Shareen Vintage: Treasures, Transformed

It takes a savvy eye to see the high-fashion potential in floral Laura Ashley dresses, hippie skirts and taffeta prom frocks.

But transforming outmoded pieces into fashion-forward looks is what’s made Shareen Mitchell, owner of under-the-radar vintage store, Shareen Vintage, a trusted source among stylists, celebs and L.A.’s fashion set.

Members of Marc Jacobs' design team stop in for inspiration twice a year, costumers for Mad Men have popped by, celebrity stylist Jessica Paster is a devotee and Katy Perry was one of Mitchell’s original, die-hard clients (the back room is a sea of museum-bound pieces set aside for stylist pulls and editorial shoots).

Now Mitchell is turning her eagle eye to New York, where the retailer recently opened a second outpost on 17th Street. “I’ve always had clients there,” she noted, “so I knew it would work.”

The five-year-old L.A. store, which is housed in an industrial warehouse at the end of a desolate downtown street, is a Mecca of archival apparel—expertly curated and, more often than not, altered and retagged with the label “Shareen Again.”

This isn’t the place to score a goofy Halloween costume. With two on-site seamstresses stationed in the back of the store, the majority of pieces are reworked to fall in with current trends, including 80s power-dressing and metallics. Fur coats get their sleeves cut off, Golden Girls-style bedazzled dresses are pruned into sparkly shrugs and “everything is mini right now,” noted Mitchell. “We’re cutting off the bottom of everything.”

We recently caught up with the statuesque proprietor—who in past lives did stints at Vogue and Elite Models and was a working Hollywood actress—to talk a little shop:

Style Section L.A.: Who has most impacted your taste in fashion?

Shareen Mitchell: My whole background in fashion was my mom, who was part gypsy, part queen of England. Her first cousin was a fashion designer who lived in Paris and designed for Courreges and Pierre Cardin. We used to visit him every year and he gave me really cool clothes.

Then there was [legendary Vogue fashion editor] Polly Mellen. I’m telling you, she was my Devil Wears Prada, but she taught me everything. She made my life a living hell, but now I wish I could find her to send her a thank you note. Those women teach you a lot about professionalism and thoroughness. I didn’t get my period for a year. I used to vomit blood.

How did you get into buying and selling vintage?

Years ago, I was broke and in debt and really scared. My acting career was at a stand still. I was babysitting for five different families to get by. I tore up my credit cards and I told everyone in my life I would do anything for $10 an hour. I cleaned garages, organized people’s closets. I was babysitting 50 hours a week.

One day I was weeping as I drove up the 405. You know when you cry so much you get into a dream-like state? I was in that space of not wanting to go home. I drove to this thrift store my gay friends were always talking about, and I realized that I was suddenly looking at things that could have been Chloe, Marc Jacobs, whatever—you’d just have to belt it or cut it. I called my husband and said, ‘I think I’m gonna buy this stuff.’ I was buying vintage to make fashion.

I heard you made your name at the Fairfax flea market…

I went down to the flea market at Fairfax and they laughed—they said there was a year wait. When I was leaving, I ran into this guy I knew and it turned out he ran the market. I sat in his office crying. Part of humility and success is telling everyone ‘I’m in trouble, I need help.’ He said, ‘I’ll give you a trial in July.’

I bought a chair, a little rug, two racks, two boxes of hangers. By the first month, you couldn’t get into my booth. People were insane. I sold 100 dresses every Sunday. Then I began buying like a maniac. I met this man who had a warehouse. I started to shake all over. I realized if I took that step, I was really giving up the acting. Of course I get an audition five days before the store opens. It was a regular on Crossing Jordan. I passed. I was really ready to do something else.

Who are your most loyal clients?

My first clients were the L.A. fashionista hipster girls. From the beginning they lined up outside in their PJs with a cup of coffee to get in. They’re still some of my best clients.

I’ve never advertised, and I really avoided it in the beginning. I knew that part of the cool of it was that nobody would really know about it.

How are you altering pieces at present?

We’re re-cutting them to be 80s; building sleeves, cutting things micro. Pleated pants—we’re cutting them into shorts and making bloomers. With 90s dresses we’re putting elastic bands in the hems. Like a bubble-dress but less bubble. Most of my 50s dresses have been made mini. I’m not into a girl looking like she’s from 1950. I’m into cutting microminis, adding shoulder pads, making it extreme.

You have a sign in the front of the store that says ‘No Boys Allowed.’ What’s that about?