Hey YOU, Gene!

The first and often most essential testament to the widespread style of any city rests heavily upon an investigation of its most cherished sites of fashion finds - namely, its vintage, thrift and consignment stores, most notably those found in unassuming, independent shops downtown. This rule goes triply for the average college city. Housing approximately 16,674 students at the University of Oregon, one could say Eugene presents itself as a prime exemplary candidate.

A mid-sized urban area known for its vegan eateries, lush temperate biome and residents whose lifestyles are as green as the city's ubiquitous conifers, the denizens of Eugene pride themselves on their sustainable lifestyles and the fact that many of them never quite grew out of the 1960s - or spend restless nights wishing they could have had the chance. The LTD, Eugene's local public bus system, is timely, clean and well-organized - need I say more?

It's no wonder that Eugene is host to one of the most extensive, laudable and lovely collections of "mid-century artifacts" I've seen in my life, particularly those precious gems found at Oak St. Vintage, a mid-century dwelling itself renovated for such admirable business purposes. Though the square footage is minimal, the old abode is brimming with all the polyester, Bake-Lite and burnt orange to fill the beating hearts of any septophile such as myself. All very reasonably priced, some highlights include a double-layer jewelry case so full of baubles the floor can't be seen to a "back room" of reminiscent LPs and aqua-colored tea sets to an assortment of nostalgic board games and bulbous lamps that could have been swiped right off the futuristic set of Rollerball (not the remake, please.)

Though this charming teleportation on 1409 Oak St. took the cake by far, an honorable mention goes to Kitsch, consignment for the funky and posh alike, located at 1016 Willamette. The eclectic and relatively contemporary assortment of music as well as the clothes it offers lends a somewhat trendier vibe to Kitsch, and while the front desk clerk at Oak St. demurely read a book in her cream knit sweater, cowboy boots and pincurls, this one seemed to be either preparing for, just getting back from, or hosting his own rave behind the desk, and in fact may have indulged in all the E he intended for his party guests. However, when a feeble rack carrying far too much mohair cracked under pressure, toppling sweater upon pastel sweater to the floor, he enthusiastically clapped his hands and went to work re-stocking.

Style-wise, the store offers a range of authentic '70s chemises to some threads that are just too young to have made it back to hip-dom (we're all still waiting on that late-nineties butterfly clip revival, aren't we?) but the effort is sincere, and the presentation is admirable.

All in all, a successful and enlightening (though temporally disorienting) day awaits the shopper in these two humble downtown locations - but if that still isn't enough to warrant a voyage, talk to the free Baklava (courtesy of Oak St. Vintage).

Pro-logg

You got yourself a trucker's atlas

You knew you were all hot, well

Maybe you'll go and blow a gasket

- "Trucker's Atlas," Modest Mouse

I was born and raised in the Matanuska-Susitna Valley in America's "Last Frontier," the breathtakingly beautiful state of Alaska.

18 years later, in that same serendipitous month that I had transplanted myself to a quaint private liberal arts college tucked away in the mid-Hudson area of upstate New York, my lovely Alaskan valley and its city of Wasilla burst onto the international stage wielding patriotic red pencil suits, rimless glasses, AK-47s and - you betcha - pitbulls with lipstick (no, not bulldogs...)

Don't get me wrong - I love my home. The sun shining down on midnight swims at Kepler-Bradley, mud-adorned black Ford F-350s with decals of our statewide 907 area code emblazoned for all to see, and peanut butter milkshakes at the Valley Hotel? There's nothing better.

But this blog isn't about mesh half-shirt-toting, mullet-baring mud-yuckers, so this blog can't as well be about Wasilla.

This blog is about the life and beauty and spirit of the brave souls who wake up every morning and, upon a hard heavy investigation of the world their closet has to offer and prepare their bodies like a canvas for all the crawling, hailing, lower-than-thou denizens of their unspoken fashion kingdom to see, gawk at, and admire.

You know who you are.

We will begin with a several-week-long tour of the United States' west coast cities.

First stop: Eugene, Oregon.