Antique Chic

Fred Astaire popped into his tailor’s shop with his usual jaunty step. His new sport coat was ready, and as the tailor proudly draped it on Astaire’s svelte physique, the style icon looked in the mirror and expressed his approval. Astaire then quietly removed the jacket, and--to the horror of its creator--rolled it up and threw it against the wall. “Now it’s ready,” he said, putting it back on and sauntering out the door.

One of the nattiest gents of menswear’s golden age, Astaire showed, in this apocryphal anecdote, the attitude that men of style have always had toward new clothes. Ephemeral fashion smacks of the arriviste and the nouveau riche, while aged garments have the noble luster of a polished antique.

Fashion always raids the past for inspiration, but today secondhand or vintage clothing is playing a lead role in the wardrobes of taste-makers. From the old-money look of a gold-buttoned blazer to the distressed leather of the ersatz rock star, the growing role of vintage among the stylish set represents a plaintive search for pedigree in an age when hardly anything is built to last.

“Vintage pieces in one’s wardrobe make dressing more fun, and also more mysterious,” says Cameron Silver, owner of Decades Inc., a retailer of vintage couture on Melrose Avenue. “We live in a world where people know your jeans from the back-pocket details. I love to find things that only I know the origin of.”

A lifelong sucker for “decadent ‘70s playboy stuff,” Silver boasts a personal collection of more than 200 pieces of gently aged European exquisiteness: suits by Francesco Smalto, ostrich coats by Gucci, a box of Pucci ties and 40 Hermes travel bags. “Vintage has completely liberated how I feel about current clothing,” says Silver. “I don’t care what anyone is showing on the runway or what magazines say is popular. I don’t buy trendy, disposable fashion anymore. And when I do buy contemporary clothing, I buy iconic, high-quality items.”

Although “Saturday Night Fever” shirts from J.C. Penney can be had on the cheap at any neighborhood vintage store, high-end men’s vintage is a scarce commodity. For one thing, men tend to wear their high-priced items of clothing until they’re threadbare, then discard them. In the past, few men wore genuine fashion, so only a small number of pieces from top European houses have survived.

Decades acquires much of its stock from retired male models who stockpiled their swag. What doesn’t end up in Silver’s personal closet is sold at surprisingly reasonable prices. Mint condition designer suits can be had for $200 and top out at about $1,500. The appeal is broad: “Rock stars understand vintage,” says Silver, “but so does the guy who shops at Barneys and wears Dries Van Noten and Marc Jacobs.”

For those with only modest sartorial confidence, however, wearing vintage can be hazardous. “If you wear polyester bell-bottoms and a Nik-Nik shirt,” says Silver, “it’s going to look like a Halloween costume.” He recommends starting with “a tie that will attract attention” or a pair of vintage Gucci loafers, “which make you automatically cool.”

David Arquette could be the world’s most unlikely style icon. Long the butt of jokes around town for his individualism, he may have reached a loftier plateau in the evolution of coolness than L.A.’s uniform-obsessed hipsters. His vast wardrobe revolves around vintage, and his collection--only a fraction of which fits in his house--includes thrift-store finds as well as spoils of a more distinguished provenance. He owns a stage performance suit made for Johnny Cash, and a 1930s Abercrombie & Fitch hunting suit he says he’ll wear “when I go camping.”

“I embrace the fact that I don’t know any fashion rules,” says Arquette. “I like going out and dressing ridiculous just to have a better night.” Vintage clothing allows him to conjure up his favorite pop-culture eras, such as the Peacock Revolution of the ‘60s (Jimi Hendrix is one of his heroes) and, at the opposite extreme, the sleek, modern look of the Rat Pack.

Since the dawn of the new millennium, the fashion industry has pillaged the past more flagrantly than usual. If philosopher Oswald Spengler is right, every art form eventually exhausts itself and either dies a natural death or repeats itself ad nauseam. Tom Ford’s swan-song collection for Gucci, despite raising sexiness to the level of genius, was haunted by the phantom of a jet-setting Lothario from the ‘70s.

“There’s certainly an element of nostalgia to vintage clothing,” says Kelly Cole, co-founder of the Los Angeles retail store Lo-Fi. “It reminds people of their youth or what they perceive as a better time. And besides, how are you going to refine draping the human form much further?”

Jeans and T-shirts are L.A.’s uniform, and hipsters will pay a premium for the right pieces. At Lo-Fi, vintage Levi’s carry a $400 price tag, while a rare 1972 David Bowie promo T-shirt sets you back $1,000--the store has sold three of them to eager buyers, Cole says.

That old concert shirts are now considered vintage shows the breadth of the classification. Vintage can cover everything from 19th century historical artifacts to any previously worn article of clothing made before 1990. The term also can include dead stock, or unworn clothing locked in a warehouse until discovered by some fashion archeologist.

Some vintage items evolve from kitsch to collectible without any intermediary stage. Vintage Hawaiian shirts are increasingly sought after, says Tommy Steele, a graphic designer based in Pacific Palisades and author of “The Hawaiian Shirt: Its Art and History.”

Steele boasts a collection of more than 200 vintage aloha shirts found at places such as Animal House in Venice and Aardvark’s on Melrose Avenue.

Prized for their fabric, design, label and condition, vintage Hawaiian shirts can start in the hundreds and go into the thousands of dollars. “People are wearing them less and displaying them more,” says Steele. “They’ve become like vintage quilts.”

The big kahuna of aloha shirts is the Duke Kahanamoku Champion brand, seen in the film “From Here to Eternity.” One of fashion’s limitless ironies is that the shirts were actually made on the mainland and shipped to Hawaii for tourist consumption.

For many, vintage clothing offers an element of authenticity that can’t be found in chain stores. Authenticity is a word at the forefront of Mark Werts’ vocabulary. He is the founder of American Rag on La Brea, which began 21 years ago by specializing in vintage clothing.

“Authentic goods tend to be stylish but not trendy,” says Werts. “We don’t sell items you wear one time; I don’t think that’s an intelligent way to dress.”

Calling his personal style “classa-dylic,” Werts prefers to mix contemporary designer wear with a vintage Lacoste polo, $325 premium jeans, new custom Vans and a vintage corduroy blazer.

Today, American Rag has pared its vintage merchandise to 20% of its inventory, but the company markets it shrewdly. Vintage examples of current fashion trends--say, Lacoste polo shirts or seersucker jackets--are presented as affordable alternatives to pricey new versions, with the added bonus of being genuine.

Trying to find one’s identity through fashion may be a dubious enterprise, but going vintage might just be the way to clothe our uniqueness with an originality it deserves.

For a perfect example, look no farther than Arquette.

“David has a brilliantly odd aesthetic,” says Lo-Fi’s Cole. “He tenaciously maintains his individuality, which is fabulous. It’s a really good example to set for young guys: It doesn’t matter what magazines or the mall says to do--just do what you want to do.”

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Here’s what’s hot at some of L.A.’s top vintage retailers.

Resurrection: Specializes in vintage designers. Resurrection’s most coveted items are ‘70s pieces by Yves Saint Laurent. 8006 Melrose Ave., West Hollywood

Denim Doctors: Faded Levi’s from the ‘60s and ‘70s are the store’s forte. Rock T-shirts are also plentiful. 8044 W. 3rd St., Los Angeles

Wasteland: The latest trends at this lower Melrose staple include track jackets, Levi’s jeans, rock T-shirts and Nike and Puma sneakers. 7428 Melrose Ave., Los Angeles

Squaresville: Eastsiders are opting for ‘70s Western shirts with embroidery detail, and T-shirts with any sort of retro graphic. Vintage sneakers sell immediately. 1800 N. Vermont Ave., Los Angeles

Jet Rag: Blazers, Lacoste polo shirts and ‘80s T-shirts on the cheap. 825 N. La Brea Ave., Los Angeles