and organized, minimal, almost like an art gallery, but welcoming, and inspired by avant-garde and couture fashion, visual arts, and music.

Q: You’ve been in business for a year. Have you faced any challenges?
DRK MTTR does not do a lot of advertising or online sales, so business depends on foot traffic and word of mouth. The Philly area features a broad and diverse population, and surrounding towns are a train ride away. I suppose the biggest challenge is the weather.
128 East Gay Street, West Chester.

Drats

Vintage for the People

Checking in with owner Jason Carroll:
Q: What can we find at Drats?
It just came to me the other day — I actually think Drats is like “entry-level vintage” right now. I don’t consider us a true vintage shop. I tend to focus on ’90s garments as our thing, which, funny enough, are technically vintage. The ’90s is the last great era of mass-produced, well-made clothes before corporate fast fashion completely went off the rails.

Q: And the in-store experience?
Drats is a place where you can be curious, ask questions, and try things on. It’s a really fun shop with zero gross corporate contrived vibes. There’s always a good energy here, whether it’s one person or 15 in the store. Drats is a genuine space for cultural exchange. Now, eight months in, people are starting to realize that we’re low-key operating as a unique “third space” in the neighborhood, which Kensington really needed, in my opinion. You can come here for a photo show that borders on full-on party or catch live indie bands. We’re just getting started with it.
2214 North Front Street, Kensington.

Stickball

Devil in the Details

Stickball opened very quietly in a small Old City space in 2022. Less than two years later, GQ called it one of the best vintage menswear stores in America, the word Stickball was popping up in conversations throughout Philly, and owner Tim Jacobsen simply needed more room — more room to celebrate patina in all its many aspects. Every item in his shop has a one-of-a-kind quirk, a character about it that caught his eye. Like the exact placement of a rip on the wrist of an Old Navy button-down from the late ’90s. (You can check your watch without pulling up your sleeve.) Or how the pages in an art book are dog-eared in all the right places. Or the slight sheen to the green paint speckled on an otherwise snow-white pair of carpenter pants. “I don’t focus too much on rarity, labels, designers, or trends, which gives me the freedom to buy pieces that feel unique and interesting rather than just chasing what’s considered collectible,” he says. “It could be the wear on the back pocket of a pair of jeans. The contrast stitching on a dress. Patches and darning done by hand.” Age before beauty? Age is beauty.
124 North 3rd Street, Old City.

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Talking Shop: The Vintage Glossary

Distressed: adjective. Also, thrashed or destroyed. Often describing tees in what, to the untrained eye, might appear worthless condition that are actually highly valued.

Made in USA: adjective. Describing garments from the decades before most clothing manufacturing was done overseas — largely the 1980s or earlier.

Single-stitch: noun. A sewing method used between the 1970s and ’90s that features one line of stitching and is known for its durability. It can be found on t-shirts (arm hems).

Grail: noun. This is the rare item you’ve probably long sought. One example, from DRK MTTR owner Courtney McGee: anything by designer Rei Kawakubo (Comme des Garçons) from the 1980s.

Orange Tab Levi’s: noun. A true gem dating back to the 1960s, when the brand added tabs of different hues to its more cutting-edge designs.

 

Published as “Now This Is Vintage” in the April 2025 issue of Philadelphia magazine.