Hidden local treasure: Plano’s Dallas Vintage Shop

by Mike Orren

PLANO — After fifteen years living in Dallas, most of those working for one local publication or another dedicated to showing people the best local stuff, I tend to think I've seen it all. That's why I was so gobsmacked last week when I walked into Dallas Vintage Shop.

I needed a "Hugh Hefner-esque Smoking Jacket" for a dress-up party, but I didn't have a lot of time to search around. I posted a query on Twitter / Facebook and quickly got a recommendation of Dallas Vintage Shop from PegNews user Travis Bush.

After just looking at their website, I wasn't sure. It seemed there were a lot of different costume types, with lots of disparate items, none of which were guaranteed to be in stock -- and certainly many more than I thought could possibly be in one store.

So I took what was for me a desperate step in this digital age and picked up the analog telephone to call and inquire, especially since I needed a, ahem, more healthy size. The quick response was that they had three: One cheap repro and a couple more expensive vintage.

I went to the store, just North of Plano's quaint downtown shopping and dining district, on my lunch hour Friday. What I found turned it into a nearly three-hour excursion.

In a couple thousand square feet (at most), I found packed more vintage and costume merchandise than I'd seen in any three other shops in the area. Tightly-packed rack to tightly-packed rack, floor to ceiling. I wandered dumbly about for a few moments before I was met by store owner Jerry Purvis.

That's one of the great things about this store: It is so comprehensive, so packed, that you could never find a specific item without the help of Jerry or one of his five employees. But his knowledge of the place is so encyclopedic that he never hesitates a moment no matter how obscure the item you throw at him: 50's ankle socks? Over here. Cat's eye glasses: Other side, two boxes, shaded and clear.

I really can't communicate the scale of the store in words. The photo gallery above does some justice, but you really have to see it to take it all in, or to realize that you can't take it all in.

There is a 40 foot rack with nothing but disco dresses.

Jerry is clearly proud of the store, which he started as a simple nonprofit thrift store in 2000. As he grew his merchandise stock and found that people paid more for costume and elegant vintage, his accountant suggested it would work better as a for-profit business. "Our best customers were yuppies going to theme parties," he says. "We learned they wanted stuff that was unique, that didn't look like it was packaged together in a box."

With that realization, Jerry began amassing a stock of merchandise that would make most merchants put on a fire sale. "But the fuller it gets, the further away they come from," he explains. "At Halloween, the goal of every store is to run out of everything by October 31. We don't go that way-- we want to have everything"

"We try to keep several cheap reproductions and a couple real vintage versions of everything. We aren't prejudiced against rich people. And we're the only store that focuses on plus sizes." I'll agree with the plus-size point. It's usually impossible to find big-boy vintage. Online reviews are divided on the store's prices, but I found everything I was looking for to be reasonable.

While Jerry claims customers from New Orleans, New York, Dubai and England, he is frustrated that more people locally don't know about the store. "They don't come from Highland Park," he grouses, suggesting that maybe an article in Texas Monthly is the answer. He does say that many of the other, more specialized vintage and costume shops in town buy from him.

In turn, he buys from all over the world, and says he shops at some of the same Oak Cliff specialty stores where "you'll see TD Jakes and Deion Sanders."

It's sure that the store doesn't have the recognition I'd expect locally. We have staffers who live nearby and didn't know about it, and as I've spoken of it this week, I've yet to run across someone who already knew the whole story.

While I was in the store, a woman found a mod pantsuit for a party, while a musician came in to sell back a costume he used for a gig. Dallas Vintage doesn't take returns or do rentals, but does buy back some merchandise. And it still gets occasional donations, while Jerry finds himself custom-making some hard-to-get items.

There's some turmoil ahead: The City of Plano owns the strip center where Dallas Vintage is located and plans to redevelop it with higher-end commercial and retail to tie to the downtown area. The store has to be out by January 1, which means that it will likely have to move during the prime holiday season.

"Look around," says Jerry. "This is not something you can move in a weekend." He's not kidding. I can't conceive moving a quarter of this inventory over a six month period and suggest that he could open another location and move piecemeal.

"We might do that. It's hard to say. We're trying to stay in Plano, but we haven't found where yet."

I leave after buying far more than I came for, including a second ring-up after my wife has peppered us via phone with a series hard to find items, failing to stump Jerry once. Looking back at the website's list of more than a hundred very specific costume types -- distinguishing between Greek and Roman; Baroque and Medieval; Dickens on and off the Strand -- it's now clear to me that it is all in stock. Always. I definitely class this as a local treasure that you won't see in the Chamber of Commerce brochure -- a unique store, the likes of which I'd be hard pressed to expect in New York or LA. It's convinced me that there's still got to be a lot I haven't seen around these parts.

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