I can't think "treasure trove" and not think of that horrifying White House Correspondents' Dinner Karl Rove rap from 2007. And then "Karl", which becomes "Carl", which becomes "Carl and Lenny", which then becomes "Lenny & Me". I am going somewhere with this, I swear.
Lenny & Me really is a treasure trove. I haven't gotten around to photographing my amazing finds from my recent stop-in, but Lindsey, the shop manager, was sweet and let me poke around with my camera and take these poorly-composed shots of her amazing picks. Her displays are far more aesthetically pleasing than my photos suggest, but the best thing of all? The thing that makes me swoon? Is the amazing inventory.
Seriously, everyone: come to Chicago and go vintage shopping with me here. There are a bunch of great vintage stores up and down Milwaukee Avenue (Store B is another favorite, and oooh, they have a wondrous collection of v ladylike gloves), but I think Lenny & Me is the fairest of them all.
I mean, look at this stuff. For real.
The jewelry cabinet not only seduced me with the pretty glittery things, but also with the collection of gold belts. Why do I not have a gold belt? I need to remedy this. Except with a belt that actually fits my waist, and not one sized for a tiny little lady.
These dresses are pretty much made for Trixie From Toronto of Buttercup Punch.
These shots are crap, but it shows you a tiny slice of the racks of dresses. Lindsey arranges them by decade, and thank god I showed some surprising restraint in pawing through these, or I'd have gone into a purchasing blackout and overloaded my bag with cocktail dresses.
Is it just me, or is the sound of hangers being flicked on racks of clothing a really pleasant and soothing sound?
Oh my god, you guys. There's a suitcase of furs. And then there's the most fabulously absurd fur ever with tiny little fox dolls attached- it's so unapologetically "fur is murder, and it's fabulous, darling!".
I know it's almost October, but I want this swimsuit. Ruching!
AND THEN THE SHOES. This place is shoe nirvana, especially for someone with super-narrow feet and high arches. Vintage shoes tend to run really narrow, which is a godsend for me. They fit like a dream. (Yes, I did buy shoes here this week. But only one pair! And they're mint-condition suede heels from the 50's with the most adorable little tie on the front. Photos forthcoming.)
Those black croc pumps on the top left in the first shoe-display photo are vintage Yves St. Laurent. Good eye. You should buy them.
Are those leopard-print satin heels not crying out for Skinny Bone Jones, guys? Yes, yes they are. They say "give me a good home, please, Skinny!"
They also run a lovely vintage housewares/décor/etc. store farther up Milwaukee Avenue, and I am trying to justify my idea of (re)furnishing my apartment once I move (yes, again) next week. Do I need a honey-blonde side table for my new living room? Well, that depends entirely on one's definition of "need", now doesn't it?